The Pillars of Creation (32 page)

Jennsen tilted her head toward him in admonition. “Were it not for the knife I carry, soldiers would have easily murdered me along with my mother.”

“Evil soldiers. Our soldiers fight only for good, for the defense and security of the people, not to enslave them. When we defeat the D’Haran forces, then there will be peace.”

“But even then—”

He leaned toward her. “Don’t you see? Eventually, with magic eliminated, weapons will no longer be needed. It’s the corrupt passions of people which are made lethal because they have access to weapons that result in crimes and murders.”

“Soldiers have passions.”

He dismissed the thought with a wave of a hand. “Not if they’re trained properly and are under supervision of good officers.”

Jennsen gazed off at the sparkling dome of stars. The world he envisioned certainly sounded inviting. But if what he claimed were true, then magic, as they used it, was being used for a good end, so that would mean it could be neither good nor bad, but that, much like her knife, the intent of the person wielding magic actually carried the moral condition, not the magic itself. Rather than say so, she asked another question.

“What would a world without magic be like?”

Sebastian smiled wistfully. “Everyone would be equal. No one would have an unfair advantage.” He stabbed another piece of meat and pulled it off the stick on the point of his knife. “Everyone would work together, then, because we would all be the same. No one would have the unfair use of magic and be able to take advantage of others. You, for example, would be free to live your life without Lord Rahl hunting you with his magic.”

Althea said that Richard Rahl had been born with powers of the gift not seen in thousands of years. He had, after all, gotten closer to her than Darken Rahl ever had. He had sent those men who had murdered her mother. But Althea had also said that Jennsen was a hole in the world to those with the gift; Lord Rahl could hunt her, but not with magic.

“You will never be free,” Sebastian finally added in a quiet voice, “until you eliminate Richard Rahl.”

Her eyes turned toward him. “Why me? With all those fighting against him, why do you say until I eliminate him?”

But even as she was asking the question, she began to see the terrible answer.

“Well,” he said, leaning back. “I guess what I really meant to say was that you won’t be free until Lord Rahl is eliminated.”

He turned away and pulled a waterskin closer. She watched him take a long drink, then changed the subject.

“Captain Lerner said that Lord Rahl was married.”

“To a Confessor,” Sebastian confirmed. “If Richard Rahl was looking to find a wife who was his match in evil, he found her.”

“You know about her, then?”

“Only the little I’ve heard from the emperor. I can tell you what I know, if you want.”

Jennsen nodded. With a finger and thumb, she pulled some more salt pork off one of the long sticks, eating while she watched the firelight dance in his eyes as he spoke.

“The barrier between the Old World to the south and the New World to the north stood for thousands of years—until Lord Rahl destroyed it so that he might conquer our people. Probably not long before your mother would have been born, I think, the New World was itself divided up into three lands. To the far west was Westland. D’Hara is to the east. After killing his father and seizing rule, Richard Rahl destroyed these boundaries separating the three lands of the New World.

“Between Westland and D’Hara is the Midlands, an evil place where magic is said to hold sway and where the Confessors live. The Midlands is ruled by the Mother Confessor herself. Emperor Jagang told me that, while she is young, maybe my age, she is as smart as she is deadly.”

Jennsen was given pause by his chilling words. “Do you know what a Confessor is? What ‘Confessor’ means?”

Holding the waterskin, Sebastian draped a forearm over his bent knee. “I don’t know, except that she’s gifted with frightening power. Her mere touch burns away a man’s mind, making him into her mindless slave.”

Jennsen listened, rapt, appalled by such a notion. “And they really do anything she says—simply because she touched them?”

Sebastian handed her the waterskin. “Touched them with her evil magic. Emperor Jagang told me that her magic is so powerful that if she tells a man so enslaved that she wants him to die on the spot, he will do so.”

“You mean…he would kill himself right before her eyes?”

“No. I mean he would simply drop dead because she commanded it. His heart would stop, or something. He would just drop dead.”

Shaken by the very idea, Jennsen set the waterskin aside. She drew her blanket up around herself. She was exhausted, and she was weary of learning new things about Lord Rahl. Every time she learned something new, it was more terrible than the last thing. Her monster half brother, after he had killed their father, seemed to have wasted no time in assuming the family duty of hunting her.

After they’d eaten and seen to the horses, Jennsen curled up under a blanket and her cloak. She wished she could go to sleep and wake to find it had all been a bad dream. She almost wished she would never wake to have to face the future.

Because they had a fire, Sebastian didn’t sleep with his back to hers. She missed the comfort of that. With anguishing thoughts cascading through her mind, she stared into the flames, eyes wide open, as Sebastian fell asleep.

Jennsen wondered what she could do, now. Her mother was dead, so she had no real home. Home had been with her mother, wherever they were. She wondered if her mother was watching her from the world of the dead, along with all the other good spirits. She hoped her mother was at peace, and had happiness at last.

Jennsen felt an empty, desolate sorrow for Althea. There could be no help from the sorceress, and none wanted. Jennsen felt shame at the trouble she had brought to others who tried to help her. Her mother had died for the crime of giving birth to Jennsen. Althea’s sister, Lathea, had been murdered by Jennsen’s relentless hunters. Poor Althea was stuck forever in that awful swamp for the crime of trying to protect Jennsen when she had been but a child. Friedrich was almost as much a prisoner as Althea, his life robbed of many joys.

Jennsen remembered the thrill of Sebastian’s kiss. Althea and Friedrich had lost the pleasure of sharing passion. It was as if there had been that kiss for Jennsen, the awakening discovery, the spark of possibility, and then there could be no more, ever. She was in her own kind of swamp, also a prison of Lord Rahl’s making, trapped in the endless flight from killers.

She thought about what Sebastian had said, that she would never be free until she eliminated Richard Rahl.

Jennsen watched Sebastian as he slept. He had come unexpectedly into her life. He had saved her life. She could never have imagined, the first time she saw him, or the first night when she looked up into his eyes from across the fire after she had drawn the Grace at the cave entrance, that he would one day end up kissing her.

His spikes of white hair had a soft golden glow from the firelight. His face was such a pleasure for her.

What more was there for them? She didn’t know the answer to that. She didn’t know what that kiss had meant, or where it could lead them, if anywhere. She wasn’t sure she wanted it to. She wasn’t sure he did. She feared he didn’t.

The more open ground closer to the plains was soon behind them, and they began a difficult journey through deepening snow and rugged terrain taking them slowly but inexorably up into mountainous country. Sebastian had agreed to take her where she wanted to go, to the Old World. There, she hoped to be safe, to be free, for the first time in her life. Without Sebastian, such a dream would not even have been possible.

He told her that the rugged range of mountains they were entering, along with their vast tracks of forests, skirted the western edge of D’Hara, safely out of the way of most people, and would eventually lead them down toward the Old World. As they entered the sheltering solitude among the shadows of the towering peaks, they finally began to work their way more to the south, following the mountains toward a distant liberty.

The weather was brutal in the mountains. For several days they had to walk, lest they kill the poor horses. Rusty and Pete were hungry, and the heavy snow cover made it difficult for them to get at any vegetation. Their thick winter coats were getting mangy. At least they were still sound, if weak. The same could be said for her and Sebastian.

As the heavy overcast darkened ominously and a light snow began to fall late one afternoon, they were fortunate to find a small village. They spent the night there, letting the horses stay in the small stable, where they had good oats and clean bedding. There was no inn in the town. Sebastian and Jennsen paid a few copper pennies to sleep in the hayloft. After having been out in the open so long, Jennsen felt it was a palace.

The morning brought a storm with wind and snow, but even worse, the snow was interspersed with a heavy wet sleet that came in gales. Traveling in such conditions would be not only miserable, but dangerous. She was glad, especially for the horses, that it kept them at the stable an extra day and another night. The horses ate and rested while Sebastian and Jennsen told each other lighthearted stories from their youth. She loved to see the gleam in his eyes when he told her some of his misadventures of fishing as a boy. The next day dawned blue, but with a wind. Still, they dared not linger longer.

They made their way along roads or trails, since people were few and far between. Sebastian was ever cautious, but quietly confident that they would be safe enough. With the ever-present comfort of the knife at her belt, Jennsen, too, felt that it was better to risk the roads and trails rather than attempt to strike out across remote and unknown territory covered in a thick blanket of snow. Traveling cross-country was always difficult, from time to time dangerous, and with the barrier of towering mountains all about, frequently impossible. Winter only made such travel all the more difficult, but worse, hid perils lurking beneath the snow. They feared to have a horse break a leg attempting it needlessly.

That night, as she started building them a shelter by loosely weaving together a dozen saplings and covering them with balsam boughs, Sebastian stumbled back to their camp, panting from effort. His hands were slick with blood.

“Soldier,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

Jennsen knew what soldiers he meant. “But how could they have followed us? How could they!”

Sebastian looked away from her fury, her frantic demand. “It’s Lord Rahl’s gifted chasing us.” He pulled a deep breath. “Wizard Nathan Rahl saw you, back at the palace.”

That made no sense. She was a hole in the world to the gifted. How could any gifted follow a hole in the world?

He saw her dubious expression. “Not too hard to track through snow.”

Snow. Of course. She nodded in resignation, her fury turning to fear. “One of the quad?”

“I’m not sure. It was a D’Haran soldier. He came out of nowhere at me. I had to fight for my life. I killed him, but we must hurry and get out of here in case there were others nearby.”

She was too frightened to argue. They had to keep moving. The thought of men coming out of the darkness at them lent swiftness to her actions as they saddled the horses. They were quickly mounted and soon riding hard while there was still enough light to see by. They had to dismount, then, and walk to let the horses rest. Sebastian was sure they would have put distance on anyone after them. The snow helped them see, so that, even with clouds scudding past a partial moon, they were able to follow the road.

By the next night, they were so exhausted that they had to stop, even at the risk of being captured. They slept sitting up, leaning together before a small fire with their backs to a deadfall.

They made slow but steady progress in the days following and saw no sign of anyone following them. Jennsen took little comfort in that. She knew that they would not give up.

A stretch of sunny days allowed them to make good time. It was no comfort to her because they left clear tracks and the soldiers pursuing them would be able to make equally good time. They stayed to roads that had been traveled, whenever they came across them, so as to throw off and delay anyone who followed.

But then the storms returned. They pushed onward for five days despite near-blizzard conditions. As long as they could see the paths and narrow roads, and were able to put one foot in front of the other, they couldn’t afford to stop, because the wind and snow covered their tracks almost as soon as they made them. Jennsen had spent enough of her life outdoors to know that tracking them would be impossible in such conditions. It was their first real hope of slipping the noose from their necks.

They selected roads or trails randomly. Each time they came to a crossroads or fork, Jennsen was relieved to see it, because it meant another chance for their pursuers to choose wrong. Several times they cut cross-country, the drifting snow making it impossible for anyone to know where they had gone. Despite how weary she was, Jennsen began to breathe easier.

It was exhausting traveling in such conditions and it seemed like the foul weather would never relent, but then it did. Late in the afternoon, as the wind finally died, allowing the quiet of winter to settle back in, they came across a woman struggling along one of the roads. As they rode up behind her, Jennsen saw that the woman was carrying something heavy. Even though the weather had begun to break, fat snowflakes still drifted in the air. Sun shone through an orange slash in the clouds, lending the gray day a peculiar gilding.

The woman heard them coming and stepped aside. As they reached her, she held one arm up.

“Help me, please?”

It looked to Jennsen like the woman was carrying a small child all bundled up in blankets.

By the look on Sebastian’s face, Jennsen feared that he intended to pass on by. He would say that they couldn’t stop when they had killers and maybe even Wizard Rahl at their heels. Jennsen felt confident that, for the time being at least, they had succeeded in slipping away from their hunters.

When Sebastian cast her a sidelong glance, she spoke softly before he had a chance to say anything. “Looks like the Creator has provided for this needy woman by sending us to help her.”

Whether Sebastian was convinced by her words, or dared not challenge the Creator’s intentions, Jennsen didn’t know, but he drew his horse around to a halt. As he dismounted and took the reins to both horses, Jennsen slid down off Rusty. She struggled through heavy knee-deep snow to reach the woman.

She held out her bundle, apparently hoping it would explain everything. She looked as if she were ready to accept help from the Keeper himself. Jennsen drew back the flap of bleached wool blanket and saw a boy, maybe three or four, with a blotchy red face. He was still. His eyes were closed. He was burning up with fever.

Jennsen lifted the burden from the woman’s arms. The woman, about Jennsen’s age, looked exhausted. She hovered close, worry creasing her face.

“I don’t know what’s taken him,” the woman said, on the verge of tears. “He just came down sick.”

“Why are you out here in the weather?” Sebastian asked.

“My husband went off hunting two days ago. I don’t expect him back for several days more. I couldn’t just wait there with no help.”

“But what are you doing out here?” Jennsen asked. “Where are you going?”

“To the Raug’Moss.”

“The what?” Sebastian asked at Jennsen’s back.

“Healers,” Jennsen whispered to him.

The woman’s fingers traced their way along her boy’s cheek. Her eyes rarely left his little face, but she finally looked up.

“Can you help me get him there? I fear he’s getting worse.”

“I don’t know if we—”

“How far are they?” Jennsen asked, cutting Sebastian off.

The woman pointed down the road. “That way, the way you’re going. Not far.”

“How far?” Sebastian asked.

The woman, for the first time, began to weep. “I don’t know. I had hoped to make it by tonight, but it will be dark before long. I fear it’s farther than I can manage. Please, help me?”

Jennsen rocked the sleeping boy in her arms as she smiled at the woman. “Of course we’ll help you.”

The woman’s fingers clutched Jennsen’s arm. “I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“Hush, now. A ride is no trouble.”

“We can’t leave you out here with a sick child,” Sebastian agreed. “We’ll take you to the healers.”

“Let me get up on my horse, and then hand your boy up to me,” Jennsen said as she returned the child to his mother’s arms.

Once mounted, Jennsen stretched her arms down. The woman hesitated, fearing to part with her child, but then quickly handed him up. Jennsen settled the sleeping boy in her lap, making sure he was well balanced and secure, as Sebastian clasped arms with the woman and helped lift her up behind him. As they started out, the woman held Sebastian tight around the waist, but her eyes were on Jennsen and the boy.

Jennsen took the lead to give the woman the assurance of being able to see the stranger who now held her baby, and her hopes. She urged Rusty ahead through the deep snow, worried that the child was not really sleeping, but unconscious with fever.

The wind billowed snow around them as they raced along the road in the fading light. Concern for the boy, wanting to get him to help, made the road seemed endless. Each rise revealed only more forest ahead, each curve in the road yet another sweep of empty woods. Jennsen was concerned, too, that their horses couldn’t be pushed so hard through deep snow without a rest or they would drop. Sooner or later, despite the fading light, they would have to slow to give the struggling horses a rest.

Jennsen looked back over her shoulder when Sebastian whistled.

“That way,” the woman called, gesturing toward a cutoff to a smaller trail.

Jennsen urged Rusty to the right, up the trail. It rose abruptly, switching back and forth to ascend the sharp rise. The trees on the mountainside were huge, with trunks as big around as her horse, rising to a great height before branches spread overhead to close off the leaden sky. The snow was unbroken by anyone before them, but the lay of the trail, the dish in the surface of the snow, the undulating but smooth line it took up through the forest, among rocks and snow-crusted brush, and the way it followed beneath steep overhangs of rock wall and along ledges made it easy enough to follow.

Jennsen checked the boy asleep at her lap and found him the same. She watched the forest around them for any sign of people, but saw none. After being at the palace, in Althea’s swamp, and out on the Azrith Plains, it was comforting to again be in the forest. Sebastian didn’t especially like the woods. He didn’t like the snow, either, but she found it peaceful the way the snow lent the woods a sacred silence.

The smell of woodsmoke hanging in the air told her that they were close. A look over her shoulder at the mother’s face told her the same. Breaking over the top of a ridge revealed several small wooden buildings along a gently rising wooded slope. In a clearing behind was a small barn with a fenced paddock. A horse at the fence rail, its ears alert, watched them approaching. The horse lifted its head, tossing a whinny their way. Rusty and Pete both snorted a brief greeting in return.

Jennsen put two fingers between her teeth and whistled as Rusty plowed through the drifts toward the small cabin at the upper end, the only one with smoke rising from the chimney.

The door opened as she reached the building. A man threw on a flaxen cloak on his way out to greet them. He wasn’t old. He could be the right age. He pulled up the cloak’s broad hood against the cold before she could get a good look at his face.

“We have a sick boy,” Jennsen said as the man took hold of Rusty’s reins. “Are you one of the healers known as the Raug’Moss?”

The man nodded. “Bring him inside.”

The mother had already slid down off Sebastian’s horse and was standing beside Jennsen to receive her boy into her waiting arms. “Thank the Creator you’re here, today.”

The healer, laying a reassuring hand on the woman’s back, urging her toward the door, tilted his head in gesture to Sebastian. “You’re welcome to put your horses in the back with mine and then come inside.”

Sebastian thanked him and led the horses away while Jennsen followed the other two toward the door. In the failing light, she still hadn’t been able to get a good look at the man’s face.

It was too much to hope, she knew, but at the very least, this man was a Raug’Moss and could answer her question.