Warheart (42 page)

He tilted his head back as he popped up above the surface of the rolling silver waters inside the well, and expelled the fluid of the sliph. With forceful, deliberate effort he drew in a deep breath of air. It hurt, as he expected, but that pain was only a distant consideration.

He looked around as he panted, catching his breath, once again getting accustomed to breathing air, and saw that the others were doing the same. He slipped one arm around Kahlan's waist and grabbed the top of the wall with his other hand. When she threw her arms over the top, he helped lift her up and out of the well. Once she was out, a hand reached down and seized his arm.

It was Nathan's.

Another hand took his other arm. It was Rikka's. Through his still-blurred vision he could see that she was wearing her red leather–always a worrisome sign with Mord-Sith. He was relieved to see both Nathan and Rikka. That told him immediately that Hannis Arc and Emperor Sulachan had not yet captured the People's Palace.

Together, the old wizard and the Mord-Sith helped lift him up and over the edge. The sickness inside him was sapping his strength. Besides Kahlan, Nicci and the two Mord-Sith were already out of the well. Nicci held her stomach, bending forward as she panted. Cassia rested with a hand on the stone wall of the well. As she caught her breath, Vale checked her single blond braid, marveling that it was not wet and dripping silver fluid.

Richard turned back to the well. “Thank you, Sliph. For now it would please me if you would stay here in case I need to travel again.”

The silver face smiled. “You were pleased, then, Master?”

Richard nodded, still catching his breath. “Yes. Always.”

Content with the answer, she said she would remain there. Her face melted back down into the choppy little waves of the quicksilver liquid and the pool gradually stilled until it was a quiet, mirrored surface of silver.

“Why would we need her again?” Kahlan asked, suspiciously.

“Who knows,” Richard told her, leaving it at that and hoping she didn't ask anything else.

Fortunately, she instead turned to the prophet. “Nathan, what are you doing down here?”

“I came to greet you, of course,” he said, lifting an arm with a grand gesture a king might give an adoring crowd.

Nathan's full head of straight white hair hung to his broad shoulders. His hawklike Rahl glare hooded his penetrating dark azure eyes. He was clean-shaven and ruggedly handsome, despite being nearly a thousand years old after having lived for most of his long life in the spell around the Palace of the Prophets that slowed time. Rather than the traditional robes of a wizard, he was wearing high boots, dark trousers, and a ruffled white shirt under an open dark green vest. He was also wearing a sword sheathed in an elegant scabbard at his hip.

A sword was about the last thing a wizard of Nathan's ability needed, but he liked carrying one anyway. Most of his life he had dressed in the traditional simple robes of a wizard, as was required of him at the Palace of the Prophets. Now free of that place, he liked to dress in his image of an adventurer from many of the books he'd read. Richard had often wondered if because he had never had a normal childhood, Nathan was living it out now that he was free to do so.

Nathan, looking serious, gestured to Richard's hip. “Where is your sword?”

Richard flicked a hand back at the well. “I couldn't bring it through the sliph.”

“Ah” was all Nathan said.

The tall, blond Mord-Sith shared a nod with Cassia and Vale before turning her attention back to Richard.

“Lord Rahl, if I may ask, where is Cara? Why isn't she protecting you? She should be with you.”

Richard's breath caught at the name. Before he could answer, Cassia lifted Cara's Agiel, worn around her neck, and answered in his place.

“She is, in a way. Cara died as all Mord-Sith want to die–giving her life for Lord Rahl. I carry her Agiel so that she may be with him in spirit, and so that I can always be reminded of her strength.”

Richard saw only a slight pause in Rikka's breathing.

“And where have you two been all this time?” she asked, looking between Cassia and Vale. She sounded like a mother unhappy with children who had not shown up for dinner.

Richard spoke up for Cassia and Vale. “They and the others with them were captured and forced to serve the man who is coming here to kill us all. The rest of those women, except Vika, are dead. Some of them died defending us.”

The harsh edges of Rikka's expression eased as she looked back at the two Mord-Sith. “Glad to have you both back to help protect Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor.”

Cassia revealed the slightest of smiles. “From my experience, they require a lot of defending. Lord Rahl, especially, wouldn't last long without at least one of us watching over him.”

Richard turned his attention back to Nathan. “How did you know we were coming? How is it that you were down here waiting for us?”

Nathan shrugged his broad shoulders as if it should be stone-cold obvious. “I'm a prophet. Prophecy came to me, saying that you would arrive down here, so we've been down here waiting.”

Richard didn't like the sound of that. He cocked his head. “A prophecy.”

“Yes,” Nathan said. “Oddly enough, I have been having a flood of prophecy lately. Prophecy of every sort. It's quite exciting actually. I've been visited by more prophecies in recent weeks than I've had my entire life. It's quite extraordinary, if the truth be told.”

“It's trouble,” Nicci said, as if reading Richard's thoughts.

“How so?” the prophet asked, not liking being contradicted. “How is knowledge trouble? It simply is what it is.”

Nicci waved away the question and asked one of her own instead. “There is an army on its way. Have you seen any sign of it, yet?”

Nathan's demeanor changed. He looked from Nicci to Richard.

“I think you had better come with me. There is something you need to see.” Without waiting or explaining, Nathan turned and headed for the door.

Outside the room with the sliph's well, the broad service corridor was filled with men of the First File. They were all heavily armed and looked in a grim mood. Colonel Zimmer, the big D'Haran commander and the highest-ranking man at the palace, rushed forward when he saw everyone emerge from the sliph's room. He scanned all the faces before leaning to the side, checking back in the room to see if anyone else would be coming out.

The colonel tapped a fist to his heart. “Lord Rahl, welcome back to the palace. I can't tell you how relieved I am to see that you and the Mother Confessor are safe. We have all been terribly worried.” It was clear by the look on his face that he meant it. The man cleared his throat. “If I might ask, Lord Rahl, why didn't you ride back with General Meiffert and the men who went to see you safely home? We expected to see you safely returned to the palace in their care.”

“I told you they would be coming through the sliph.” Nathan folded his arms, clearly feeling smug about the accuracy of his prophecy.

Richard was caught off-guard. It seemed like all he ever did was tell people about all those who had died.

“I'm afraid that General Meiffert, Commander Fister, and all the men they brought with them lost their lives fighting to protect us. We would not be alive if not for the sacrifice of all of those brave men.”

The colonel's face reflected the shock of the news. “Dear spirits … all of them?”

Richard confirmed it with a solemn nod. “There isn't much time and we have urgent problems that need to be addressed. I'm afraid that I am going to have to ask you to step up and take the place of General Meiffert. I am appointing you general of the First File.”

General Zimmer clapped a fist to his chest. “I take on the duty, Lord Rahl, but with a heavy heart.”

Richard joggled the man's shoulder. “I know. You're the right man for the job, and I know you will make those who came before you proud, those under your care safe, and those under your sword terrified.”

“Yes, yes,” Nathan said. “Appointment made. I already told the man that he would soon be promoted to general. As I told you, I have been having a number of prophecies of late. Now, we need to go have a look at the trouble we have.”

Richard had wondered why the man had shown so little reaction. General Zimmer glanced up at Richard.

“It's true, he did tell me that not long ago. I thought he meant many years from now. I didn't expect it to be so soon.”

Nathan waved a hand irritably. “Prophecy does not name the day, I told you that. Prophecy only–”

“You said you needed to show us something,” Richard said.

Nathan paused to scrutinize him for a moment. “Yes, this way.” He flicked a hand in the direction of the hallway with all the men.

Richard saw that the men at the head of all the soldiers had bows nocked with red-fletched arrows. They wore special black gloves for handling the deadly arrows. He turned to Nicci.

“Do you think those might stop the dead?”

Nicci's blue eyes turned to the nearest man with the red-fletched arrow nocked in his bow. “Possibly.”

“If I might ask, Lord Rahl?” the new general said as he scratched the hollow of his cheek. “What do you mean about stopping the dead?”

Richard skipped the explanations and went right to the part that mattered most. “The man who is coming to lay siege to the palace can reanimate the dead. Once brought back in this way, they are incredibly difficult to bring down. Regular weapons don't work because these corpses are driven by magic mixed with occult powers.”

Nathan turned and stared off down one of the halls, frowning.

A number of the soldiers shared looks at this news.

“How do we stop them, then?” General Zimmer asked.

“Stabbing them doesn't work, since they are already dead. If forced to fight them, do your best to hack off limbs. Fire stops them, so if you can throw pitch on them and set them ablaze that might work. Nathan and Nicci can lay down wizard's fire, and that certainly works, but the problem is with their numbers. My sword works against them. At least it would if it was with me.”

Richard started down the broad hallway but took only a few steps before coming to a halt and turning back. “What is that odd smell? It smells like something is burning.”

Nathan cast a brief glance toward a marble stairwell. “Do you know the crypts where the Rahl ancestors are laid to rest?”

Richard nodded. “Yes. Each is in a separate vault, each in their own ornate stone coffin.”

“Well, some of the stone down there is melting.”

Richard looked up from under his brow. “Melting?”

Nathan pulled on a long strand of gray hair. “Yes, melting.”

Richard raked his fingers back through his own hair as he tried to remember something about that happening before, a very long time ago. He finally looked up at the tall prophet.

“Shortly after I had killed Darken Rahl, I remember a man who said he was the master of the crypt staff coming to report the stone walls down in Panis Rahl's crypt melting.”

Nathan's bushy brows rose. “Really?”

Richard rubbed his chin as he stared off into the memory. “Yes. Zedd told the man to use white stone to seal it over.” Richard snapped his fingers and looked back at Nathan. “Zedd told him it had to be white stone from the quarry of the prophets. Zedd gave the man a pouch with some kind of magic dust and told him to mix it in with the mortar. He said to seal the crypt shut or the whole palace would melt.”

“That's the stone that's melting,” Nathan confirmed. “That wall of white stone. It's so hot down in that passageway that men can only go in there just long enough to throw a bucket of water at it to try to cool it down, but that's not helping much.”

“Is it some kind of magic that's melting it?” Richard asked.

Nathan shrugged. “None I recognize. We have been rather distracted by other matters, so I haven't been able to investigate it.” He held his arm out in invitation to continue what they had been going to do.

Richard turned to the men of the First File watching him.

“Could someone get me a sword, please?”

Almost instantly, a dozen of the nearest men pulled off their weapon belts and held out the hilts of their sheathed weapons to Richard.

Richard took a sword from a man who still had a battle-axe hanging on a hook at his hip. Richard thanked the man as he strapped the belt around his waist. He drew the sword and held it up, turning it, taking a quick look at it and checking its weight. It was a blade, and that was what mattered.

Richard slid the sword back into its sheath. “Let's go.”

The men moved aside to let him and those with him through. Rikka immediately stepped out in front of him. Absent Cara, she was determined to make certain he was protected. Cassia and Vale fell in behind Kahlan to guard Richard and Kahlan from behind. It had been a long time since the two Mord-Sith had been in the palace–since Darken Rahl had ruled. Although they had, in a way, taken possession of Richard in Cara's place, they seemed willing to let Rikka take charge. How they wordlessly determined such things, Richard didn't know.

The large force of the First File closed in behind them.

Richard had a lot of questions for Nathan, but he was more interested in what the man thought was so urgent that Richard see.

 

CHAPTER

51

Nathan rammed his shoulder against the heavy oak door. It finally, reluctantly, opened outward on rusty hinges. In the silence, the bottom scraping against the stone floor of the rampart sounded all the louder. As soon as the door opened, wind rushed in, lifting Kahlan's and Nicci's hair from their shoulders. That wind carried an unmistakable stink. The smell was so thick Richard could almost taste it.

Fleecy clouds of bright white with tattered, dark shadowing lay stacked in layers across the sky. At least it wasn't heavily overcast like the Dark Lands. By the direction of the light, Richard judged that it had to be late afternoon.