Wizard's First Rule (23 page)

When it did, Richard rolled to the side and sprang to his feet, drawing his sword. Kahlan screamed again. Richard swung in fury, severing the arm that held her. She tumbled back, free. Howling, the gar backhanding him before he could bring the sword up. The force of the blow sent him flying through the air, landing on his back.

Richard sat up, the world spinning and tilting. The sword was gone, thrown into the brush somewhere. The gar was in the center of the trail, wailing in pain and rage as blood gushed from the stump. Glowing green eyes searched frantically
for the object of its hate. They locked on Richard. He didn’t see Kahlan anywhere.

Off to his right, in the trees, there was a sudden blinding flash, illuminating everything with intense, white light. The violent sound of an explosion hammered painfully into his ears as the concussion from the blast tumbled him against a tree and knocked the gar from its feet. Rolling flames whirled through gaps in the trees. Giant splinters and other debris hurtled past, streaming trailers of smoke.

Richard began a frantic search for the sword as the gar came to its feet with a howl. Richard felt around on the ground, desperate, and partially blinded from the flash of the explosion. He had enough vision, though, to see the gar coming. His anger flared. He could feel it flare in the sword, too. The sword’s magic reached out to him, beckoned by its master. He called it forth, summoned it, hungered for it. It was there, across the trail. He knew it as surely as if he could see it. He knew exactly where it lay, as if he were touching it. He scrambled across the trail.

Halfway there the gar kicked him so hard he saw things moving past but couldn’t understand what they were. All he knew for sure was that every breath caused intense pain in his left side. He didn’t know where the trail was or where he was in relation to it. Blood flies were bumping into his face. He couldn’t get his bearings. But he did know where the Sword of Truth was.

He dove for it.

For an instant his fingers touched it. For an instant he thought he saw Zedd. Then the gar had him. It picked him up by his right arm and wrapped its repulsive, warm wings about him, hugging him close, his feet dangling in midair. He cried out from the sharp pain in his left ribs. Glowing green eyes burned into his, and the giant mouth snapped, showing him his fate. The immense maw split open for him, its fetid breath on his face, its black throat waiting. Wet fangs glistened in the moonlight.

With all his strength, Richard kicked his boot into the stump of the gar’s arm. It threw its head back, howled in pain, and dropped him.

Zedd emerged at the edge of the trees a dozen yards behind the gar. Richard, on his knees, grabbed the sword. Zedd threw his hands out, fingers extended. Fire, wizard’s fire, shot from his fingers and came shrieking through the air. The fire grew and tumbled, illuminating everything it passed, becoming a blue and yellow ball of liquid flame that wailed and expanded as it came, a thing alive. It hit the gar’s back with a thud, silhouetting the giant beast against the light. Within the space of a breath the blue-and-yellow flames washed over the gar, enveloping it, surging through it. Blood flies sparked into nothingness. Fire sizzled and snapped everywhere on the creature, consuming it. The gar disappeared into the blue heat and was gone. The fire swirled a moment and then it, too, was gone. The smell of burnt fur, and a hazy smoke, hung in the air. The night was suddenly quiet.

Richard collapsed, exhausted and in pain. The gashes on his back had dirt and gravel ground into them, and the pain in his left side seared into him with every breath. He wanted only to lie there, nothing more. The sword was still in his hand. He let the power of it wash through him, sustain him. He allowed the anger of it to let him ignore the pain.

The cat licked Richard’s face with his rough tongue and nuzzled the top of his head against Richard’s cheek. “Thank you, Cat,” he managed. Zedd and Kahlan appeared over him. Both bent down to take his arms and help lift him up.

“No! You’ll hurt me if you do that. Let me get up by myself.”

“What’s wrong?” Zedd asked.

“The gar kicked me in the left side. It hurts.”

“Let me look.” The old man bent over and gently felt Richard’s ribs. Richard winced in pain. “Well, I don’t see any bones sticking out. Can’t be that bad.”

Richard tried not to laugh, as he knew it would hurt. He was right. “Zedd, that was no trick. This time it was magic.”

“This time it was magic,” the wizard confirmed. “But Darken Rahl may have seen it too, if he was looking. We have to get out of here. Lie still, let me see if I can help.”

Kahlan knelt on his other side and cupped her hand on his, on the hand that held the sword, held the magic. When her hand touched his, he felt a surge of power from the sword that startled him and nearly took his breath away. Somehow, he felt the magic was warning him, and trying to protect him.

Kahlan smiled down at him. She hadn’t felt it.

Zedd put one hand on Richard’s ribs and a finger under his chin as he spoke in a soft, calm, reassuring voice. As he listened to Zedd, Richard dismissed the sword’s reaction to Kahlan’s touch on his hand. His old friend told him that three of his ribs were injured and that he was putting magic around them to strengthen and protect them until they could heal. He continued to talk in his special way, telling Richard how the pain would be reduced, but not gone, until the ribs were healed. He spoke more, but the words seemed somehow not to matter. When Zedd finished at last, Richard felt as if he were waking from sleep.

He sat up. The pain had lessened greatly. He thanked the old man and got to his feet. He put the sword away and picked up the cat, thanking him again. He handed the cat to Kahlan for her to hold while he searched for his pack and found it near the side of the trail where it had been thrown in the fight. The gashes on his back were painful, but he would worry about them when they got to where they were going. When the other two weren’t looking, he slipped the tooth from his neck and put it in his pocket.

Richard asked the other two if they were hurt. Zedd seemed insulted by the question. He insisted he wasn’t as frail as he looked. Kahlan said she was fine, thanks to him. Richard told her he hoped never to get in a rock-throwing contest with her. She gave him a big smile as she put Cat in his backpack. He watched as she picked up the cloak and put it around her shoulders, wondering at the way the sword’s magic had reacted when she had touched his hand.

“We had better be leaving,” Zedd reminded them.

After about a mile, several smaller paths intersected theirs. Richard led them down the one he wanted. The wizard spread more of his magic dust to hide their trail. Their way was narrower now, so they walked single file, with Richard in the lead, Kahlan in the middle, and Zedd in the rear. The three of them kept a wary eye to the sky as they walked along. Even though it was uncomfortable to do so, Richard walked with his hand on the hilt of the sword.

Shadows in the moonlight swept back and forth across the heavy oak door and its iron strap hinges as the wind bowed branches close to the house. Kahlan and Zedd didn’t want to climb the spiked fence, so Richard had left them on the other side to wait. He was just starting to reach up to knock on the door, when a big fist grabbed his hair and a knife pressed against his throat. He froze.

“Chase?” he whispered hopefully.

The hand released his hair. “Richard! What are you doing lurking about in the middle of the night! You know better than to sneak up to my place.”

“I wasn’t sneaking. I didn’t want to wake the whole house.”

“There’s blood all over you. How much is yours?”

“Most of it, I’m sorry to say. Chase, go unlock your gate. Kahlan and Zedd are waiting out there. We need you.”

Chase, cursing as he stepped on twigs and acorns with his bare feet, unlocked the gate, and shepherded them all into the house.

Emma Brandstone, Chase’s wife, was a kind, friendly woman, always wearing a smile on her bright face. She seemed the complete opposite of Chase. Emma would be mortified if she thought she had intimidated anyone, while Chase’s day wouldn’t be complete unless he had. Emma was like Chase in one respect, though. Nothing ever seemed to surprise or fluster her. She was typically unruffled at this late hour as she stood in her long, white nightdress, her gray-streaked hair tied back, making tea as the rest of them sat at the table. She smiled, as if it were normal to have blood-streaked guests come visiting in the middle of the night. But then, with Chase, it sometimes was.

Richard hung his pack over the back of his chair, taking the cat out and handing him to Kahlan. She put him in her lap, where he immediately began purring as she stroked his back. Zedd sat to his other side. Chase put a shirt on over his big frame and lit several lamps that hung from heavy oak beams. Chase had felled the trees, hewed the beams out, and placed them by himself. The names of the children were carved along the side of one. Behind his chair at the table was a fireplace made of stones he had collected in his travels over the years. Each had a unique shape, color, and texture. Chase would tell anyone who would listen where each had come from, and what sort of trouble he had encountered in retrieving it. A simple wooden bowl, full of apples, sat in the center of the stout pine table.

Emma removed the bowl of apples and replaced it with a pot of tea and a jar of honey, then passed around mugs. She told Richard to remove his shirt and turn his chair so she could clean his wounds, a task not unfamiliar to her. With a stiff brush and hot soapy water she scrubbed his back as if she were cleaning a dirty kettle.

Richard bit his bottom lip, holding his breath at times, and scrunched his eyes closed in pain as she worked. She apologized for hurting him, but said she had to get all the dirt out or it would be worse later. When she was finished cleaning the gashes, she patted his back dry with a towel and applied a cool salve while Chase got him a clean shirt. Richard was glad to put the shirt on, as it provided him at least a symbol of protection from her further ministering.

Emma smiled to the three guests. “Would anyone like something to eat?”

Zedd lifted a hand. “Well, I wouldn’t mind…” Richard and Kahlan both shot him a withering glare. He shrank back into his chair. “No. Nothing for us. Thank you.”

Emma stood behind Chase, combing her fingers affectionately through his hair. He sat in undisguised agony, barely able to tolerate her public display of sentiment. At last he leaned forward, using the excuse of pouring tea to put a stop to it.

With a frown, Chase pushed the honey across the table. “Richard, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve had a talent for sidestepping trouble. But lately, you seem to be losing your footing.”

Before Richard could answer, Lee, one of their daughters, appeared in the doorway, rubbing her sleepy eyes with her fists. Chase scowled at her. She pouted back.

Chase sighed. “You’ve got to be the ugliest child I’ve ever seen.”

Her pout turned to a beaming grin. Lee ran over to him, threw her arms around his leg, put her head on his knee, and hugged it tight. He mussed her hair.

“Back to bed with you, little one.”

“Wait,” Zedd spoke up. “Lee, come here.” She went around the table. “My old cat has been complaining that he has no children to play with.” Lee stole a peek toward Kahlan’s lap. “Do you know of any children he could visit?”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Zedd, he could stay here! He would have fun with us!”

“Really? Well then, he will stay here for a visit.”

“All right, Lee,” Emma said, “off to bed with you.”

Richard looked up. “Emma, could you do me a favor? Do you have any traveling clothes Kahlan could borrow?”

Emma looked Kahlan over. “Well, her shoulders are too big for my clothes, and her legs are too long, but the older girls have things I think would work nicely.” She smiled warmly at Kahlan and held out a hand. “Come on, dear, let’s see what we can find.”

Kahlan handed Cat to Lee and took her other hand. “I hope Cat won’t be a bother. He insists on sleeping on your bed with you.”

“Oh, no,” Lee said earnestly, “that will be fine.”

As they left the room Emma knowingly shut the door.

Chase took a sip of tea. “Well?”

“Well, you know the conspiracy my brother was talking about? It’s worse than he knows.”

“That so,” Chase said noncommittally.

Richard pulled the Sword of Truth from its scabbard and laid it on the table between them. The polished blade gleamed. Chase leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, lifting the sword with his fingertips. He let it roll into his palms, inspecting it closely, running his fingers over the word
Truth
on the hilt and down the fuller on each side of the blade, testing the sharpness of the edge. He betrayed nothing more than mild curiosity.

“Not unusual for a sword to be named, but typically the name is engraved on the blade. I’ve never seen the name put on the hilt.” Chase was waiting for someone else to say something consequential.

“Chase, you’ve seen this sword before,” Richard admonished. “You know what it is.”