The Divide - Part 9
Title: The Divide - Part 9
Author: Aerows
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: M
Length: 7250 words
Warnings: Contains sex, violence and some gore in this one
Disclaimer: Legend of the Seeker and The Sword of Truth do not belong to me, unfortunately. No profit is made from this work, it's just for fun and no infringement is intended.
Summary: The New World is threatened by war. The Mother Confessor, Mord'Sith Cara and the Seeker are forced to make hard choices that will ultimately affect their world.
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A/N - There is a fairly gruesome scene involving a Quillion, but it is the same process used in the book. I chose to use that description, because I feel it should be a fairly significant act. Hopefully it doesn't make anyone too squeamish, but I wanted to give it what I felt was proper gravity.
* * *
The Divide - Part 9
Kahlan lay in the dark, still stunned over how something so momentous could happen so quickly. Cara had thrust a ring upon her finger, and fallen sweaty and bloody into bed beside her, announcing that she had upheld her “wife's” claims and D'Hara's. Kahlan wasn't sure whether to throw her Consort out of the bed, or to sink into the smell that was uniquely Cara beneath the sweat and blood. The wound in her shoulder was tempering her reactions and wasn't fully healed yet, but the long missed warmth of the blond woman next to her decided it for her. She stroked blond hair from Cara's forehead, and kissed it.
She sighed, and it sent another jolt of pain to her wound. Cara's blood-flecked hair was crashed upon the pillow of the cot. Her hands had greedily sought the Confessor's body in the night. It reminded Kahlan of the times they had shared a bed together, and how Cara had held her close, keeping her warm, and if reluctantly, keeping the dreams at bay. She wanted to beat on the Mord'Sith's chest for not even informing her of this “marriage” business, but she found the only thing that she wanted to do was draw her closer and care for her. She needed to bathe them both before they could face the morning.
The ring the beautiful blond had thrust on her finger was of little consequence to most, but to Kahlan, who had never supposed she would ever have a suitor that didn't come with Confession's devotion, it was precious. She was incensed that Cara took matters into her own hands after she had been shot, but she was deeply delighted that the blond had declared her love in such a fundamental way. Cara loved her as she was, without Confession. She was all at once swept in delight and if knotted by her sense of propriety, a glance at the promise that glinted on her hand told her that it was true.
Rising from the cot, she would be glad when Zedd finally healed her shoulder. Too many strange things had occurred, however, and she needed answers. A rogue Wizard plotting with Milena to place people under Concealment, combined with the attempt on her own life was urgent enough that even the Mother Confessor was willing to wait. In any case, she resolved to at least clean up the woman who lay dead to the world in the cot. The strain that had been evident in Cara's golden face was fading with sleep, but the bones that jutted from beneath her leather were still evidence that the Mord'Sith needed food and care.
Stroking the cloth against the woman's forehead, Kahlan blessed the day she had found the taciturn woman. The ring winking on her finger, the one Cara had pressed there, exemplified everything her Consort was; Cara was a woman of action. Humility was not in her nature, and never would be, just as expression of emotion would not be her hallmark. Action, however, would always reveal her true nature, and everything in the Mord'Sith's nature revealed what she felt.
Cara had, according to Berdine, felt it necessary to pursue justice for her injury. If Kahlan was honest with herself, she would have reacted no differently had the attack been upon the Mord'Sith. She had little choice when dealing with kingdoms gone rogue, and Milena had completely crossed the line. While she let most of the kingdoms in the Midlands manage things in their own way, according to their own custom, Tamarang had been mismanaged so badly there was little else to be done other than for her to take direct control over it. Combined with an attack upon the Mother Confessor, Milena had to know what would happen. That Milena had died before Cara could even get answers from her didn't sit well with Kahlan, either. It had hardly been Cara's fault; the woman's skull had been split in two by an axe blow before the Mord'Sith even entered the castle.
How in the Underworld did she end up with a Consort? Berdine had already explained that it was true, and the D'Haran law that explicitly stated it, but she had barely been awake before Cara's return. The exhausted, sleeping woman next to her had said very little, and considering the fatigue in the Mord'Sith's face, Kahlan had forgiven her enough to let her sleep. One thing was very clear, to her, however; when the Mord'Sith did awaken, they were long overdue for a serious discussion both about D'Haran law and their apparent marriage.
None of that prevented Kahlan from pressing her lips to the warm skin of her Mord'Sith's cheekbones, and thanking the Creator for her safe return. As she set about removing the red leather armor, Raina appeared to help her. Together, they cleaned the grime from the stubborn sleeping woman's body. The blond's legs had abrasions from too long in the saddle, which even one who was not a healer could see. Berdine promptly arrived to apply an ointment to the muscular thighs, until Kahlan glared at her and snatched it from the Mord'Sith's fist. If she missed the twinkling blue of the eyes to the dark-haired Mord'Sith that helped her strip Cara of her leathers, she missed the pleased look in the dark-eyed ones.
Kahlan certainly missed two gloved hands grasping in the dark of the tent, so focussed was she on brushing hair back from the woman's forehead who lay so still on their cot. If they saw the kiss she planted on the prominent cheekbone, below the blond hair, neither said anything, but their eyes flashed in silent communication. Raina placed a hand on the Lady Rahl's shoulder, and gestured that she should clean herself, while Berdine left to issue orders. There were times when it was up to the Mord'Sith to attend to the Lady Rahl, after all.
* * *
Zedd's grey eyes never flinched as he worked the razor-sharp athame. Paltrang's incoherent screams had merely caused flickers of retribution to fire in the eyes of the Mord'Sith that attended him in Stripping the Wizard of both his Han and his skin. Paltrang hung from his ankle on a hook in the ceiling of the small stone chamber; Mord'Sith seemed to know any number of places suited for bloody activities. The process of Stripping a Wizard included removing their skin, starting at the ankle and working the way down, while letting their blood flow into the Quillion below. Quillions were foul things in Zedd's opinion, but the First Wizard had never been known to shy away from using a tool when necessary, no matter how vile its purpose. The screaming man certainly hadn't thought twice about committing astonishing acts of evil, which he had related to Raina in detail under her unique attentions.
In this, the Quillion served the Midlands, D'Hara and the Westland. Zedd was hardly happy to be putting it to this use, but grim satisfaction of doing a job properly at least marked his countenance when the orange light in the vessel glowed to a deep red. It truly was a ghastly thing to Strip a Wizard of his Han, and Zedd hoped he would never have to do such a thing again, even to one as evil as Paltrang. Paltrang would never cast another Concealment again, and any who received the magic from the Quillion would never be blind to one. Paltrang, of course, would never be doing anything again, including breathing.
The Mother Confessor, bearer of the Sword of Truth should not have been fooled, and he had said so. It had apparently been sheer luck that neither Paltrang nor Tremane had been in her presence when she had drawn it, but Zedd had been First Wizard for far too long to believe in mere chance. It was highly possible that something else was at work here to augment both the dead Wizard and the false Tremane's luck. Interestingly, however, both men had their luck unravel quickly after the Mother Confessor had drawn the Sword of Truth during the Devotion.
The Mother Confessor had stood before a thirty-one thousand strong army of D'Harans and a scattering of Renwolders when she married the Mord'Sith; that at least gave Zedd confidence that the Concealment was not as widespread as he had feared. That the Mother Confessor had held the Sword of Truth while standing before all of them ensured that none could hide among her army now.
Zedd would have laughed at the idea of the Mother Confessor of the Midlands marrying a Mord'Sith of all people in a D'Haran style ceremony, but the gruesome task of the day had robbed him of his humor. He wasn't surprised in the slightest to learn that the two of them had finally done something about the relationship and clear attraction that had grown between them, but even he was surprised to learn that Cara loved Kahlan enough that she couldn't be Confessed. Berdine had been incredibly frank about offering that information to the point where the athame had nearly slipped out of his hand.
It unsettled him that Paltrang was able to carry out a Concealment in the first place. He honestly did not believe that Milena was bright enough to have been behind the entire scheme, but unfortunately, she had been killed in the chaos. Cara certainly couldn't give the Breath of Life to a person with their skull cleaved in half by a battle axe. It was one more coincidence that the one person that could offer the answers he sought was “accidentally” slain by her own men. It was far too tidy in Zedd's view that everyone involved had their luck run out at once. He intended to discuss it with the one person who knew more about Fate than anyone living, and was determined to go as soon as this business had been concluded.
There was really only one person who could be trusted with the Gift contained within the Quillion, and she wasn't going to like it one bit. With him leaving, however, he had to pass it to hands he knew without doubt would protect the Mother Confessor and Lady Rahl. Kahlan already had the power to discern the spell with the Sword of Truth if she used it wisely and Zedd had no doubt that the Mother Confessor would now that she was aware of the danger. He needed someone else to watch out for her, though, as risky as the proposition of passing on the Han of another Wizard could be. There was one person Zedd was completely confident would not only use restraint in using the magic of another Wizard's Han, but would actively shun using it. The last thing they needed was an untrained Gifted suddenly getting ambitious.
Preparing himself for a conversation that no doubt would be heated, Zedd cleansed himself and his ratty robes of the blood Paltrang had spilled over the long course of the ritual. He sat down to rest his weary bones, and eat a bit, too. There was still the matter of healing Kahlan, which she had insisted they delay while he sought answers. He was far too old to spend ten hours stripping a man slowly of his skin, no matter that it had been required. The auburn-haired Mord'Sith, Berdine, had proven surprisingly aware of his needs through out the Stripping, despite her tendency to speak in lurid detail. He silently thanked the Spirits for the many allies the Mother Confessor could gather. She would need the strength they could provide in the coming days, as much as they all would need hers.
* * *
“Wizard, you have gone senile.” Cara's eyes blazed with green fury and disbelief. The Wizard had finally come unhinged in her view, not that she had ever believed that he was very far from it. If he thought she would submit to some transference of a Han to her that did not involve her seizing control of it, he had reached the point of lunacy. “Have you discussed this with the Mother Confessor, yet, because I am certain she will have some very strong opinions on it.” Cara fully expected Kahlan to tell the Wizard to absorb the Han himself if it was absolutely necessary.
Cara was a Mord'Sith, and certainly had neither the time nor the inclination to get into the magic making business. She certainly couldn't function as a Mord'Sith, either, if some other Mord'Sith could seize control of her. If she started casting spells without meaning to do so, all manner of disasters could occur. The very thought made her skin crawl. She had been broken already, and had no intention of being on the receiving end yet again because of some hare-brained plan the Wizard concocted.
The Mother Confessor herself strode through the door, looking much better now that her shoulder had been healed. The baldric of the Sword of Truth was clearly fitted around her; it pleased Cara that the Mother Confessor had decided not to be separated from it now that she was well. Her face was still a little pale, and Cara was certain that Kahlan had not been resting or eating nearly as much as she should have been, but now that Cara had returned, she had every intention of taking care of the Mother Confessor. She was her wife, after all, and the stubborn Mother Confessor would have to at least listen to reason. That she had avoided the discussion she knew her wife had been striving to have all day long was yet another matter, but first she had to deal with this insanity the Wizard had dreamed up.
“I have strong opinions on many things, Consort. I'm pleased you have realized that it is wise to occasionally consult with me.” The way the Mother Confessor had emphasized the title clearly communicated her displeasure that the Mord'Sith had so far evaded her attempts at discussing the events of the past few days. Cara hadn't exactly been avoiding the Mother Confessor, but she had certainly made it her mission to be places where Kahlan would likely not. Blue eyes flashed at her, then went to the Wizard who looked wary that he might suddenly be witness to a spat he wanted no part of.
As always, however, Kahlan's face slipped into the serious mask of the Mother Confessor, clearly waiting for an explanation. That she stood close to the Mord'Sith, despite being clearly peeved with her was a good sign in Cara's estimation. Hopefully Kahlan could talk some sense into the crazy Wizard.
“Mother Confessor, someone besides yourself needs the power to detect a Concealment. I can think of no one I trust more to protect you than Cara, and as your Consort, she would be the last person to develop ambitions of being a rogue Gifted.” Zedd stated this all as though it was the most rational thing in the world. Kahlan's face didn't change, which rather alarmed Cara. Apparently the Mother Confessor didn't think this was nearly as bad of an idea as the Mord'Sith did.
“Can a Mord'Sith even absorb someone else's Han, Zedd? I know she can control one, why didn't you just allow the Wizard to live so that one of them could control his powers through them?” Finally, Cara thought, a rational question. It should have been asked before now, she thought, however she could immediately see a solution.
“Or we could transfer the powers to someone else and I could seize it.” She couldn't help it, her green eyes twinkled brightly at the woman beside her. The Mother Confessor was nothing if not astute and able to come up with sensible suggestions. Something like pride bloomed in the Mord'Sith that she shared something with Kahlan that no one else did, and if she had her way, never would. It was more than the slender ring that twinkled on the brunette's hand, remaining where Cara had placed it, but it pleased the blond greatly that her gift had apparently been accepted for what it was - confirmation of their union.
Zedd sighed, looking at both of them. “If it would have been that simple, Kahlan, I wouldn't have spent several hours Stripping a Wizard of his Han. It was hardly something I wanted to do.” His exasperation showed in his face, and the Mother Confessor continued looking at him. Clearly she was as lost as the Mord'Sith.
“Stripping a Wizard isn't an easy process, Mother Confessor. Do you not remember the state in which you found Wizard Garrick when the Sisters of the Dark seized him?” Zedd asked with an intensity that Cara recognized. He was going to remind the Mother Confessor of something that she herself knew nothing about, invoking the fact that the First Wizard had known the Mother Confessor before she met Cara. Kahlan's face paled slightly and she seemed to shudder, but she met Zedd's gaze boldly.
“Surely you do not think I would skin a man slowly and drain his blood for hours on end if it wasn't necessary!” For just a moment, the Mord'Sith could read both fatigue and horror in the Wizard's eyes. She knew that expression; he had seen and done things he wished that he had not. Her respect for the First Wizard went up a notch. She had always suspected the old man to have the will to do what needed to be done, even things that went against his own nature, but this example spoke clearly to her. She would have expected a Mord'Sith to be able to do such a thing. She would have never expected the Wizard to possess so much discipline.
“Then why did you?” Cara asked the question for both herself and Kahlan. If she moved a little closer to the Mother Confessor, it was she had noticed that Kahlan's face was still pale.
“Have I not taught the two of you anything?” Zedd asked. “Nothing is every easy, and there is more going on here than just Concealment. There is something occurring here that deals with the very underpinnings of Fate, and that always has unforeseen consequences.” Cara rolled her eyes, the retort that powerful magic always had unforeseen consequences sprung to her mind, particularly when it involved the Wizard she was standing before. Kahlan's hand on her arm kept her silent.
“I would not trust this to be controlled. Clearly, the power becomes fragmented the more who attempt to intercede with it.” Zedd made a frustrated sound. “No, the fewer variables we introduce this into, the better. Mother Confessor, you need another pair of eyes watching for those times when you cannot.” She certainly couldn't fault the Wizard for wanting to keep the Mother Confessor safe, but she would keep Kahlan Amnell safe by her will alone, fate be damned, if it came to it. She already had, and she would continue doing so.
“Zedd,” Cara struggled to keep her tone bored, “Don't you think giving a Wizard's Han to a Mord'Sith is exactly the type of new variable we don't want to introduce?” She was afraid the First Wizard was going to come up with exactly the sort of explanation that would end with her wearing a dress or some other nightmare. “Is it wise to grant one who can control a Wizard's Han direct influence over one herself?”
Green eyes darted between the Mother Confessor and the First Wizard. “You are the one that is always going on about how powers check themselves, with Mord'Sith balancing Wizards, the Wizards balancing Confessors, and Confessors balancing Mord'Sith.” She pointed this out, not liking the nod that passed between the Mother Confessor and Wizard. Both sent her looks were approving. She wanted to petulantly remind them both that she did indeed listen, but this was a time for logic. “If a Mord'Sith takes the power of a Wizard, it will disrupt the balance.” If her voice was harsher than necessary, it at least drove the point home to the two people looking thoughtful.
“You have already done something that no Mord'Sith has ever done, Cara Mason. You have been Confessed, Mord'Sith that you are, you are not checked.” The Wizard showed his teeth, and Cara could barely focus on anything but the small bits of dinner between them. It was all she wanted to focus upon. Zedd was picking up speed. “The Mother Confessor now has the power of the Seeker, and controls Mord'Sith and Wizards.” A blond head swiveled to glance at the face of the woman she had managed to somehow marry. She was the Lady Rahl, but that would never bind her as tightly as the ring that still twinkled on her finger, nor the kiss Kahlan had bestowed upon Cara's parched soul.
“Cara, the fact that you don't want this is exactly why you should be the one to take it.” He stated this as though it was perfectly obvious. “You have a strong enough will that you can control Gifted, and you already know the dangers inherent in the use of magic.
“Such as this one!” Cara retorted what was obvious to her mind. Magic that altered Fate itself sounded anything but safe, and the Mord'Sith didn't want anything to do with it. She vehemently said so again.
“I'll take the Han, Zedd.” Kahlan's voice was quiet, but determined, as she always became when ready to accept another responsibility. “Cara can carry the Sword of Truth.” She looked deeply into the Wizard's grey eyes, and then flickered to Cara's green ones. Kahlan stood as beautiful as always, tall, proud and with blue eyes that pierced the Mord'Sith's very soul. Resolve flickered across her aristocratic features, and settled into the confident serenity of the Mother Confessor.
Cara felt her heart sink. She couldn't part Kahlan from the Sword of Truth; there was no other weapon besides the Mord'Sith herself that could keep the Mother Confessor as safe as the magic inherent in the blade. More importantly, she could never allow Kahlan to do something dangerous that the Mord'Sith herself was not willing to do. “No, Kahlan.” She said it evenly, as though she was not quaking inside at the thought of doing so. “I will take the Wizard's Han if it will protect the Lady Rahl.” Her green eyes flickered to blue ones again. There was no surprise registering there, only concern and something like sadness. She cleared her throat in clarification, wanting to reinforce something only her Mate could invoke in her. “My wife, Kahlan Amnell, and her safety is my only priority.” She emphasized both.
If Kahlan took her gloved hand in her own, and the Wizard got a fond expression on his craggy face, Cara ignored both. She was drowning in glacial ponds of blue, and the sensations the small nod from the woman beside her created. In a rush of fortitude, Cara silently swore to herself. She made a vow to the woman who held her hand and her heart that she would do everything, even confront this, if it was required of her. The chaste kiss placed on her cheek would have made her scowl at any other time, as would the watching Wizard clearing his throat. This time, it just made something akin to pride surge in her heart, and a sense of rightness.
She turned her head and glared at the willowy old man. “Alright, Wizard. I will be the vessel for this power. Do what you must, so we can be done with this.” Zedd pulled the Quillion from his robes, and then started to explain. Cara didn't exactly pale, because she was gripping an Agiel at his explanation. Even Kahlan's palm at her back didn't fully set her at ease, but the warmth of it was a reminder. She stared at them both and the Quillion with trepidation. One more glance at the blue eyes, though, and the pale hand on her arm strengthened her.
Cara felt strength ebb and flow into her, and the only feeling she could hold on to was the Mother Confessor's pale, strong hand in hers. As the feeling took her, it reminded her of all the desire Kahlan's lips had ever spread like liquid fire in her heart. If it was disconcerting that time and fate itself had taken up residence in her bones, it was only because it was already there. The only grip she truly felt was the pale hand and the blue eyes she peered into.
* * *
If Zedd was worried about leaving the Han to Cara, he was at least relieved that the tall Mord'Sith that helped him, Berdine, assured him she would be able to assist the Lady Rahl's Consort, a term that still made his eyes widen a little. Zedd suspected that the auburn-haired Mord'Sith used that term intentionally; she seemed to get a great amount of joy from needling people. His main concern was what he would learn from visiting Shota.
The Witch-woman was the most powerful Gifted in the Midlands besides himself, perhaps even more so, though her methods differed greatly from his. If someone was twisting the Fabric of Fate, the Witch-woman would know about it long before anyone else. She might stay in her sanctuary of Agaden Reach, but her power to read events as they occurred or even would occur in the world was vast. Even Zedd was unclear on just how far that ability went, though he suspected she was purposefully vague as Witch-women were want to be.
Thoughts jumbling through his mind, Zedd sat at a table at the mess tent, eating a hearty breakfast before leaving. Just as he was buttering a second biscuit and munching on the remains of the first rasher of bacon, a dark-haired woman in a riding dress of dusky pink approached his table. She looked familiar to the Wizard, but his eye was inexorably drawn the generous amount of cleavage displayed above her divided skirts and dark boots. He might be old, but the First Wizard was very much still a man.
“Wizard, good morning.” Before Zedd could even back his chair away from the table, the dark-haired woman had pulled one out and sat down. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and she reached for the basket of biscuits on the table and began buttering one herself. The First Wizard was still rather flustered by the view he had gotten as she leaned down to sit, but when she began eating part of his breakfast, he found his voice.
“Excuse me, Lady, do I know you?” He inquired. The darkly tanned face spread into a grin, and she casually moved the coat of her riding clothes aside so that he could see an Agiel hidden among the divided skirts. Her smile widened at his recognition and roll of his eyes. “As you can see, Wizard, I'm no Lady.” She leaned in as though to say it conspiratorially, once again providing a distracting sight. Now that Zedd knew what she was, it wasn't nearly so appealing to him.
She calmly began eating her biscuit, which encouraged Zedd to continue eating his. There really was no need for the food to get cold just because a strange Mord'Sith had arrived at his table. “My name is Mistress Rikka, but of course, for the purpose of our journey, you may call me Rikka.” She popped the remains of the biscuit into her mouth, and promptly reached for another, then gestured for the dish of eggs that sat by Zedd's elbow while signaling with a hand to a serving maid that was carting out plates of food and drinks.
“Our journey?” He asked incredulously. “I assure you, um Rikka was it?” At her sharp nod he continued. Where ever you may be going, I will be traveling elsewhere.” He was rather shocked at how much food the young woman was putting away, but obligingly handed her the plate of eggs; they were rather delicious. She rather rivaled himself in that department, and while it was always nice to dine with someone who appreciated a good meal, she was still Mord'Sith. No matter how she was dressed, there was one reason, and one reason alone that a woman carried an Agiel at her side.
At just that moment, a familiar figure with blond hair wearing blood red leather strutted up to their table. Zedd knew the Mord'Sith, Consort of the Lady Rahl, was anything but pleased about the Gift he had bestowed upon her. Glancing at the woman in the dark pink riding attire, who was busily eating from everything on the table, he sensed her doing. It would be just like Cara to exact her revenge by sending him along with a Mord'Sith. She was no doubt still unhappy at having to consume the noxious glowing fluid in the Quillion. He himself had never tasted it, but was told it tasted like rancid bacon drippings and the wash water used to boil socks. He likely never should have asked her if she required honey to get it all down.
“Rikka, I'm pleased you managed to join the First Wizard before he left.” Her voice was plain in tone, and her expression raked over the both of them. “Not that I had any doubts that you would have left yet, or where to find the two of you.” Cara's voice was laced disapproval, as she eyed them both by turns. Her green eyes still snapped, and while she was polite, it almost seemed forced. The fact that she knew Rikka had the same propensity for dining as the Wizard, however, made Zedd hopeful that perhaps she had forgiven him for burdening her. She had insisted, eventually, after all.
“The Mother Confessor,” she intoned the words while glancing at Zedd, “Lady Rahl,” she added for Rikka's benefit. She paused waiting for them to acknowledge what she had said. “The Mother Confessor ordered Mord'Sith to accompany you for your protection, First Wizard Zeddicus.” Zedd sighed; when Cara used his full title, that meant it was a formal order from the Mother Confessor. That also meant a Mord'Sith was coming with him whether he liked it or not. Cara smirked, “She is a good cook Wizard. You won't starve on the way.” Rikka shot the blond Mord'Sith a glare; cooking for some Wizard wasn't exactly high on her list of things to do.
That news brought a smile to Zedd's face, and he once again dug into his plate. Perhaps he could handle having a Mord'Sith along, after all. With a curt nod to them both, Cara sauntered away. Rikka continued glaring at the departing figure, but accepted another rasher of bacon from the serving cart. Noting that her charge had finished his, she rolled her eyes and put the plate of bacon down between them. His grey eyes twinkled and he politely only took three pieces, leaving her another three. She merely poured a large mug of milk from the pitcher and nodded appreciatively at the eggs. Surprisingly, it occurred to Zedd that traveling with a Mord'Sith wouldn't be so bad, after all. Even Cara had her moments, and additionally, this Rikka knew how to eat.
Replete with breakfast, Rikka and Zedd amicably discussed their journey and the destination. While there was a sense of urgency to the mission, Rikka mentioned a little Inn just north of the area they were riding through that Zedd had also visited. For a Mord'Sith, Zedd thought, Rikka truly was a fine traveling companion. He found himself looking forward to it. Just as they reached their horses and were about to mount up, a third horse road up carrying a middle-aged woman. Rikka sighed beside Zedd, and climbed into the saddle gracefully with a grimace on her face.
This woman was also wearing a riding dress, but it was of a very severe cut and a color just darker than what he assumed was the normal color of the leather she wore. She moved her coat aside to unnecessarily flash two Agiels, and cocked an eyebrow at Zedd. “Well, Wizard are you planning to ride that horse or just lead it? Half the day is gone already.” Her voice was coarse and Zedd imagined that Cara at her absolute worst could teach this woman about social niceties.
“And just who are you? I already have a Mord'Sith coming along to protect me, as though a Wizard of the First Order actually needed one.” He scoffed at the middle aged woman, but he still climbed onto his horse under her stern eye. She scowled at him for apparently noting that they were both Mord'Sith, as though anyone in a D'Haran camp wouldn't recognize both of them for what they were.
The blond-haired Mord'Sith gave both of them a measuring glance, her gaze running over both horses as though inspecting their travel preparations. Zedd became immediately irritated; he had been traveling before this woman was born, and opened his mouth to say so. She cut him off with a reply. “I'm Mistress Nyda. You can call me Nyda. Rikka is here to protect you, Wizard. I'm here to protect both of you by keeping you out of trouble.” With that, Rikka and Zedd shot each other offended glances, but the blond Mord'Sith was already starting to ride away.
Zedd had half a dozen things he wanted to say, and even considered using his magic to teleport a few miles away. He suspected that no matter what he did or said, however, this Nyda was going to find him. Rikka just shrugged unhappily at him and followed Nyda. Zedd decided that, if for no other reason, at least he would follow along with the person that knew how to cook. Nothing was ever easy.
* * *
Cara had left the mess tent after confirming that Nyda would be going with the Wizard and Rikka. It wasn't that she didn't trust them, or at least that wasn't the only reason. If left to their own devices, the two would likely stop at every inn, farmhouse and tavern on the way to Agaden Reach, if they ever got there at all. She had managed to awaken before Kahlan, and had once again dressed hurriedly. She really did have several things to do, as did the Mother Confessor. If they both were too busy and needed to put their conversation off for a few days, then it was just as well.
She had nearly reached the stables when Berdine appeared. The Mord'Sith was ever impeccable in the brown leather she preferred, but today she was dressed in the blood-red that Cara usually favored. If there was a sparkle in Berdine's blue eyes, there usually was. Cara turned with her hand on an Agiel at her hip, saying nothing, just indicating for Berdine to speak.
“The Lady Rahl needs to question someone, Cara, and she specifically requested your presence.” Berdine said succinctly. The blond Mord'Sith was intrigued; she could only imagine what had happened between the time she had left their tent to the time she had spent preparing Zedd and his “protection”. Nodding, she followed Berdine. The auburn-haired Mord'Sith didn't indicate that she knew who or what the questioning was about. Cara was about to probe her further when Berdine stopped by the tent she and the Mother Confessor shared. Puzzled, Cara entered as Berdine withdrew back outside.
Inside the tent sat a table with a generous looking breakfast, and Kahlan wearing her traveling leathers. She smiled at the Mord'Sith, and gestured for her to take a seat. There was only one other at the table. “Berdine said you had someone you need to question and that you requested my presence.” Cara paused with her gloved hands on the back of the chair.
The Mother Confessor looked inordinately pleased with herself, which never was a good sign. While she knew very little about being wed, she was aware from experience that when Kahlan got that look in her eyes, Cara was in for a conversation she likely didn't want to have. Blue eyes sparkled at her, and Kahlan smoothly replied, “Indeed I do need to question someone, and since it is you, your presence is required.” The Mother Confessor then rose gracefully from her chair and seized the Mord'Sith by the back of her blond head and planted a searing kiss on her mouth that left them both gasping.
Cara's hand immediately slid down Kahlan's slim waist, pulling her tightly against her, while the other stroked down to caress the delicious amount of thigh showing above the Mother Confessor's high boots. Breakfast was immediately forgotten when she felt the warm hand on her breast, fondling it through the leather. Her gloved hands snaked higher, gripping Kahlan's firm thigh right below her behind, and yanked it over her hip. While this was not the conversation she was expecting to have, she had been burning to touch the Mother Confessor. Even through her gloves she could feel the heat radiating from between her lover's legs, through the little breeches she wore. When Cara slid a gloved finger up the side of them, to tease Kahlan's cleft, she moaned at the slickness she felt there.
Kahlan leaned back in her embrace, and Cara lifted her other thigh onto her hips. Somehow she managed to maneuver them both the the cot without knocking over the table, breakfast and all. What mattered right then was the hot, slick tongue that was consuming her mouth, and the hands that wandered her body, gripping her tightly in just the right places. Hurriedly she brought her gloved hand to her mouth, tasting the wetness the Confessor had left on the fingertip, and she pulled it away with her teeth. Kahlan pulled off the other one in the meanwhile, and worked at the laces near Cara's throat. The Mord'Sith seized her lovers lips in another soul-burning kiss while her hand resumed it's path of the glorious expanse of thigh. It had been far too long, and far too little with Kahlan.
When her hand stroked the liquid arousal of the Mother Confessor's center and heard a sharp moan of pleasure she realized it would never be enough with her. She barely got the small breeches down to the tops of the high boots before her fingers were trailing through the wetness, this time with more force. Kahlan had maneuvered a thigh between her own, and it was setting her on fire. She never intended to take the Mother Confessor so urgently, but it appeared that she was not the only one in dire need.
The pressure of Kahlan's thigh rubbing against the leather was creating just enough friction. She ground her hips down, still kissing the woman that lay beneath her, fingers moving in time with her grinding hips. Kahlan moaned forcefully against her mouth when she let a bare fingertip slide down to stroke her opening, and Cara took it as an invitation. Slipping inside the incredibly tight passage, and making circles against Kahlan's clit, she felt the pressure of the thigh between her legs increase.
When she slid a second finger into Kahlan, and watched color bloom even stronger into her lover's cheeks, the harsh breath, and harsh strokes of her own hips caught up with her. Wetness flooded her fingers, and thunder without sound exploded in a whirlwind of dust and falling objects, just as tremors of pleasure shook Cara's own body. Kissing the lips of the Mother Confessor, as they both exploded into orgasm, Cara felt something within her shake with intensity. It was Kahlan Amnell that had turned her soul into a garden, and something more than a barren ash into a heart.
Laying her forehead against her wife's neck, feeling damp raven hair caress her cheek, Cara whispered things that she never would have imagined would dare cross her lips. Small kisses with her lips, designed to convey emotions she thought she would never have danced on the Mother Confessor's skin. Guilt riddled her soul; it was time to discuss her feelings with the Mother Confessor, and their marriage. Cara wasn't concerned in the slightest with her actions against Tamarang, nor the defense of Renwold. She wouldn't have done the slightest thing differently, except perhaps having her Herald drag Milena out in the yard for protection, but she could hardly be faulted for not foreseeing that consequence.
Warm blue eyes greeted the kisses on her cheek, and lips returned them. “I like the ring.” A dark-haired head ducked down amid the kisses to glance at it upon her outstretched hand. At that moment, Cara nearly forgave Berdine everything for obtaining it for her. It then crossed her mind that Raina was probably responsible, but the dark-haired beauty beneath her lips shifted, and she heard the opening of a box. Kahlan moved to look at her, blue eyes wide open, dark hair spread across the pillow. Her eyes flickered down to see a platinum band similar to the one she had given the Mother Confessor, but set with a flush ruby slide upon her naked finger. As the ring encompassed the flesh of the Mord'Sith's finger, there truly was no more to say in Cara's mind.
“I wanted you to have this, and to know, I accept your offer, Consort.” Kahlan was teasing. It was altogether unexpected of a reaction from the Lady Rahl and Mother Confessor of the Midlands. She met blue eyes with a question in her own, but rich laughter was all that met her look. “I realized that after taking the magic, you really couldn't do anything more to answer my questions about whether you loved me. I know you do, and I love you, Cara. There is no one else I'd rather spend my life with.” To Cara's delight, apparently there was little else to say in Kahlan's either.
A nip at her neck inflamed her again, but an insistent grip on her shoulder stopped her own from ravishing their prey. “We will talk later, Cara, that is a promise.” The blue eyes burned into hers, and she felt the urge to roll her eyes. A hand was stroking her between her thighs, and it was all she could do to remain coherent. “I have a question, Mord'Sith.” The Mother Confessor emphasized it with a squeeze of her awakened sex, gripping tightly in a way that made the Mord'Sith want to gyrate her hips. At that moment, she would have given anything, told any truth.
“What is it, Kahlan?” Her own voice sounded entirely too breath, but blood was pounding in her ears, and the firms strokes applied just where she wanted them was making her lose her concentration. Burying her nose in the pile of hair that cascaded down the Mother Confessor's breasts, she attempted to regain control. Firm hands lifted the Mord'Sith's chin, then teeth sank into her neck in a delicious biting pain that set her body on fire. “Can you do that again?” Opening her eyes for one second, she caught a hot expression that set her own blood aflame. They were both wearing entirely too many clothes.
She kissed Kahlan with a storm of tongues. The Confessor squirming beneath her spoke of promises they would both keep, and promises that would be impossible to break. If a glint of magic briefly flared in the ruby the Mord'Sith wore on her hand as her own desire got hot again, neither woman noticed.
Berdine and Raina were knocked off of their feet in an explosion of dust, and resolved that the Lady Rahl would be getting a bigger tent.
* * *
A/N.2 - Sometimes I forget that not everyone is from the US, and I am definitely from the South. The biscuits I refer to over the breakfast are the fluffy, Southern kind, not the crunchy cookie kind everyone else in the world is familiar with - these are the kind that go with white gravy. I don't eat breakfast, personally, but biscuits and gravy are synonymous with a Southern breakfast. I imagine that they are a part of a D'Haran breakfast, too. Hey, at least I didn't make them eat grits!
Author: Aerows
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: M
Length: 7250 words
Warnings: Contains sex, violence and some gore in this one
Disclaimer: Legend of the Seeker and The Sword of Truth do not belong to me, unfortunately. No profit is made from this work, it's just for fun and no infringement is intended.
Summary: The New World is threatened by war. The Mother Confessor, Mord'Sith Cara and the Seeker are forced to make hard choices that will ultimately affect their world.
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A/N - There is a fairly gruesome scene involving a Quillion, but it is the same process used in the book. I chose to use that description, because I feel it should be a fairly significant act. Hopefully it doesn't make anyone too squeamish, but I wanted to give it what I felt was proper gravity.
* * *
The Divide - Part 9
Kahlan lay in the dark, still stunned over how something so momentous could happen so quickly. Cara had thrust a ring upon her finger, and fallen sweaty and bloody into bed beside her, announcing that she had upheld her “wife's” claims and D'Hara's. Kahlan wasn't sure whether to throw her Consort out of the bed, or to sink into the smell that was uniquely Cara beneath the sweat and blood. The wound in her shoulder was tempering her reactions and wasn't fully healed yet, but the long missed warmth of the blond woman next to her decided it for her. She stroked blond hair from Cara's forehead, and kissed it.
She sighed, and it sent another jolt of pain to her wound. Cara's blood-flecked hair was crashed upon the pillow of the cot. Her hands had greedily sought the Confessor's body in the night. It reminded Kahlan of the times they had shared a bed together, and how Cara had held her close, keeping her warm, and if reluctantly, keeping the dreams at bay. She wanted to beat on the Mord'Sith's chest for not even informing her of this “marriage” business, but she found the only thing that she wanted to do was draw her closer and care for her. She needed to bathe them both before they could face the morning.
The ring the beautiful blond had thrust on her finger was of little consequence to most, but to Kahlan, who had never supposed she would ever have a suitor that didn't come with Confession's devotion, it was precious. She was incensed that Cara took matters into her own hands after she had been shot, but she was deeply delighted that the blond had declared her love in such a fundamental way. Cara loved her as she was, without Confession. She was all at once swept in delight and if knotted by her sense of propriety, a glance at the promise that glinted on her hand told her that it was true.
Rising from the cot, she would be glad when Zedd finally healed her shoulder. Too many strange things had occurred, however, and she needed answers. A rogue Wizard plotting with Milena to place people under Concealment, combined with the attempt on her own life was urgent enough that even the Mother Confessor was willing to wait. In any case, she resolved to at least clean up the woman who lay dead to the world in the cot. The strain that had been evident in Cara's golden face was fading with sleep, but the bones that jutted from beneath her leather were still evidence that the Mord'Sith needed food and care.
Stroking the cloth against the woman's forehead, Kahlan blessed the day she had found the taciturn woman. The ring winking on her finger, the one Cara had pressed there, exemplified everything her Consort was; Cara was a woman of action. Humility was not in her nature, and never would be, just as expression of emotion would not be her hallmark. Action, however, would always reveal her true nature, and everything in the Mord'Sith's nature revealed what she felt.
Cara had, according to Berdine, felt it necessary to pursue justice for her injury. If Kahlan was honest with herself, she would have reacted no differently had the attack been upon the Mord'Sith. She had little choice when dealing with kingdoms gone rogue, and Milena had completely crossed the line. While she let most of the kingdoms in the Midlands manage things in their own way, according to their own custom, Tamarang had been mismanaged so badly there was little else to be done other than for her to take direct control over it. Combined with an attack upon the Mother Confessor, Milena had to know what would happen. That Milena had died before Cara could even get answers from her didn't sit well with Kahlan, either. It had hardly been Cara's fault; the woman's skull had been split in two by an axe blow before the Mord'Sith even entered the castle.
How in the Underworld did she end up with a Consort? Berdine had already explained that it was true, and the D'Haran law that explicitly stated it, but she had barely been awake before Cara's return. The exhausted, sleeping woman next to her had said very little, and considering the fatigue in the Mord'Sith's face, Kahlan had forgiven her enough to let her sleep. One thing was very clear, to her, however; when the Mord'Sith did awaken, they were long overdue for a serious discussion both about D'Haran law and their apparent marriage.
None of that prevented Kahlan from pressing her lips to the warm skin of her Mord'Sith's cheekbones, and thanking the Creator for her safe return. As she set about removing the red leather armor, Raina appeared to help her. Together, they cleaned the grime from the stubborn sleeping woman's body. The blond's legs had abrasions from too long in the saddle, which even one who was not a healer could see. Berdine promptly arrived to apply an ointment to the muscular thighs, until Kahlan glared at her and snatched it from the Mord'Sith's fist. If she missed the twinkling blue of the eyes to the dark-haired Mord'Sith that helped her strip Cara of her leathers, she missed the pleased look in the dark-eyed ones.
Kahlan certainly missed two gloved hands grasping in the dark of the tent, so focussed was she on brushing hair back from the woman's forehead who lay so still on their cot. If they saw the kiss she planted on the prominent cheekbone, below the blond hair, neither said anything, but their eyes flashed in silent communication. Raina placed a hand on the Lady Rahl's shoulder, and gestured that she should clean herself, while Berdine left to issue orders. There were times when it was up to the Mord'Sith to attend to the Lady Rahl, after all.
* * *
Zedd's grey eyes never flinched as he worked the razor-sharp athame. Paltrang's incoherent screams had merely caused flickers of retribution to fire in the eyes of the Mord'Sith that attended him in Stripping the Wizard of both his Han and his skin. Paltrang hung from his ankle on a hook in the ceiling of the small stone chamber; Mord'Sith seemed to know any number of places suited for bloody activities. The process of Stripping a Wizard included removing their skin, starting at the ankle and working the way down, while letting their blood flow into the Quillion below. Quillions were foul things in Zedd's opinion, but the First Wizard had never been known to shy away from using a tool when necessary, no matter how vile its purpose. The screaming man certainly hadn't thought twice about committing astonishing acts of evil, which he had related to Raina in detail under her unique attentions.
In this, the Quillion served the Midlands, D'Hara and the Westland. Zedd was hardly happy to be putting it to this use, but grim satisfaction of doing a job properly at least marked his countenance when the orange light in the vessel glowed to a deep red. It truly was a ghastly thing to Strip a Wizard of his Han, and Zedd hoped he would never have to do such a thing again, even to one as evil as Paltrang. Paltrang would never cast another Concealment again, and any who received the magic from the Quillion would never be blind to one. Paltrang, of course, would never be doing anything again, including breathing.
The Mother Confessor, bearer of the Sword of Truth should not have been fooled, and he had said so. It had apparently been sheer luck that neither Paltrang nor Tremane had been in her presence when she had drawn it, but Zedd had been First Wizard for far too long to believe in mere chance. It was highly possible that something else was at work here to augment both the dead Wizard and the false Tremane's luck. Interestingly, however, both men had their luck unravel quickly after the Mother Confessor had drawn the Sword of Truth during the Devotion.
The Mother Confessor had stood before a thirty-one thousand strong army of D'Harans and a scattering of Renwolders when she married the Mord'Sith; that at least gave Zedd confidence that the Concealment was not as widespread as he had feared. That the Mother Confessor had held the Sword of Truth while standing before all of them ensured that none could hide among her army now.
Zedd would have laughed at the idea of the Mother Confessor of the Midlands marrying a Mord'Sith of all people in a D'Haran style ceremony, but the gruesome task of the day had robbed him of his humor. He wasn't surprised in the slightest to learn that the two of them had finally done something about the relationship and clear attraction that had grown between them, but even he was surprised to learn that Cara loved Kahlan enough that she couldn't be Confessed. Berdine had been incredibly frank about offering that information to the point where the athame had nearly slipped out of his hand.
It unsettled him that Paltrang was able to carry out a Concealment in the first place. He honestly did not believe that Milena was bright enough to have been behind the entire scheme, but unfortunately, she had been killed in the chaos. Cara certainly couldn't give the Breath of Life to a person with their skull cleaved in half by a battle axe. It was one more coincidence that the one person that could offer the answers he sought was “accidentally” slain by her own men. It was far too tidy in Zedd's view that everyone involved had their luck run out at once. He intended to discuss it with the one person who knew more about Fate than anyone living, and was determined to go as soon as this business had been concluded.
There was really only one person who could be trusted with the Gift contained within the Quillion, and she wasn't going to like it one bit. With him leaving, however, he had to pass it to hands he knew without doubt would protect the Mother Confessor and Lady Rahl. Kahlan already had the power to discern the spell with the Sword of Truth if she used it wisely and Zedd had no doubt that the Mother Confessor would now that she was aware of the danger. He needed someone else to watch out for her, though, as risky as the proposition of passing on the Han of another Wizard could be. There was one person Zedd was completely confident would not only use restraint in using the magic of another Wizard's Han, but would actively shun using it. The last thing they needed was an untrained Gifted suddenly getting ambitious.
Preparing himself for a conversation that no doubt would be heated, Zedd cleansed himself and his ratty robes of the blood Paltrang had spilled over the long course of the ritual. He sat down to rest his weary bones, and eat a bit, too. There was still the matter of healing Kahlan, which she had insisted they delay while he sought answers. He was far too old to spend ten hours stripping a man slowly of his skin, no matter that it had been required. The auburn-haired Mord'Sith, Berdine, had proven surprisingly aware of his needs through out the Stripping, despite her tendency to speak in lurid detail. He silently thanked the Spirits for the many allies the Mother Confessor could gather. She would need the strength they could provide in the coming days, as much as they all would need hers.
* * *
“Wizard, you have gone senile.” Cara's eyes blazed with green fury and disbelief. The Wizard had finally come unhinged in her view, not that she had ever believed that he was very far from it. If he thought she would submit to some transference of a Han to her that did not involve her seizing control of it, he had reached the point of lunacy. “Have you discussed this with the Mother Confessor, yet, because I am certain she will have some very strong opinions on it.” Cara fully expected Kahlan to tell the Wizard to absorb the Han himself if it was absolutely necessary.
Cara was a Mord'Sith, and certainly had neither the time nor the inclination to get into the magic making business. She certainly couldn't function as a Mord'Sith, either, if some other Mord'Sith could seize control of her. If she started casting spells without meaning to do so, all manner of disasters could occur. The very thought made her skin crawl. She had been broken already, and had no intention of being on the receiving end yet again because of some hare-brained plan the Wizard concocted.
The Mother Confessor herself strode through the door, looking much better now that her shoulder had been healed. The baldric of the Sword of Truth was clearly fitted around her; it pleased Cara that the Mother Confessor had decided not to be separated from it now that she was well. Her face was still a little pale, and Cara was certain that Kahlan had not been resting or eating nearly as much as she should have been, but now that Cara had returned, she had every intention of taking care of the Mother Confessor. She was her wife, after all, and the stubborn Mother Confessor would have to at least listen to reason. That she had avoided the discussion she knew her wife had been striving to have all day long was yet another matter, but first she had to deal with this insanity the Wizard had dreamed up.
“I have strong opinions on many things, Consort. I'm pleased you have realized that it is wise to occasionally consult with me.” The way the Mother Confessor had emphasized the title clearly communicated her displeasure that the Mord'Sith had so far evaded her attempts at discussing the events of the past few days. Cara hadn't exactly been avoiding the Mother Confessor, but she had certainly made it her mission to be places where Kahlan would likely not. Blue eyes flashed at her, then went to the Wizard who looked wary that he might suddenly be witness to a spat he wanted no part of.
As always, however, Kahlan's face slipped into the serious mask of the Mother Confessor, clearly waiting for an explanation. That she stood close to the Mord'Sith, despite being clearly peeved with her was a good sign in Cara's estimation. Hopefully Kahlan could talk some sense into the crazy Wizard.
“Mother Confessor, someone besides yourself needs the power to detect a Concealment. I can think of no one I trust more to protect you than Cara, and as your Consort, she would be the last person to develop ambitions of being a rogue Gifted.” Zedd stated this all as though it was the most rational thing in the world. Kahlan's face didn't change, which rather alarmed Cara. Apparently the Mother Confessor didn't think this was nearly as bad of an idea as the Mord'Sith did.
“Can a Mord'Sith even absorb someone else's Han, Zedd? I know she can control one, why didn't you just allow the Wizard to live so that one of them could control his powers through them?” Finally, Cara thought, a rational question. It should have been asked before now, she thought, however she could immediately see a solution.
“Or we could transfer the powers to someone else and I could seize it.” She couldn't help it, her green eyes twinkled brightly at the woman beside her. The Mother Confessor was nothing if not astute and able to come up with sensible suggestions. Something like pride bloomed in the Mord'Sith that she shared something with Kahlan that no one else did, and if she had her way, never would. It was more than the slender ring that twinkled on the brunette's hand, remaining where Cara had placed it, but it pleased the blond greatly that her gift had apparently been accepted for what it was - confirmation of their union.
Zedd sighed, looking at both of them. “If it would have been that simple, Kahlan, I wouldn't have spent several hours Stripping a Wizard of his Han. It was hardly something I wanted to do.” His exasperation showed in his face, and the Mother Confessor continued looking at him. Clearly she was as lost as the Mord'Sith.
“Stripping a Wizard isn't an easy process, Mother Confessor. Do you not remember the state in which you found Wizard Garrick when the Sisters of the Dark seized him?” Zedd asked with an intensity that Cara recognized. He was going to remind the Mother Confessor of something that she herself knew nothing about, invoking the fact that the First Wizard had known the Mother Confessor before she met Cara. Kahlan's face paled slightly and she seemed to shudder, but she met Zedd's gaze boldly.
“Surely you do not think I would skin a man slowly and drain his blood for hours on end if it wasn't necessary!” For just a moment, the Mord'Sith could read both fatigue and horror in the Wizard's eyes. She knew that expression; he had seen and done things he wished that he had not. Her respect for the First Wizard went up a notch. She had always suspected the old man to have the will to do what needed to be done, even things that went against his own nature, but this example spoke clearly to her. She would have expected a Mord'Sith to be able to do such a thing. She would have never expected the Wizard to possess so much discipline.
“Then why did you?” Cara asked the question for both herself and Kahlan. If she moved a little closer to the Mother Confessor, it was she had noticed that Kahlan's face was still pale.
“Have I not taught the two of you anything?” Zedd asked. “Nothing is every easy, and there is more going on here than just Concealment. There is something occurring here that deals with the very underpinnings of Fate, and that always has unforeseen consequences.” Cara rolled her eyes, the retort that powerful magic always had unforeseen consequences sprung to her mind, particularly when it involved the Wizard she was standing before. Kahlan's hand on her arm kept her silent.
“I would not trust this to be controlled. Clearly, the power becomes fragmented the more who attempt to intercede with it.” Zedd made a frustrated sound. “No, the fewer variables we introduce this into, the better. Mother Confessor, you need another pair of eyes watching for those times when you cannot.” She certainly couldn't fault the Wizard for wanting to keep the Mother Confessor safe, but she would keep Kahlan Amnell safe by her will alone, fate be damned, if it came to it. She already had, and she would continue doing so.
“Zedd,” Cara struggled to keep her tone bored, “Don't you think giving a Wizard's Han to a Mord'Sith is exactly the type of new variable we don't want to introduce?” She was afraid the First Wizard was going to come up with exactly the sort of explanation that would end with her wearing a dress or some other nightmare. “Is it wise to grant one who can control a Wizard's Han direct influence over one herself?”
Green eyes darted between the Mother Confessor and the First Wizard. “You are the one that is always going on about how powers check themselves, with Mord'Sith balancing Wizards, the Wizards balancing Confessors, and Confessors balancing Mord'Sith.” She pointed this out, not liking the nod that passed between the Mother Confessor and Wizard. Both sent her looks were approving. She wanted to petulantly remind them both that she did indeed listen, but this was a time for logic. “If a Mord'Sith takes the power of a Wizard, it will disrupt the balance.” If her voice was harsher than necessary, it at least drove the point home to the two people looking thoughtful.
“You have already done something that no Mord'Sith has ever done, Cara Mason. You have been Confessed, Mord'Sith that you are, you are not checked.” The Wizard showed his teeth, and Cara could barely focus on anything but the small bits of dinner between them. It was all she wanted to focus upon. Zedd was picking up speed. “The Mother Confessor now has the power of the Seeker, and controls Mord'Sith and Wizards.” A blond head swiveled to glance at the face of the woman she had managed to somehow marry. She was the Lady Rahl, but that would never bind her as tightly as the ring that still twinkled on her finger, nor the kiss Kahlan had bestowed upon Cara's parched soul.
“Cara, the fact that you don't want this is exactly why you should be the one to take it.” He stated this as though it was perfectly obvious. “You have a strong enough will that you can control Gifted, and you already know the dangers inherent in the use of magic.
“Such as this one!” Cara retorted what was obvious to her mind. Magic that altered Fate itself sounded anything but safe, and the Mord'Sith didn't want anything to do with it. She vehemently said so again.
“I'll take the Han, Zedd.” Kahlan's voice was quiet, but determined, as she always became when ready to accept another responsibility. “Cara can carry the Sword of Truth.” She looked deeply into the Wizard's grey eyes, and then flickered to Cara's green ones. Kahlan stood as beautiful as always, tall, proud and with blue eyes that pierced the Mord'Sith's very soul. Resolve flickered across her aristocratic features, and settled into the confident serenity of the Mother Confessor.
Cara felt her heart sink. She couldn't part Kahlan from the Sword of Truth; there was no other weapon besides the Mord'Sith herself that could keep the Mother Confessor as safe as the magic inherent in the blade. More importantly, she could never allow Kahlan to do something dangerous that the Mord'Sith herself was not willing to do. “No, Kahlan.” She said it evenly, as though she was not quaking inside at the thought of doing so. “I will take the Wizard's Han if it will protect the Lady Rahl.” Her green eyes flickered to blue ones again. There was no surprise registering there, only concern and something like sadness. She cleared her throat in clarification, wanting to reinforce something only her Mate could invoke in her. “My wife, Kahlan Amnell, and her safety is my only priority.” She emphasized both.
If Kahlan took her gloved hand in her own, and the Wizard got a fond expression on his craggy face, Cara ignored both. She was drowning in glacial ponds of blue, and the sensations the small nod from the woman beside her created. In a rush of fortitude, Cara silently swore to herself. She made a vow to the woman who held her hand and her heart that she would do everything, even confront this, if it was required of her. The chaste kiss placed on her cheek would have made her scowl at any other time, as would the watching Wizard clearing his throat. This time, it just made something akin to pride surge in her heart, and a sense of rightness.
She turned her head and glared at the willowy old man. “Alright, Wizard. I will be the vessel for this power. Do what you must, so we can be done with this.” Zedd pulled the Quillion from his robes, and then started to explain. Cara didn't exactly pale, because she was gripping an Agiel at his explanation. Even Kahlan's palm at her back didn't fully set her at ease, but the warmth of it was a reminder. She stared at them both and the Quillion with trepidation. One more glance at the blue eyes, though, and the pale hand on her arm strengthened her.
Cara felt strength ebb and flow into her, and the only feeling she could hold on to was the Mother Confessor's pale, strong hand in hers. As the feeling took her, it reminded her of all the desire Kahlan's lips had ever spread like liquid fire in her heart. If it was disconcerting that time and fate itself had taken up residence in her bones, it was only because it was already there. The only grip she truly felt was the pale hand and the blue eyes she peered into.
* * *
If Zedd was worried about leaving the Han to Cara, he was at least relieved that the tall Mord'Sith that helped him, Berdine, assured him she would be able to assist the Lady Rahl's Consort, a term that still made his eyes widen a little. Zedd suspected that the auburn-haired Mord'Sith used that term intentionally; she seemed to get a great amount of joy from needling people. His main concern was what he would learn from visiting Shota.
The Witch-woman was the most powerful Gifted in the Midlands besides himself, perhaps even more so, though her methods differed greatly from his. If someone was twisting the Fabric of Fate, the Witch-woman would know about it long before anyone else. She might stay in her sanctuary of Agaden Reach, but her power to read events as they occurred or even would occur in the world was vast. Even Zedd was unclear on just how far that ability went, though he suspected she was purposefully vague as Witch-women were want to be.
Thoughts jumbling through his mind, Zedd sat at a table at the mess tent, eating a hearty breakfast before leaving. Just as he was buttering a second biscuit and munching on the remains of the first rasher of bacon, a dark-haired woman in a riding dress of dusky pink approached his table. She looked familiar to the Wizard, but his eye was inexorably drawn the generous amount of cleavage displayed above her divided skirts and dark boots. He might be old, but the First Wizard was very much still a man.
“Wizard, good morning.” Before Zedd could even back his chair away from the table, the dark-haired woman had pulled one out and sat down. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and she reached for the basket of biscuits on the table and began buttering one herself. The First Wizard was still rather flustered by the view he had gotten as she leaned down to sit, but when she began eating part of his breakfast, he found his voice.
“Excuse me, Lady, do I know you?” He inquired. The darkly tanned face spread into a grin, and she casually moved the coat of her riding clothes aside so that he could see an Agiel hidden among the divided skirts. Her smile widened at his recognition and roll of his eyes. “As you can see, Wizard, I'm no Lady.” She leaned in as though to say it conspiratorially, once again providing a distracting sight. Now that Zedd knew what she was, it wasn't nearly so appealing to him.
She calmly began eating her biscuit, which encouraged Zedd to continue eating his. There really was no need for the food to get cold just because a strange Mord'Sith had arrived at his table. “My name is Mistress Rikka, but of course, for the purpose of our journey, you may call me Rikka.” She popped the remains of the biscuit into her mouth, and promptly reached for another, then gestured for the dish of eggs that sat by Zedd's elbow while signaling with a hand to a serving maid that was carting out plates of food and drinks.
“Our journey?” He asked incredulously. “I assure you, um Rikka was it?” At her sharp nod he continued. Where ever you may be going, I will be traveling elsewhere.” He was rather shocked at how much food the young woman was putting away, but obligingly handed her the plate of eggs; they were rather delicious. She rather rivaled himself in that department, and while it was always nice to dine with someone who appreciated a good meal, she was still Mord'Sith. No matter how she was dressed, there was one reason, and one reason alone that a woman carried an Agiel at her side.
At just that moment, a familiar figure with blond hair wearing blood red leather strutted up to their table. Zedd knew the Mord'Sith, Consort of the Lady Rahl, was anything but pleased about the Gift he had bestowed upon her. Glancing at the woman in the dark pink riding attire, who was busily eating from everything on the table, he sensed her doing. It would be just like Cara to exact her revenge by sending him along with a Mord'Sith. She was no doubt still unhappy at having to consume the noxious glowing fluid in the Quillion. He himself had never tasted it, but was told it tasted like rancid bacon drippings and the wash water used to boil socks. He likely never should have asked her if she required honey to get it all down.
“Rikka, I'm pleased you managed to join the First Wizard before he left.” Her voice was plain in tone, and her expression raked over the both of them. “Not that I had any doubts that you would have left yet, or where to find the two of you.” Cara's voice was laced disapproval, as she eyed them both by turns. Her green eyes still snapped, and while she was polite, it almost seemed forced. The fact that she knew Rikka had the same propensity for dining as the Wizard, however, made Zedd hopeful that perhaps she had forgiven him for burdening her. She had insisted, eventually, after all.
“The Mother Confessor,” she intoned the words while glancing at Zedd, “Lady Rahl,” she added for Rikka's benefit. She paused waiting for them to acknowledge what she had said. “The Mother Confessor ordered Mord'Sith to accompany you for your protection, First Wizard Zeddicus.” Zedd sighed; when Cara used his full title, that meant it was a formal order from the Mother Confessor. That also meant a Mord'Sith was coming with him whether he liked it or not. Cara smirked, “She is a good cook Wizard. You won't starve on the way.” Rikka shot the blond Mord'Sith a glare; cooking for some Wizard wasn't exactly high on her list of things to do.
That news brought a smile to Zedd's face, and he once again dug into his plate. Perhaps he could handle having a Mord'Sith along, after all. With a curt nod to them both, Cara sauntered away. Rikka continued glaring at the departing figure, but accepted another rasher of bacon from the serving cart. Noting that her charge had finished his, she rolled her eyes and put the plate of bacon down between them. His grey eyes twinkled and he politely only took three pieces, leaving her another three. She merely poured a large mug of milk from the pitcher and nodded appreciatively at the eggs. Surprisingly, it occurred to Zedd that traveling with a Mord'Sith wouldn't be so bad, after all. Even Cara had her moments, and additionally, this Rikka knew how to eat.
Replete with breakfast, Rikka and Zedd amicably discussed their journey and the destination. While there was a sense of urgency to the mission, Rikka mentioned a little Inn just north of the area they were riding through that Zedd had also visited. For a Mord'Sith, Zedd thought, Rikka truly was a fine traveling companion. He found himself looking forward to it. Just as they reached their horses and were about to mount up, a third horse road up carrying a middle-aged woman. Rikka sighed beside Zedd, and climbed into the saddle gracefully with a grimace on her face.
This woman was also wearing a riding dress, but it was of a very severe cut and a color just darker than what he assumed was the normal color of the leather she wore. She moved her coat aside to unnecessarily flash two Agiels, and cocked an eyebrow at Zedd. “Well, Wizard are you planning to ride that horse or just lead it? Half the day is gone already.” Her voice was coarse and Zedd imagined that Cara at her absolute worst could teach this woman about social niceties.
“And just who are you? I already have a Mord'Sith coming along to protect me, as though a Wizard of the First Order actually needed one.” He scoffed at the middle aged woman, but he still climbed onto his horse under her stern eye. She scowled at him for apparently noting that they were both Mord'Sith, as though anyone in a D'Haran camp wouldn't recognize both of them for what they were.
The blond-haired Mord'Sith gave both of them a measuring glance, her gaze running over both horses as though inspecting their travel preparations. Zedd became immediately irritated; he had been traveling before this woman was born, and opened his mouth to say so. She cut him off with a reply. “I'm Mistress Nyda. You can call me Nyda. Rikka is here to protect you, Wizard. I'm here to protect both of you by keeping you out of trouble.” With that, Rikka and Zedd shot each other offended glances, but the blond Mord'Sith was already starting to ride away.
Zedd had half a dozen things he wanted to say, and even considered using his magic to teleport a few miles away. He suspected that no matter what he did or said, however, this Nyda was going to find him. Rikka just shrugged unhappily at him and followed Nyda. Zedd decided that, if for no other reason, at least he would follow along with the person that knew how to cook. Nothing was ever easy.
* * *
Cara had left the mess tent after confirming that Nyda would be going with the Wizard and Rikka. It wasn't that she didn't trust them, or at least that wasn't the only reason. If left to their own devices, the two would likely stop at every inn, farmhouse and tavern on the way to Agaden Reach, if they ever got there at all. She had managed to awaken before Kahlan, and had once again dressed hurriedly. She really did have several things to do, as did the Mother Confessor. If they both were too busy and needed to put their conversation off for a few days, then it was just as well.
She had nearly reached the stables when Berdine appeared. The Mord'Sith was ever impeccable in the brown leather she preferred, but today she was dressed in the blood-red that Cara usually favored. If there was a sparkle in Berdine's blue eyes, there usually was. Cara turned with her hand on an Agiel at her hip, saying nothing, just indicating for Berdine to speak.
“The Lady Rahl needs to question someone, Cara, and she specifically requested your presence.” Berdine said succinctly. The blond Mord'Sith was intrigued; she could only imagine what had happened between the time she had left their tent to the time she had spent preparing Zedd and his “protection”. Nodding, she followed Berdine. The auburn-haired Mord'Sith didn't indicate that she knew who or what the questioning was about. Cara was about to probe her further when Berdine stopped by the tent she and the Mother Confessor shared. Puzzled, Cara entered as Berdine withdrew back outside.
Inside the tent sat a table with a generous looking breakfast, and Kahlan wearing her traveling leathers. She smiled at the Mord'Sith, and gestured for her to take a seat. There was only one other at the table. “Berdine said you had someone you need to question and that you requested my presence.” Cara paused with her gloved hands on the back of the chair.
The Mother Confessor looked inordinately pleased with herself, which never was a good sign. While she knew very little about being wed, she was aware from experience that when Kahlan got that look in her eyes, Cara was in for a conversation she likely didn't want to have. Blue eyes sparkled at her, and Kahlan smoothly replied, “Indeed I do need to question someone, and since it is you, your presence is required.” The Mother Confessor then rose gracefully from her chair and seized the Mord'Sith by the back of her blond head and planted a searing kiss on her mouth that left them both gasping.
Cara's hand immediately slid down Kahlan's slim waist, pulling her tightly against her, while the other stroked down to caress the delicious amount of thigh showing above the Mother Confessor's high boots. Breakfast was immediately forgotten when she felt the warm hand on her breast, fondling it through the leather. Her gloved hands snaked higher, gripping Kahlan's firm thigh right below her behind, and yanked it over her hip. While this was not the conversation she was expecting to have, she had been burning to touch the Mother Confessor. Even through her gloves she could feel the heat radiating from between her lover's legs, through the little breeches she wore. When Cara slid a gloved finger up the side of them, to tease Kahlan's cleft, she moaned at the slickness she felt there.
Kahlan leaned back in her embrace, and Cara lifted her other thigh onto her hips. Somehow she managed to maneuver them both the the cot without knocking over the table, breakfast and all. What mattered right then was the hot, slick tongue that was consuming her mouth, and the hands that wandered her body, gripping her tightly in just the right places. Hurriedly she brought her gloved hand to her mouth, tasting the wetness the Confessor had left on the fingertip, and she pulled it away with her teeth. Kahlan pulled off the other one in the meanwhile, and worked at the laces near Cara's throat. The Mord'Sith seized her lovers lips in another soul-burning kiss while her hand resumed it's path of the glorious expanse of thigh. It had been far too long, and far too little with Kahlan.
When her hand stroked the liquid arousal of the Mother Confessor's center and heard a sharp moan of pleasure she realized it would never be enough with her. She barely got the small breeches down to the tops of the high boots before her fingers were trailing through the wetness, this time with more force. Kahlan had maneuvered a thigh between her own, and it was setting her on fire. She never intended to take the Mother Confessor so urgently, but it appeared that she was not the only one in dire need.
The pressure of Kahlan's thigh rubbing against the leather was creating just enough friction. She ground her hips down, still kissing the woman that lay beneath her, fingers moving in time with her grinding hips. Kahlan moaned forcefully against her mouth when she let a bare fingertip slide down to stroke her opening, and Cara took it as an invitation. Slipping inside the incredibly tight passage, and making circles against Kahlan's clit, she felt the pressure of the thigh between her legs increase.
When she slid a second finger into Kahlan, and watched color bloom even stronger into her lover's cheeks, the harsh breath, and harsh strokes of her own hips caught up with her. Wetness flooded her fingers, and thunder without sound exploded in a whirlwind of dust and falling objects, just as tremors of pleasure shook Cara's own body. Kissing the lips of the Mother Confessor, as they both exploded into orgasm, Cara felt something within her shake with intensity. It was Kahlan Amnell that had turned her soul into a garden, and something more than a barren ash into a heart.
Laying her forehead against her wife's neck, feeling damp raven hair caress her cheek, Cara whispered things that she never would have imagined would dare cross her lips. Small kisses with her lips, designed to convey emotions she thought she would never have danced on the Mother Confessor's skin. Guilt riddled her soul; it was time to discuss her feelings with the Mother Confessor, and their marriage. Cara wasn't concerned in the slightest with her actions against Tamarang, nor the defense of Renwold. She wouldn't have done the slightest thing differently, except perhaps having her Herald drag Milena out in the yard for protection, but she could hardly be faulted for not foreseeing that consequence.
Warm blue eyes greeted the kisses on her cheek, and lips returned them. “I like the ring.” A dark-haired head ducked down amid the kisses to glance at it upon her outstretched hand. At that moment, Cara nearly forgave Berdine everything for obtaining it for her. It then crossed her mind that Raina was probably responsible, but the dark-haired beauty beneath her lips shifted, and she heard the opening of a box. Kahlan moved to look at her, blue eyes wide open, dark hair spread across the pillow. Her eyes flickered down to see a platinum band similar to the one she had given the Mother Confessor, but set with a flush ruby slide upon her naked finger. As the ring encompassed the flesh of the Mord'Sith's finger, there truly was no more to say in Cara's mind.
“I wanted you to have this, and to know, I accept your offer, Consort.” Kahlan was teasing. It was altogether unexpected of a reaction from the Lady Rahl and Mother Confessor of the Midlands. She met blue eyes with a question in her own, but rich laughter was all that met her look. “I realized that after taking the magic, you really couldn't do anything more to answer my questions about whether you loved me. I know you do, and I love you, Cara. There is no one else I'd rather spend my life with.” To Cara's delight, apparently there was little else to say in Kahlan's either.
A nip at her neck inflamed her again, but an insistent grip on her shoulder stopped her own from ravishing their prey. “We will talk later, Cara, that is a promise.” The blue eyes burned into hers, and she felt the urge to roll her eyes. A hand was stroking her between her thighs, and it was all she could do to remain coherent. “I have a question, Mord'Sith.” The Mother Confessor emphasized it with a squeeze of her awakened sex, gripping tightly in a way that made the Mord'Sith want to gyrate her hips. At that moment, she would have given anything, told any truth.
“What is it, Kahlan?” Her own voice sounded entirely too breath, but blood was pounding in her ears, and the firms strokes applied just where she wanted them was making her lose her concentration. Burying her nose in the pile of hair that cascaded down the Mother Confessor's breasts, she attempted to regain control. Firm hands lifted the Mord'Sith's chin, then teeth sank into her neck in a delicious biting pain that set her body on fire. “Can you do that again?” Opening her eyes for one second, she caught a hot expression that set her own blood aflame. They were both wearing entirely too many clothes.
She kissed Kahlan with a storm of tongues. The Confessor squirming beneath her spoke of promises they would both keep, and promises that would be impossible to break. If a glint of magic briefly flared in the ruby the Mord'Sith wore on her hand as her own desire got hot again, neither woman noticed.
Berdine and Raina were knocked off of their feet in an explosion of dust, and resolved that the Lady Rahl would be getting a bigger tent.
* * *
A/N.2 - Sometimes I forget that not everyone is from the US, and I am definitely from the South. The biscuits I refer to over the breakfast are the fluffy, Southern kind, not the crunchy cookie kind everyone else in the world is familiar with - these are the kind that go with white gravy. I don't eat breakfast, personally, but biscuits and gravy are synonymous with a Southern breakfast. I imagine that they are a part of a D'Haran breakfast, too. Hey, at least I didn't make them eat grits!