The Secrets of Darken Rahl's Journey Book
Who knows what lurks in the heart of the most monstrous man who ever lived?
I've pondered over this for so many weeks - cooped up here in this dismal Mord'Sith temple, tended to by three very dim-witted Sisters of the Agiel who don't seem to realize how lucky they are that I didn't sent them along with Garen to help my intrepid brother defeat the Keeper. I needed somebody to stay behind to tend my burns.
I've never confided in anyone, except, on occasion, Egremont, but even he is gone now. There's nobody left.
I'm bored, stuck in an inferior body without magic, and with no immediate prospects of regaining any (how these incompetent women let Nicci escape is beyond me - hopefully she still has that Rada'Han clamped around her neck), and I'm tired of waiting to see what Richard intends to do about ruling this empire about which he knows nothing.
I'm tired of waiting to see what our merry band of heroes decide to do about me. Hunt me down - it won't be hard. Kill me - few, if any, would stand in their way. Put me on trial for my crimes - again, there would be no resistance.
But I need to do something to pass the endless time.
So I might as well confide in in the only way I've sent messages in the past.
Only this time, it will be a different type of message..
Dear Journey Book:
After so many years of using you soley as a method of sending imperial directives throughout what used to be my vast empire, I'm going to jot down a few of my own thoughts and memories while there is still time. Because if the First Wizard and the Mother Confessor have their way, who knows how long I'll be around.
I don't want the only historical description of me to be those that Zeddicus Zorander spoke to my brother about the tyrant Darken Rahl - "if he is a man and not some twisted race of evil brought forth from the Underworld to shatter the dreams of Humankind."
Zeddicus always did have a flare for melodrama.
But he knows exactly how I was brought forth, and it was not directly from the Underworld.
I'm sure Zeddicus doesn't know that Father revealed the secret of my conception. He probably assumed that Father would always keep it a secret, fearing that it would reflect on Lord Rahl's masculinity to reveal that he wasn't able to sire a child. But any insecurity was as nothing compared to the fact that my father came to see my conception as the earliest indication that I was unatural.
I wonder now what made Father think that replacing me would erase that taint. I wonder if he believed that the First Wizard's magical intervention only influenced my birth, yet had nothing to do with the conception of Richard and Jennsen.
This is me.
Hard to believe isn't it. I don't have horns sprouting from my head or smoke coming out of my ears. I must have been only a few days old because those are the arms of my father holding me - the great, the glorious, the treacherous and hypocritical Panis Rahl.
They look so benign, don't they - all three faces of my esteemed father. The handsome young king, the kindly old scholar, the gentle-faced monk. You would never think that a man who looked so benevolent would ever scorn and belittle his oldest son and heir, would you? But he made my life a living hell from my earliest days. After a few years of his tutelage, I grew to hate him, as he had long hated me. And I killed him without regret - although ironically, he lived on, while I went to the Underworld.
I was never good enough for Father. Not strong enough, smart enough, while at the same time he grew to fear the prophecy that haunted my birth. The prophecy he came to believe, not wanting to admit that it was his own pride and guilt that brought about disaster.
But now I have to tell you about this prophecy.
More than a thousand years ago, a great prophet claimed that one day a Seeker of Truth would be born, whose destiny would be to destroy the greatest evil the world had ever known. But at the time, this evil he spoke of didn't have a name. It was all very vague - as prophecies so often are.
Until this woman came along, and gave that evil a name - Mine.
Shota, the Witch Woman, who I hate as much as I ever hated Father, proclaimed at my birth that I would bring such suffering into the world that I couldn't be allowed to live. It was Shota who set everything in motion.
Her visions had revealed my future monstrosity to her. Visions, I might add, that had been far from infallable in the past.
But Shota managed to convince Corraticus Zorander that she was right. I had to be destroyed, and as soon as possible.
Corraticus - the father of the great and esteemed Zeddicus Zorander.
Corraticus, who I also hate, even in death. How could you expect me not to hate the person who sent a plague to kill me when I was only a few weeks old. As the life drained out of me, Father, in his arrogance and bitterness, refused to call on Zeddicus for help.
My old nursemaid told me that she never forgot Father's words to her during my illness. "let him die," Father had ordered, ignoring her protests. His wish was granted. I did die from the illness, and thus had the dubious honor of being touched by the Keeper for the first time. Father had me revived by the Breath of Life, of couse, but the damage had already been done. The erosion of my spirit had begun.
Now we come to Zeddicus Zorander, Wizard of the First Order, and the man I hate, and grieve over, above all others. In so many ways, I hold him more responsible for everything that has happened than even Father, or Richard, for that matter.
After all, Richard, like myself, was a pawn of prophecy.
Without Zeddicus, I would never have drawn breath. He stood as Godfather at my birth, promising to help raise me and teach me the ways of magic.
Zeddicus - the man who, after all his devoted words, abandoned me to my father. Deserting me, not because of anything I had done, but because Panis murdered his father. Father, unwilling, as always, to take responsibility, for his own actions, blamed me for the loss of his friend.
I have been told that before my father murdered his, Zeddicus had argued for my life. He had disputed the prophecy of my inevitable evil. But his father's death changed everything, and during the fourteen years between my infancy and Richard's birth, Zeddicus turned from being my would-be protector and teacher to my implacable enemy.
To this day I've never been able to understand how Zeddicus could have grown to hate a boy he never knew? Did he somehow hold me responsible for his father's death?
Sometimes, as a young boy, I would lie awake at night wondering what I had done to make Zeddicus leave, certain that it must have been something terrible. Whenever I asked if Zeddicus was ever coming back, Father refused to answer. Soon enough I learned that he would never return - at least not as a friend.
As the years passed, I did give Zeddicus ample reasons to hate me. I tried to murder his grandson, I killed hundreds of children at Brennidon. My crimes are many. But at the time, I was just a small child, and if Zeddicus had kept his promise and helped me, had protected me from Father, had guided me, my life and so many others would have been so much different.
I once needed Zeddicus, and I think I would have loved him if he had only stayed. Now we can only gaze at each other with mutual loathing, I'll never forget his mocking grin of triumph in Tamarang when he prevented me from gaining the third Box of Orden.
But something sharp still twists deep inside whenever I think of what might have been.
Before meeting me in the Underworld, Panis Rahl, after years in concealment, ventured forth to find his adored younger son. He was able to tell Richard how proud he was of his boy, how much he loved him, and how ashamed he was of me. There was forgiveness all around that evening, as the First Wizard forgave Father for the murder of Carracticus, as well as the repeated seduction and desertion of Taralynn.
Then both men be-moaned the fact that I had ever been born.
Some things never change.
Father never mentioned Jennsen. But perhaps she was better off being ignored by a man who was always so careless of every life he touched.
Watching this touching reunion from the Underworld, I was surprised at how much power Zeddicus still had to hurt me.
Richard! Where to begin with Richard? Of course I hated him. Father had bragged for years before Richard's birth about how he would sire a son who would destroy me. I saw infant Richard in my dreams every night, and swore I would do everything in my power to kill him.
I resented the constant memories of being told that Richard would be everything I wasn't, that he would gain everything that was rightfully mine, and I was not about to let that happen. In my frantic attempts to protect myself from the prophecy, I did things I regret deeply now, but which cannot be undone. I did what I felt I had to do.
The first time I actually met my brother, he was not at all as I had imagined him. Yes - he was handsome, strong, determined, charismatic - but then, so was I. There was also a great deal of darkness in him - I could sense that, even if others couldn't. He was a true Rahl. I had anticipated this confrontation for so long. I gloated in my victory over this supposedly unconquerable foe.
But I felt something more. A Confessed Seeker was suddenly more appealing than a dead one. People loved Richard. They followed him out of hope, not fear. He carried the Sword of Truth. If Richard were Confessed, he would love me, as would everybody else; while I, finally free of fear of death at his hands, could finally rest.
Then there was the fierce love that I saw between Richard and Kahlan. I taunted them about my immunity to Confession, but how I envied them, and how I despised myself for that envy, that need, that weakness. I wanted that love for myself, and I wanted it from both of them.
But I'm writing here about hate, not love, so that will have to wait until later. It's just that the effort of separating the two is growing more difficult for me.
So many of my loves, obsessions, or whatever you wish to call them, have turned to hate and bitterness.
Denna - my beautiful, ferocious lioness - cunning and ambitious. Too ambitious by far. I broke her myself and molded her to my will, but it seems that she still kept many secrets of her own.
Denna the Traitor, who, using my own sister, instigated my defeat by taking Orden from me.
Orden - my only protection.
Apart from Egremont, Cara, and my distant, never seen sister, Orden was the only thing I really loved.
If I ever encounter Denna again, I will break her neck without a second thought.
But Cara, too, turned on me, for reasons I will never understand, and brought about my death in West Granthia. My Cara sent me to the Underworld. But even worse - she now serves Richard.
Like all the others, she chose to love him, not me.
I hated Cara, the Traitor, during the months I spent in the Underworld. I swore I would kill her if I had the chance.
Once I was back in the world of the living, and in her presence again, I taunted her relentlessly about how she had betrayed her sisters, how she was no true Mord'Sith. I sneered at her shorn locks and loss of status.
What I never told her was how beautiful she was with her loose hair, her brief happy grins, and reluctant laughter. I admired the new freedom in her step. I could never have brought myself to say any of these things, and she would have agieled me if I had tried.
When I left RIchard and Zeddicus after Renn gleaned my thoughts, I vaguely remember hatching an ingenious plot to send somebody back to kidnap Cara, and bring her back to me. I would MAKE her love me again. But the thoughts seem very hazy to me now, as if somebody tried to wipe them out of existence. I haven't seen Cara since she and Kahlan left to find the Forest of the Nightwisps.
Cara no longer serves me, nor cares about me. She would kill me if I ever tried to harm Richard. I don't know why that should still sting so much. She was only a Mord'Sith - nothing more.
But I can't lie to you, journey book, because in you I'm trying to finally understand myself. Cara was, and still is, so much more to me. She and I understand each other. I can appreciate her in ways that none of the others ever can. I miss her every day - not the way she was when she served me, but the way she was on the quest.
Her own person.
I still want Cara back, but only by her free choice, and I know that will never happen.
If, as they say, obsession is the dark side of love, then Kahlan Amnell is my obsession. She's exquisite, brave, dedicated, intelligent, loyal, and determined. She has a ringing, joyous laugh that reminds me of my mother's - if such distant memories can ever be trusted.
And - she loves Richard, heart and soul. I can't deny it, even if I've never felt that emotion. Every time they look at each other, it's as if the world around them fades into nothingness.
.
I want her. She would be such a challenge. It would be such sweet revenge to take the woman Richard loves. But even if I could, which in my present state I can't, it would be an empty victory.
Because she will never look at me like she looks at Richard.
So I can only fantasize about her, and be grateful that Richard can't see into my mind.
I'm rambling, journey book, but I guess that's the way it is when you try to sort out your thoughts, and figure out who you've been and are, and what lies in the future - if I have a future.
There is, or at least was, more than hate in my world. There have been moments, few and far between, of gentleness.
I loved my mother, although all I can remember of her is a voice, a laugh, a scent of perfume. I think she loved me.
I loved Egremont as I would have loved Father if he had given me love in return, as I would have loved Zeddicus if he hadn't abandoned me.
Egremont was the one person who always told me the truth, who saved my life at Ravensburg, who was always steadfast, even after my death. Egremont was the man who should have been my father. He was, in all but name. When I was a boy, I used to pretend he was a Rahl, and my father, and that I was part of his large, loving boisterous family.
Now I've lost him. He died protecting me, and I didn't even have a chance to bury his ashes.
I almost, once, had a chance at family love, but even that was poisoned by deception and lies.
Jennsen, my half-sister, was so gentle with me when I had her brought to the Mord'Sith temple. I was furious with her when they carried her in. After all, it was she who walked into the palace and stole my Boxes of Orden. But Denna had manipulated her into it, putting Jennsen at great risk. I couldn't blame her after learning about what Denna had done to her mother.
I had kept my eye on Jennsen for years, protecting both she and her mother. Perhaps I should have taken her in when she was still a child, and brought her up as my sister. With her, I could have had a family. But she was a potential threat, and I couldn't take the risk.
When she was brought to me, she had lost her memory. But she knew where all three Boxes were, and I had to get the information out of her - by any means possible.
I didn't torture her, I used more insidious means. I managed to convince her, at least for a time, that I was her loving heroic brother, and that Richard was the evil one who wanted to hurt us both. In telling her my tale of woe, I almost convinced myself, and let slip some truths I had never intended to reveal.
She kissed me on the cheek. She touched me willingly, with affection. She cried for me. It was the first time anybody has ever shed a tear on my behalf.
But when she went back to Richard at my bidding, he managed, in his Richard-way, to convince her of the truth. Now Jennsen hates and distrusts me - with just cause.
Which brings us back to Richard, journey book. Just like everything circles back to Richard. He is always the focal point. I used to resent that, but now I'm not sure what to think, or feel.
When I coerced Richard into bringing me back to the world of the living, and when I forced myself on the Merry Band in order to try to save myself from the Keeper, I had no further intentions other than to do whatever was necessary to get into the Creator's good graces. Just once, I wanted to feel the warmth of her light on my face. I didn't really care about the rest of the world. To be honest, I still don't.
I haven't changed that much.
But in joining Richard, I experienced something I never expected to find with my worst enemy - comradeship.
This was the man destined to wipe me off the face of the earth, the man I had marked for the Keeper. This was the person who had supplanted me in my father's love years before he was even born.
We argued at first. Richard was not happy to be in my company.
But we had both suffered by my father's actions, and we had both suffered at the each other's hands. For the first time we talked as one man to another, as brothers, and if there was deceit in my words, there was also truth.
I hungered for companionship, for a friend, for a family.
We fought at each other's side. He save my life more than once from the Sisters of the Dark, and I saved his. I told him things I had never revealed to a living soul, and he listened, and didn't turn away from me in disgust.
When I was dying, I had resigned myself to returning to the Keeper. I knew that Richard's major concern was that I not reveal the contents of the scroll to my old Master. I feared the same. I didn't want to betray Richard to the Keeper, but I knew the torments that would be inflicted on me. I knew I could not withstand them, and my weakness shamed me.
But by that time, I don't think that was the only reason Richard wanted me to stay alive.
Because Richard isn't about giving up. He's about fighting the odds, no matter how impossible. I don't say that lightly. It's a quality I admire - even in an enemy.
Richard is about hanging on when things look the most bleak.
And so he made me hang on.
I don't know what made me walk away after Richard saved my life once again. Maybe part of it was my humiliation at being read so easily by Renn. Maybe it was the indignity of being made a prisoner again after everything we'd been through.
But I think the real reason I walked away was that too many barriers had fallen down, and I am a man who needs barriers. I gave too much of myself away that day, and letting people see who you really are is a weakness in my world. It only gives them an opening to attack.
So - I opened a rift between my brother and myself, and left him behind to fight the battle alone, instead of staying and helping Richard in his final battle.
I'm relieved that they won and the veil is sealed, and not only for myself. I'm glad my brother is still alive, for reasons I'm only beginning to understand.
Because Richard is not only the Seeker of Truth, but, for me, he is the key.
The key to opening the door to a different life, without constant fear and distrust.
The key to softening Cara's eyes when she looks at me.
The key to having a family.
The key to finally healing the hurt and betrayal I have always felt over Zeddicus leaving me. A pain I am sure he is not even aware of.
The key to regaining my sisters trust, and maybe, if I'm lucky, even her love.
Richard is the key to the path I must take if I am ever to learn how to love myself.
So, jouney book, I've now told my side of the story, and if I don't survive, if I am put to death for my crimes, thus paving the way to a new reign with a new Lord Rahl, maybe one day my brother will pick you up and read what I have written.
If there's anyone on the face of the earth who will understand, it's Richard.