I Will Not Surrender - Part III. The Gathering Storm (3/11)
Title: I Will Not Surrender - Part III. The Gathering Storm (3/11)
Author: burning_arrow
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: R/NC-17 (varies by chapter and I’m not going to rate each one)
Warnings: major character death (but fear not for our heroines)
Disclaimer: Obviously I don’t own these characters. If I did, don’t you think things would have gone a bit differently? My muse thanks Terry Goodkind and ABC for giving her such good fodder though.
Word Count: 6,232
Summary: Takes place several years after Tears. Kahlan rules over D’Hara and the Midlands, with Cara at her side, but behind the tentative peace lies a new threat. Part III.: Cara struggles to find clues about the threats to Aydindril, while also trying to come to terms with some of her feelings about Kahlan.
A/N: I’ve only read the first two books completely and skimmed a few of the others, so I am probably taking liberties with the layout of Aydindril. I have no idea if the city and its walls were described in any detail in the books, and therefore whether I’m botching it up - sorry.
A/N2: This is mostly grounded in the LOTS TV series canon, but borrows occasionally from the books where convenient. It also involves major characters of my own invention. If you don’t like this kind of mix and match please don’t read.
Part III. The Gathering Storm
The sky changed from orange to red, then red to purple, and finally purple to navy blue as twilight crept across Aydindril. At last, spring had begun to creep into the north lands, and the smell of new grass and wildflowers was carried by the wind coming from the plains. Kahlan walked through the back passages of the Palace, trying to relax her stiff body and restless mind. She had dismissed the last of her advisors after a particularly grueling afternoon of treaty negotiations. Always at the back of her mind was the hidden threat of the mysterious rebellion. Almost a month had passed since Zedd’s return, but Cara would just shake her head each time Kahlan asked if information had been discovered about the identity of the rebels, their whereabouts, anything at all. Zedd’s search into the power of the Stones of Surrender was proving equally as futile. Without anything substantial to act upon Kahlan could do nothing but continue to rule Aydindril as she had before.
After ending the afternoon’s taxing session of political deal-making, Kahlan had gone in search of her lover. A smile came unbidden to her lips as she rolled the word over in her mind. Lover. She still wondered at the twists of fate that had turned a woman she should have hated into a lover.
***
Richard had started it four years ago, insisting that Kahlan give Cara a chance to prove her worth as a ‘reformed’ Mord’Sith. He was raised in Westland, and didn’t fully understand the enmity between Confessors and the Mord’Sith. Mord’Sith were more than the living instruments of pain and torture used by the Rahl bloodline - they were also the weapons with which the Rahls hunted the Confessors nearly to extinction. Kahlan despised them. However, for reasons that she hadn’t fully understood herself, Kahlan had acquiesced to Richard’s request. Kahlan’s wary caution towards Cara had reluctantly transformed into begrudging respect, which eventually melted into warm affection and powerful trust. Through a year of searching for the Stone of Tears and another two years of Richard and Kahlan’s rule, Cara and Kahlan’s bond had remained much the same, comfortable and safe. During those years Kahlan would occasionally notice an inscrutable expression on Cara’s face as she looked at her, but all Mord’Sith were unreadable to a Confessor, and Kahlan gave it little thought. Besides, Cara was in Aydindril even less than Richard. Often, when Richard would return from a season at the People’s Palace, Cara would stay behind to oversee the implementation of his edicts. Kahlan missed the Mord’Sith, as she would any member of her family, but the Mother Confessor understood duty better than anyone and so she did not dwell on Cara’s absence.
Then Cara had come home, Richard’s body hung over the back of her horse and the Sword of Truth in her hand. Kahlan’s world had come apart at the seams. As Cara had announced Richard’s fall, Kahlan had felt her insides twist in agony. Her greatest fear finally had been realized. Richard was gone and every bone in her body ached instantly with the loss. Through a haze of pain, Kahlan had seen that the Mord’Sith expected to be confessed, yet still Cara had returned to Aydindril to face the Mother Confessor, unconcerned for her own fate. How little the Mord’Sith must have thought of herself to anticipate such treatment. How loyal she had been to Richard to be willing to lay down her life to return his body to Kahlan. It still broke Kahlan’s heart to think of it. Kahlan would never have destroyed one member of her family out of grief for another, but even after years of affection and care between Cara and Kahlan, the Mord’Sith had somehow failed to understand that.
Cara’s wound had been much deeper than it had first appeared. When she had collapsed at Kahlan’s feet, her blood seeping onto the floor of the Great Hall, panic had risen in Kahlan’s chest, swirling and writhing together with her grief into a tight, white-hot ball of pain. Not you, too. I will not lose another today! You will live, she had commanded Cara silently as she bent over the unresponsive Mord’Sith. It had taken every ounce of her training to maintain a thin veneer of control while her muzzled screams battered the inside of her skull. Somehow she had managed to give directions to her advisors and her servants before she fled.
Kahlan had had Cara taken to her own chambers so that she could be close to the Mord’Sith. The gash in Cara’s side had putrefied during the days it had taken her to reach the Confessors Palace, and she had been overcome by fever. She had remained unconscious or semi-conscious for three weeks, while the palace healers and a contrite and somber Zedd had tended to her under Kahlan’s watchful eye. By day, Kahlan had gone through the motions of being the Mother Confessor. There had been funeral arrangements to make and the transfer of power to the new Lady Rahl to complete. Even now, Kahlan couldn’t remember how she had remained standing during those weeks, let alone how she had managed to rule. She had been like a ghost. At night in her bed chamber, she would weep for Richard and for herself while sitting huddled by the fire. She stopped eating. She would change Cara’s bandages and place cool, wet rags on Cara’s over-warm forehead. Sometimes, she would talk to Cara even though her words went unacknowledged, telling Cara how brave the Mord’Sith had been, pleading with her to come back. Other times she would pray to the Creator, begging Her to be merciful and not take yet another of her loved ones from her. It was as if saving Cara might save some part of herself that was on the verge of being lost forever.
One night Kahlan had found herself lying next to the inert Mord’Sith, holding her hand. Stroking Cara’s blonde hair, Kahlan had noticed how fragile the smaller woman seemed, nothing like the vibrant, fierce warrior and friend Kahlan had known for so long. The sight had terrified her. She hadn’t been able to breathe, as if an indescribable weight was slowly crushing the life from her. When finally her tears had come, she cried until exhaustion overcame her.
The next morning Kahlan had felt the hand still clenched in her own twitch and then return her grip, albeit weakly. She had opened her eyes to see green eyes looking back at her. Joy and relief had shot through Kahlan like a bolt of lightning. Laughing and crying at the same time, her mind whirling with too many emotions, Kahlan had impulsively kissed Cara. It had been a quick, almost chaste kiss, meant as nothing more than an expression of her happiness at seeing the Mord’Sith awake for the first time in weeks, but she could feel Cara’s lips move under her own and it had stirred something in her. Kahlan had drawn back in shock and confusion, her fingers pressed to her own lips. They had stared at each other for a moment that felt just shy of eternity, wordless, before Kahlan finally broke the spell. She had risen abruptly and called for a healer. It would be months before either of them finally had the courage to acknowledge what had passed between them that morning.
***
Kahlan was shaken from her reverie by the sounds of clashing metal coming in through an open window. She chuckled softly to herself when she realized that she was holding her fingers to her lips, just as she had the morning Cara awoke from her long illness. She peered out of the third story window, which opened to a view of a little used drill yard below. She could make out two figures, circling each other in the waning light. One twisted and turned with feline grace. The other’s motions were powerful and deliberate, but clumsy and unskilled. From time to time, their blades would catch the last fragments of light as they met and parted and met again. Of course Cara would be using a sword, thought Kahlan, though she had rarely seen the Mord’Sith handling one. Without the effect of magic, Cara’s agiels would have no more effect than a blunt stick on the skin of an ungifted one.
Suddenly the larger of the two women was on her backside after a swift blow from the other’s left hand. Cara’s rich tones wafted up to her.
“Watch my movements, blacksmith,” the Mord’Sith said sharply. “I advertised that last uppercut by dropping my shoulder. You need to learn to anticipate the attack from all sides, not just from my blade.”
Belle stood quickly, but she remained bent over with her hands upon her knees. She was breathing heavily and labored to respond, “Perhaps I would have seen the uppercut coming if I could see through the stars. I’m lucky that last elbow didn’t break my nose.”
“Would you rather I go easy on you?” asked Cara drily. Kahlan could imagine the Mord’Sith’s taunting smirk, though she could not see her face in the gathering darkness. “No doubt your enemies would extend you the same courtesy if you asked them nicely.”
Cara’s sarcasm seemed to goad Belle into motion. Pulling herself upright, the blacksmith lunged, catching Cara by surprise. However, the Mord’Sith’s years of experience proved superior over Belle’s momentary advantage and the blacksmith was driven back by a series of precise swings. Kahlan’s breath hitched at the way her lover’s red-clad body danced with an elegance as deadly as it was beautiful. Kahlan was also pleased to see that Belle did not give ground easily, though the sturdy woman was undoubtedly out-maneuvered. The blacksmith managed to give Cara one or two fierce jabs before Cara sent her sprawling once again.
“That is enough for tonight,” spoke Cara. “If you continue to hack away with your sword the way you did today, we’d all be safer giving you your hammer back.”
Kahlan thought this was a distinctly unfair assessment of the blacksmith’s progress, but Belle didn’t seem to be ruffled by Cara’s mockery. She laughed a hearty, full-bellied laugh as she struggled back to her feet for the second time.
“Who needs my hammer when we’ve got your tongue to flay our enemies alive?” she quipped. The Mord’Sith answered her with silence, but Kahlan could tell by the roll of her shoulders that Cara was fighting back her own smile.
“Tomorrow night, then,” Cara said.
“I’ll be here.”
As Mord’Sith exited the drill yard, Kahlan followed the sensual swagger of Cara’s hips, a familiar knot of desire curling deep in her belly. When the blonde had disappeared from sight, Kahlan leapt from her perch with the intention of intercepting her. No one knew how to relax her better than Cara.
***
Cara lay in the cooling bath, re-reading Berdine’s message in the journey book for a third time, though its contents made her no happier than they had the first time. She had insisted that Kahlan bathe first because she could see the fatigue in the brunette’s pale eyes and pinched features. Kahlan had succumbed to her persuasion, but only after extracting promises that Cara soon join her in their bed chamber. Left alone for a few minutes, Cara had taken the opportunity to examine the message that had arrived that afternoon from the Mord’Sith who commanded the People’s Palace in Cara and Kahlan’s absence.
Cara,
We are having no more luck uncovering the nature of this rebellion than you have. There are more
rumors than rats in a garbage heap, but every time we press further we find no substance. There have
been raids on several villages along the border between D’Hara and the Midlands, but every time our
troops arrive the perpetrators have fallen back into the wilds. There is nothing to prove that these
attacks are anything but the work of common brigands, yet I think they are more systematic than one
would expect from thugs and thieves. As you can imagine, Raina has worked herself into a fury over
our failure to capture even one of these men. The people are getting restless, too. They wonder if
the D’Haran Army has lost the mettle to keep them safe.
More troubling are the disappearances of certain Mord’Sith and Dragon Corps officers. There have not
been many, but those who have disappeared do not seem to have been taken by force. Cara, these are
people who only begrudgingly served Richard Rahl because the blood of D’Haran kings ran through his
veins. They questioned his strength and his ideals. You know I serve the Lady Rahl as faithfully as
any, but there are some who cannot stomach the idea of the Mother Confessor, once our sworn enemy,
ruling over D’Hara. Be careful.
Berdine
Cara snapped the journey book shut and tossed it onto the stool next to her. She shifted uncomfortably in the tepid water, dropping her head back to rest against the cool metal rim of the wash tub. She felt as though she was trying to put together a puzzle with only half the pieces, and it unsettled her. Defecting D’Harans and missing Old World magic. What did it mean? What was coming? Why were these rebels like ghosts, vanishing with the light of day? Cara had sent spies out in every direction, scouring the Midlands and D’Hara for information. At first they had nothing to report, then a few stopped reporting at all. Dead, captured, or converted? Cara had no way of knowing, and it infuriated her. She could sympathize with Berdine’s petite lover - she liked the circumstances no more than Raina did. She almost missed the days when it was just her, Kahlan, Richard and Zedd on the road. At least then it was fairly simple - hurt, kill or maim anything that tried to hurt her accidental family and occasionally follow an order from a reluctant Lord Rahl. Intrigue was never her strong suit.
A cough behind her caused Cara to spin around in the tub. She struggled to find her footing on the tub’s slick metal bottom, sloshing water onto the floor in her haste. She had not heard footsteps and she inwardly reproached herself for the lapse. A bemused Kahlan stood naked in the doorway, openly appraising Cara’s bare body.
“Can I help you, Mother Confessor?” Cara said in a tone that she hoped sounded sultry instead of flustered, doing what little she could to regain her dignity.
“I believe you were supposed to be in our bed by now,” replied Kahlan, her voice taking on a decidedly teasing lilt. She approached the Mord’Sith and reached out a hand. A slender fingertip caught a droplet of water that was about to fall from one of Cara’s nipples. Cara shivered slightly as Kahlan brought the finger to her lips and lightly sucked the water from it. Cara’s mind was trying to move in too many different directions at once, torn between desire and duty. She should be telling Kahlan about Berdine’s letter, not ogling her like some oversexed schoolboy. Her body seemed to have its own volition, though, and she found herself following Kahlan, her legs carrying her in the direction of their bed chambers. Cara’s eyes traveled down Kahlan’s smooth pale back, the curve of Kahlan’s hips, and the length of her gorgeous legs.
Cara quietly shut the door of the bed chamber and leaned back against it, savoring the sensation of craving that filled her as Kahlan stopped by the foot and gave her a look that somehow seemed both shy and wanton. Cara marveled at how Kahlan always maintained a sense of innocence and purity about her, even when engaged in the most carnal acts. She supposed that Kahlan had never had to fully divorce her mind from her body, as Cara had been forced to do, and for that Cara was eternally grateful. In a way, Kahlan was still innocent, despite all that she had seen and done as the Mother Confessor. Naturally Kahlan’s heart was as involved as her body in her love-making and it made Cara feel like she was responsible for a precious secret that was hers alone to keep safe. That thought filled her with equal parts dread and awe.
Cara’s pulse quickened as she pushed herself away from the door. A trickle of guilt ran through the river of desire flowing inside her. She had been rough with Kahlan lately, not enough to hurt her of course, but enough that Cara knew Kahlan had noticed. She had used the Confessor, selfishly taking her pleasure to exorcise her own demons. Cara despised the part of her herself that was too weak to stop. Tonight, however, Cara had seen the dark smudges under Kahlan’s eyes. Kahlan’s radiance was undiminished, but there were traces of exhaustion in the way she held her body. Tonight, Cara decided, would be for Kahlan, and Kahlan alone.
Coming up behind Kahlan, the Mord’Sith rested her hands on Kahlan’s hips as she began to place feathery kisses along Kahlan’s shoulders. Kahlan leaned back into her touch, her backside pressing into Cara’s front. Cara slid her right hand around Kahlan’s body, her hand making lazy circles on Kahlan’s belly. A soft moan escaped Kahlan’s lips and Cara took this as encouragement, her hand sliding lower to tease in the curls at the apex of Kahlan’s legs. Kahlan whimpered as Cara’s other hand reached up to cup a full breast, rolling Kahlan’s nipple gently between her fingers. Cara lingered over Kahlan’s breast, enjoying the feel of soft flesh under her fingertips. Then she placed one hand firmly between Kahlan’s legs and the other in the center of Kahlan’s chest, pulling the Confessor tight against her, Cara’s crotch rubbing against the swell of Kahlan’s buttocks.
“Spirits, Cara…the things you make me feel,” gasped Kahlan.
Cara paused for a moment to relish the sound of Kahlan’s arousal. She could feel her own sex tighten, but her attention was focused on the woman whose heat filled her senses. She buried her face in Kahlan’s thick tresses, inhaling her scent. With one smooth movement, she scooped the Confessor up into her arms and carried Kahlan the rest of the way to the bed. Kahlan gave a surprised squeak at finding herself literally swept off her feet, but Cara felt her relax in her embrace. Cara gently laid Kahlan down on the covers.
Heartbeat thundering in her ears, Cara took in the sight of her lover waiting so willingly, the Confessor’s blue eyes darkening to indigo. Cara knelt beside Kahlan and kissed her passionately, her tongue searching out Kahlan’s. She nipped at Kahlan’s lips, her chin, her throat, while Kahlan let out small sounds of pleasure. Cara continued the exploration of Kahlan’s body with her mouth, trailing wet kisses over the places her hands had been. Kahlan groaned, her body rising to meet Cara’s mouth.
Leaning back once again, Cara hesitated, a jumble of emotions roiling in her chest. Despite the misgivings and doubts souring her gut, she took the Rada’Han from the stand beside the bed and offered it to Kahlan. It was the first time the Mord’Sith had ever willingly abided its presence and Kahlan’s eyes widened in surprise.
“You’re going to need this,” Cara said gruffly, her voice thick with emotion, as she opened the Rada’Han for Kahlan, who sat up to put it on. Instead of taking it, Kahlan placed her own hands over Cara’s and guided the Mord’Sith’s hands to place the Rada’Han around her neck. Cara wanted to pull away, but she gritted her teeth and closed the collar. Kahlan’s hands wrapped around the back of Cara’s neck, as the Confessor pulled her forward into another deep kiss.
“Thank you,” Kahlan murmured when their lips finally separated. Cara gave her a half smile. If tonight was going to be for Kahlan, then Cara was not going to make Kahlan argue over the damned thing again. Cara didn’t have to like it; tonight she just had to accept it.
Kahlan laid back upon the bed, and Cara slid her own body over the Confessor’s. Cara rubbed her breasts on Kahlan’s while sucking on Kahlan’s earlobe. Kahlan cried out as Cara’s leg slid between Kahlan’s thighs, pressing against Kahlan’s center. Cara could feel Kahlan’s heat and wetness on her thigh as she rocked her hips against Kahlan’s. Kahlan responded by digging her fingers into Cara’s hips, increasing the pressure on them both. Driven by Kahlan’s panting, Cara quickened her tempo, and was rewarded by Kahlan’s sharp intake of breath. Kahlan’s hands moved to Cara’s back, and the Mord’Sith could feel the Confessor’s fingertips sink into her skin. The movement of Kahlan’s hips became more frantic, and Cara knew the Confessor needed release.
“Kahlan,” Cara whispered in a low growl, her mouth a hair’s breadth from the Confessor’s ear, “I’m going to taste you now.”
She felt Kahlan shudder under her in response, and a low, needy moan erupted from Kahlan’s mouth. The next moment Cara slid down Kahlan’s body and spread Kahlan’s legs wide with a gentle nudge from each hand. She blew a warm breath over Kahlan’s exposed flesh and the Confessor squirmed and gasped. A teasing swipe of Cara’s tongue through her folds made Kahlan growl in frustration.
“Don’t…make…me…beg,” Kahlan choked out.
A cocky smile spread across Cara’s face, but she yielded to Kahlan’s demand. Her tongue traced over every ridge and fold of Kahlan’s sex, tasting the sweet, musky flavor of her lover’s juices. Her lips closed over Kahlan’s clit, her tongue circling and flicking the hard nub. Kahlan writhed under Cara’s touch, her breaths coming in hard, shallow bursts. Cara purred with pleasure as Kahlan’s fingers wrapped themselves in Cara’s hair, holding Cara’s head even closer. Kahlan’s moans grew louder and Cara knew her lover was almost at her peak. With a practiced ease, Cara slid two fingers into Kahlan, curling her fingers in just the right way to bring Kahlan over the edge. Kahlan came, crying out Cara’s name over and over, her hips lifted off the bed.
Finally, Kahlan collapsed, weak and spent. Cara moved up to lay by her side, her arm thrown protectively over the Confessor’s torso and her leg across Kahlan’s thighs. Opening her eyes blearily, Kahlan sighed with contentment and turned her head to face Cara.
“I don’t know how you always manage to do that, but I’m not complaining,” Kahlan remarked sleepily. “Give me a minute and then I’ll be ready to return the favor.”
Cara brushed a thumb over Kahlan’s lips before reaching across Kahlan for the key to the Rada’Han. As gently as she could she slipped the collar away from Kahlan’s throat.
“You should sleep,” Cara stated firmly.
“But how can I return the favor if I’m asleep?” teased Kahlan. Cara could tell the Confessor was struggling to stay awake and the Mord’Sith allowed herself a self-satisfied smirk.
“Oh, that was no favor, Mother Confessor. I expect full payment for my services, plus interest, in the morning.”
“Alright, it’s a deal,” Kahlan mumbled. Her eyes had already closed again and her breathing was becoming slow and steady. Within minutes she was sound asleep. Cara stayed awake for a long time, watching the rise and fall of Kahlan’s chest.
***
An incessant pounding on their door woke Cara and Kahlan before dawn. Pausing only to slip on a thin shift, Cara grabbed an agiel and stalked to the door. She glanced over her shoulder to confirm that Kahlan was likewise adequately covered. The Mother Confessor already had one of her razor sharp daggers in her hand and was reaching for the other. With a nod from Kahlan, Cara threw the door wide, her agiel at the ready. Her blazing eyes met with the terrified ones of a young Home Guard Captain caught in mid-knock. He quailed at the sight of the furious Mord’Sith.
“What is it?” Cara snarled.
The captain looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but standing in front an angry, half-dressed Mord’Sith, but he kept his voice steady. “Mistress Cara, Mother Confessor, there’s an army at the front gate. General Etiel sent me to get you right away.”
“How in the Keeper’s name did an army appear on our doorstep without us knowing it, Captain?”
“I have no idea, Mistress. They weren’t there during the last patrol. They just…appeared.”
“Armies don’t just pop out of thin air. Somebody missed something.” Cara’s tone left no doubt that somebody should hope that she didn’t get a hold of them.
“No, Mistress, they don’t, but I was on patrol right where the army was first spotted not half a candlemark before we saw them. I promise you they were not there.”
“How many are there?”
“Not many - a few hundred at most. Mounted riders. No insignia that we can see.”
Kahlan appeared over Cara’s shoulder. “Who would be foolish enough to attempt an attack on Aydindril with only a few hundred men? That makes no sense. The battle would be over before it started.”
The captain’s attention snapped to the Mother Confessor. “I don’t understand it myself, Mother Confessor. And they haven’t attacked yet. They’re just standing there, as if waiting for something.”
Cara gave him a hard look. With the hand holding the agiel, she pointed a finger at him.
“Ten minutes, in the stables. My horse better be saddled and ready to ride. Understood?”
The captain clapped a fist over his heart and bowed. “Right away, Mistress.”
Cara spun on her heel. Before Cara could even find her leathers, Kahlan was half way into her clothes already and was pulling her Confessor’s dress over her head.
“I’ll ride with you,” Kahlan said hurriedly, her voice muffled by the fabric over her face.
“No!” Cara replied sharply, too sharply. She winced inwardly at the sound.
As the dress settled around Kahlan’s shoulders, her eyes glowed with fury. Her voice was cold when she responded. “You dare tell me not to see what army threatens my city?”
“Kahlan, that’s not what I meant,” Cara tried again. “I just meant that I think it’s best that you, the Mother Confessor, command from here until we know who or what we’re dealing with. The palace guards will need to be alerted, defenses organized. The Councilors must be told. Somebody needs to find Zedd.”
The edges of Kahlan’s mouth began to soften a little, but Cara could still see the anger brimming in her eyes. Though some part of her knew it would only make things worse, Cara let her exasperation show and she rolled her eyes. She knew full well that Kahlan had stared down more than one army before, but there was no cause to put the Mother Confessor in harm’s way needlessly.
“It is my duty to protect my people,” snapped Kahlan.
“A duty you can fulfill just as well from the Confessors Palace as from the city walls,” argued Cara as she tugged on her leathers.
“I will not hide behind the palace guards while some army storms Aydindril. I have been driven from this city once before and it will not happen again.”
After violently yanking on her boots, Cara stood to face Kahlan, her hands on her hips. “No one is asking you to sit idly by while your people are slaughtered. There hasn’t even been an attack yet. I’m just asking that you give me the time to figure out what is going on. Something is clearly amiss if our scouts missed three hundred riders until they were practically on top of us. I will send word immediately once I understand what’s happening.”
Cara could see Kahlan considering her words. No doubt the Confessor was still angry with her, but Cara hoped the logic of her argument would be more persuasive than Kahlan’s wrath.
Finally the Mother Confessor spoke, “Unless attacked first, you will take no action. You will report directly to me as soon as possible.”
“Yes, my Lady,” replied Cara with careful obedience, relieved.
“And you will see to it that your arrogant, insufferable, sorry hide makes it back to me in one piece,” Kahlan continued.
“Do you even question it?” smirked Cara.
Kahlan approached Cara with an odd look in her eyes. She grabbed Cara roughly by the nape of the neck and pressed her own forehead to Cara’s.
“I question it all the time. Please be careful.” Kahlan’s voice was husky.
“Only if you do the same,” growled Cara. They shared a brief, bruising kiss and then they were both gone, the Mord’Sith disappearing in one direction, the Mother Confessor in another.
***
When Cara reached the palace stables she found three horses awaiting her. Her own black stallion stood ready, awaiting his rider, the captain sat astride a gray courser, and a familiar figure straddled a chestnut mare.
“I don’t think this ride requires a blacksmith,” Cara called out to Belle as she came in sight.
“I heard the ruckus the captain’s arrival caused when he galloped by the smithy. I figured I would ride along and see what all the fuss was about,” answered Belle cheerfully.
“You’re no soldier.”
“And as far as I know there’s no battle yet. What’s the harm in taking a look?”
Cara shook her head furiously. What was wrong with everyone this morning? She had no time to debate with the fool woman after wasting time arguing with the Mother Confessor.
“Fine, but keep up,” Cara shot back as she mounted her horse, “and if fighting does break out, don’t be daft enough to try and help. You’ll only get in the way and probably get yourself killed.”
With that Cara spurred her horse forward at a sharp command, leaving the captain and Belle scrambling to catch up. They rode at a full gallop down the empty streets of Aydindril, the hot breath of the horses turning to steam in the cool morning air. The hooves of the horses clattered over cobblestone, the staccato sound puncturing the peace of the sleeping city. Cara reined in her stallion as they drew up to the main gates of Aydindril. She knew she was only seeing the massive oak and iron doors of the inner wall. Beyond these doors lay a second set, framed by a towering stone arch. Both sets of doors remained closed at night. There were other, smaller entrances through which merchants and guards could pass through at night if need be, but the broad main road into Aydindril was sealed each night at sunset and stayed close until sunrise.
Taking steps two at a time, Cara scaled the inner wall, Belle close on her heels. She strode across one of the gangways that attached the inner wall to the outer wall. In case the outer wall was breached the gangways could be pulled back to the inner wall, forcing any invaders to either create their own and risk having them be knocked down by the city’s defenders as they attempted to cross, or enter the rift between the two walls where archers could rain down death upon them from both the top of the inner wall and arrow slits placed throughout the wall. Cara was gratified to find the outer wall lined with archers standing at the ready. Cara approached the hulking form of General Etiel where he stood directly atop the arch over the main gate, his cold gray eyes gazing out at the road below him.
General Etiel was a loyal, war-hardened veteran of the Midlands’ war with D’Hara, even if his leadership was a bit uninspired, in Cara’s opinion. He was not happy serving under a D’Haran Mord’Sith, but he had made it clear that he respected the Mother Confessor’s word as law and would abide by her appointment of Cara as head of the Home Guard.
Without turning, he acknowledged Cara. “Mistress Cara, it seems we have visitors.”
“Indeed,” remarked Cara. “And have our guests decided to announce themselves?”
“Not as of yet.”
In the gray pre-dawn light, Cara could make out armored riders loosely organized on the road just outside the gates. The thin morning mist, so common to spring in Aydindril, swirled about the legs of their mounts and softened their outline, giving the would-be invaders an almost ethereal appearance. There seemed to be no order or rank amongst them and their armor varied from rider to rider. She saw D’Haran craftsmanship mixed with pieces that clearly bore the mark of the Midlands. Some of the warriors’ mail even seemed to have the exotic look of the Old World about them. The men’s choice of weapons appeared as diverse as their taste in armor. She saw long swords and short, spears and maces, axes and morning stars. Not one, however, carried a shield. Apparently they were either too foolish or too brave to think they needed the additional protection.
“What have they been doing then?”
“That’s the strange thing. They haven’t been doing anything at all. They galloped up to the main gate and then just stopped. They’ve been like that since they arrived. We’ve called down to them, asked them their business, told them to clear the road, but they don’t respond. Not a word. Not even among themselves. Every once in awhile one will look over their shoulder like they’re looking for something, but other than that they’re just sitting there.”
“And you’ve checked the perimeter of the city and there’s no other sign of anything strange?”
“Of course we checked. We haven’t found a thing.” The General shrugged. “I can’t figure it out.”
Cara felt an odd tension rising in her, a kind of nauseous anticipation that twisted her gut. For weeks, things had been off. Now armed men had shown up without warning at the gates of Aydindril, only to sit as mute as spirits just beyond the walls. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. There was danger here, but she was uncertain what it was. Here was the calm, but where was the storm? Cara turned the series of strange events over in her mind, trying yet again to see it from every angle, to find the missing pieces.
“General, double the guards at every entrance into the city. Make sure the mounted battalions are ready within the hour. Alert the palace that there needs to be no fewer than four guards with the Mother Confessor at all times until we get this sorted out.”
General Etiel nodded and turned to his lieutenants to assure that Cara’s orders were carried out. The sun broke over the eastern horizon. Beside Cara, Belle fidgeted with something in her pack. The blacksmith pulled out a long leather tube, narrow at one end, wider at the other. Cara thought she caught the glint of glass on the narrow end before Belle pressed it to her eye.
“Another one of your inventions?” asked Cara, one eyebrow arched in curiosity.
“Yes. It lets me see farther than any human eye could. It magnifies faraway objects, making them visible,” answered Belle.
“Convenient, especially in a situation like now. Perhaps you could have mentioned this before now.” Cara’s voice suggested Belle should have mentioned it a long time before now.
“You didn’t ask. It’s not a weapon, after all.”
Cara snorted and surveyed the plains that Belle was scanning. Other than the men below, little seemed out of place. “And what is it you see through your invention?”
Belle did not answer.
Cara turned to her. The blacksmith had gone white and was trembling. Her invention shook in her hands.
“Belle?”
Without a word, Belle handed Cara the instrument. Cara raised it to her eye. At first the effect was confusing as objects jumped suddenly closer, but Cara oriented herself quickly. A sweep of the plain revealed nothing.
“I don’t see anything,” said Cara irritably, her brows knitted in confusion.
“Not down there,” replied Belle, still quite pale. Her voice quavered. She pointed somewhere in the sky. “Up there.”
Bringing the instrument up again, Cara looked in the direction of Belle’s finger. At first there was nothing but pale blue sky and the occasional cloud. Then she saw it. Her heart skipped a beat. Not trusting her first inclination, Cara looked away and then looked back. It was still there and getting closer. What had started out as an indistinct blob of red began to take on definition and now Cara could most certainly make out a pair of huge wings with an enormous tail trailing behind.
Cara swept the skies a second time, and more blobs started to form out of the backdrop of naked sky. She counted, counted again, and, as if her brain was slow to comprehend what her eyes were telling her, she counted a third time.
“Six. There’s six,” she whispered almost inaudibly. She stared at Belle for a moment, who stared back at her with eyes filling with fear. It was as if the two of them were momentarily struck dumb. Cara could feel a black pit open up in her belly, threatening to swallow her, as her world tilted crazily on its axis. Then Belle blinked. At once, reality seemed to snap back into place and Cara grabbed the General’s arm with an iron grip.
“General, you need to get your men off this wall - right now,” ordered Cara.
“What? Why?”
Cara answered, her voice steely and deadly calm.
“Dragons.”
Part IV
Author: burning_arrow
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: R/NC-17 (varies by chapter and I’m not going to rate each one)
Warnings: major character death (but fear not for our heroines)
Disclaimer: Obviously I don’t own these characters. If I did, don’t you think things would have gone a bit differently? My muse thanks Terry Goodkind and ABC for giving her such good fodder though.
Word Count: 6,232
Summary: Takes place several years after Tears. Kahlan rules over D’Hara and the Midlands, with Cara at her side, but behind the tentative peace lies a new threat. Part III.: Cara struggles to find clues about the threats to Aydindril, while also trying to come to terms with some of her feelings about Kahlan.
A/N: I’ve only read the first two books completely and skimmed a few of the others, so I am probably taking liberties with the layout of Aydindril. I have no idea if the city and its walls were described in any detail in the books, and therefore whether I’m botching it up - sorry.
A/N2: This is mostly grounded in the LOTS TV series canon, but borrows occasionally from the books where convenient. It also involves major characters of my own invention. If you don’t like this kind of mix and match please don’t read.
Part III. The Gathering Storm
The sky changed from orange to red, then red to purple, and finally purple to navy blue as twilight crept across Aydindril. At last, spring had begun to creep into the north lands, and the smell of new grass and wildflowers was carried by the wind coming from the plains. Kahlan walked through the back passages of the Palace, trying to relax her stiff body and restless mind. She had dismissed the last of her advisors after a particularly grueling afternoon of treaty negotiations. Always at the back of her mind was the hidden threat of the mysterious rebellion. Almost a month had passed since Zedd’s return, but Cara would just shake her head each time Kahlan asked if information had been discovered about the identity of the rebels, their whereabouts, anything at all. Zedd’s search into the power of the Stones of Surrender was proving equally as futile. Without anything substantial to act upon Kahlan could do nothing but continue to rule Aydindril as she had before.
After ending the afternoon’s taxing session of political deal-making, Kahlan had gone in search of her lover. A smile came unbidden to her lips as she rolled the word over in her mind. Lover. She still wondered at the twists of fate that had turned a woman she should have hated into a lover.
***
Richard had started it four years ago, insisting that Kahlan give Cara a chance to prove her worth as a ‘reformed’ Mord’Sith. He was raised in Westland, and didn’t fully understand the enmity between Confessors and the Mord’Sith. Mord’Sith were more than the living instruments of pain and torture used by the Rahl bloodline - they were also the weapons with which the Rahls hunted the Confessors nearly to extinction. Kahlan despised them. However, for reasons that she hadn’t fully understood herself, Kahlan had acquiesced to Richard’s request. Kahlan’s wary caution towards Cara had reluctantly transformed into begrudging respect, which eventually melted into warm affection and powerful trust. Through a year of searching for the Stone of Tears and another two years of Richard and Kahlan’s rule, Cara and Kahlan’s bond had remained much the same, comfortable and safe. During those years Kahlan would occasionally notice an inscrutable expression on Cara’s face as she looked at her, but all Mord’Sith were unreadable to a Confessor, and Kahlan gave it little thought. Besides, Cara was in Aydindril even less than Richard. Often, when Richard would return from a season at the People’s Palace, Cara would stay behind to oversee the implementation of his edicts. Kahlan missed the Mord’Sith, as she would any member of her family, but the Mother Confessor understood duty better than anyone and so she did not dwell on Cara’s absence.
Then Cara had come home, Richard’s body hung over the back of her horse and the Sword of Truth in her hand. Kahlan’s world had come apart at the seams. As Cara had announced Richard’s fall, Kahlan had felt her insides twist in agony. Her greatest fear finally had been realized. Richard was gone and every bone in her body ached instantly with the loss. Through a haze of pain, Kahlan had seen that the Mord’Sith expected to be confessed, yet still Cara had returned to Aydindril to face the Mother Confessor, unconcerned for her own fate. How little the Mord’Sith must have thought of herself to anticipate such treatment. How loyal she had been to Richard to be willing to lay down her life to return his body to Kahlan. It still broke Kahlan’s heart to think of it. Kahlan would never have destroyed one member of her family out of grief for another, but even after years of affection and care between Cara and Kahlan, the Mord’Sith had somehow failed to understand that.
Cara’s wound had been much deeper than it had first appeared. When she had collapsed at Kahlan’s feet, her blood seeping onto the floor of the Great Hall, panic had risen in Kahlan’s chest, swirling and writhing together with her grief into a tight, white-hot ball of pain. Not you, too. I will not lose another today! You will live, she had commanded Cara silently as she bent over the unresponsive Mord’Sith. It had taken every ounce of her training to maintain a thin veneer of control while her muzzled screams battered the inside of her skull. Somehow she had managed to give directions to her advisors and her servants before she fled.
Kahlan had had Cara taken to her own chambers so that she could be close to the Mord’Sith. The gash in Cara’s side had putrefied during the days it had taken her to reach the Confessors Palace, and she had been overcome by fever. She had remained unconscious or semi-conscious for three weeks, while the palace healers and a contrite and somber Zedd had tended to her under Kahlan’s watchful eye. By day, Kahlan had gone through the motions of being the Mother Confessor. There had been funeral arrangements to make and the transfer of power to the new Lady Rahl to complete. Even now, Kahlan couldn’t remember how she had remained standing during those weeks, let alone how she had managed to rule. She had been like a ghost. At night in her bed chamber, she would weep for Richard and for herself while sitting huddled by the fire. She stopped eating. She would change Cara’s bandages and place cool, wet rags on Cara’s over-warm forehead. Sometimes, she would talk to Cara even though her words went unacknowledged, telling Cara how brave the Mord’Sith had been, pleading with her to come back. Other times she would pray to the Creator, begging Her to be merciful and not take yet another of her loved ones from her. It was as if saving Cara might save some part of herself that was on the verge of being lost forever.
One night Kahlan had found herself lying next to the inert Mord’Sith, holding her hand. Stroking Cara’s blonde hair, Kahlan had noticed how fragile the smaller woman seemed, nothing like the vibrant, fierce warrior and friend Kahlan had known for so long. The sight had terrified her. She hadn’t been able to breathe, as if an indescribable weight was slowly crushing the life from her. When finally her tears had come, she cried until exhaustion overcame her.
The next morning Kahlan had felt the hand still clenched in her own twitch and then return her grip, albeit weakly. She had opened her eyes to see green eyes looking back at her. Joy and relief had shot through Kahlan like a bolt of lightning. Laughing and crying at the same time, her mind whirling with too many emotions, Kahlan had impulsively kissed Cara. It had been a quick, almost chaste kiss, meant as nothing more than an expression of her happiness at seeing the Mord’Sith awake for the first time in weeks, but she could feel Cara’s lips move under her own and it had stirred something in her. Kahlan had drawn back in shock and confusion, her fingers pressed to her own lips. They had stared at each other for a moment that felt just shy of eternity, wordless, before Kahlan finally broke the spell. She had risen abruptly and called for a healer. It would be months before either of them finally had the courage to acknowledge what had passed between them that morning.
***
Kahlan was shaken from her reverie by the sounds of clashing metal coming in through an open window. She chuckled softly to herself when she realized that she was holding her fingers to her lips, just as she had the morning Cara awoke from her long illness. She peered out of the third story window, which opened to a view of a little used drill yard below. She could make out two figures, circling each other in the waning light. One twisted and turned with feline grace. The other’s motions were powerful and deliberate, but clumsy and unskilled. From time to time, their blades would catch the last fragments of light as they met and parted and met again. Of course Cara would be using a sword, thought Kahlan, though she had rarely seen the Mord’Sith handling one. Without the effect of magic, Cara’s agiels would have no more effect than a blunt stick on the skin of an ungifted one.
Suddenly the larger of the two women was on her backside after a swift blow from the other’s left hand. Cara’s rich tones wafted up to her.
“Watch my movements, blacksmith,” the Mord’Sith said sharply. “I advertised that last uppercut by dropping my shoulder. You need to learn to anticipate the attack from all sides, not just from my blade.”
Belle stood quickly, but she remained bent over with her hands upon her knees. She was breathing heavily and labored to respond, “Perhaps I would have seen the uppercut coming if I could see through the stars. I’m lucky that last elbow didn’t break my nose.”
“Would you rather I go easy on you?” asked Cara drily. Kahlan could imagine the Mord’Sith’s taunting smirk, though she could not see her face in the gathering darkness. “No doubt your enemies would extend you the same courtesy if you asked them nicely.”
Cara’s sarcasm seemed to goad Belle into motion. Pulling herself upright, the blacksmith lunged, catching Cara by surprise. However, the Mord’Sith’s years of experience proved superior over Belle’s momentary advantage and the blacksmith was driven back by a series of precise swings. Kahlan’s breath hitched at the way her lover’s red-clad body danced with an elegance as deadly as it was beautiful. Kahlan was also pleased to see that Belle did not give ground easily, though the sturdy woman was undoubtedly out-maneuvered. The blacksmith managed to give Cara one or two fierce jabs before Cara sent her sprawling once again.
“That is enough for tonight,” spoke Cara. “If you continue to hack away with your sword the way you did today, we’d all be safer giving you your hammer back.”
Kahlan thought this was a distinctly unfair assessment of the blacksmith’s progress, but Belle didn’t seem to be ruffled by Cara’s mockery. She laughed a hearty, full-bellied laugh as she struggled back to her feet for the second time.
“Who needs my hammer when we’ve got your tongue to flay our enemies alive?” she quipped. The Mord’Sith answered her with silence, but Kahlan could tell by the roll of her shoulders that Cara was fighting back her own smile.
“Tomorrow night, then,” Cara said.
“I’ll be here.”
As Mord’Sith exited the drill yard, Kahlan followed the sensual swagger of Cara’s hips, a familiar knot of desire curling deep in her belly. When the blonde had disappeared from sight, Kahlan leapt from her perch with the intention of intercepting her. No one knew how to relax her better than Cara.
***
Cara lay in the cooling bath, re-reading Berdine’s message in the journey book for a third time, though its contents made her no happier than they had the first time. She had insisted that Kahlan bathe first because she could see the fatigue in the brunette’s pale eyes and pinched features. Kahlan had succumbed to her persuasion, but only after extracting promises that Cara soon join her in their bed chamber. Left alone for a few minutes, Cara had taken the opportunity to examine the message that had arrived that afternoon from the Mord’Sith who commanded the People’s Palace in Cara and Kahlan’s absence.
Cara,
We are having no more luck uncovering the nature of this rebellion than you have. There are more
rumors than rats in a garbage heap, but every time we press further we find no substance. There have
been raids on several villages along the border between D’Hara and the Midlands, but every time our
troops arrive the perpetrators have fallen back into the wilds. There is nothing to prove that these
attacks are anything but the work of common brigands, yet I think they are more systematic than one
would expect from thugs and thieves. As you can imagine, Raina has worked herself into a fury over
our failure to capture even one of these men. The people are getting restless, too. They wonder if
the D’Haran Army has lost the mettle to keep them safe.
More troubling are the disappearances of certain Mord’Sith and Dragon Corps officers. There have not
been many, but those who have disappeared do not seem to have been taken by force. Cara, these are
people who only begrudgingly served Richard Rahl because the blood of D’Haran kings ran through his
veins. They questioned his strength and his ideals. You know I serve the Lady Rahl as faithfully as
any, but there are some who cannot stomach the idea of the Mother Confessor, once our sworn enemy,
ruling over D’Hara. Be careful.
Berdine
Cara snapped the journey book shut and tossed it onto the stool next to her. She shifted uncomfortably in the tepid water, dropping her head back to rest against the cool metal rim of the wash tub. She felt as though she was trying to put together a puzzle with only half the pieces, and it unsettled her. Defecting D’Harans and missing Old World magic. What did it mean? What was coming? Why were these rebels like ghosts, vanishing with the light of day? Cara had sent spies out in every direction, scouring the Midlands and D’Hara for information. At first they had nothing to report, then a few stopped reporting at all. Dead, captured, or converted? Cara had no way of knowing, and it infuriated her. She could sympathize with Berdine’s petite lover - she liked the circumstances no more than Raina did. She almost missed the days when it was just her, Kahlan, Richard and Zedd on the road. At least then it was fairly simple - hurt, kill or maim anything that tried to hurt her accidental family and occasionally follow an order from a reluctant Lord Rahl. Intrigue was never her strong suit.
A cough behind her caused Cara to spin around in the tub. She struggled to find her footing on the tub’s slick metal bottom, sloshing water onto the floor in her haste. She had not heard footsteps and she inwardly reproached herself for the lapse. A bemused Kahlan stood naked in the doorway, openly appraising Cara’s bare body.
“Can I help you, Mother Confessor?” Cara said in a tone that she hoped sounded sultry instead of flustered, doing what little she could to regain her dignity.
“I believe you were supposed to be in our bed by now,” replied Kahlan, her voice taking on a decidedly teasing lilt. She approached the Mord’Sith and reached out a hand. A slender fingertip caught a droplet of water that was about to fall from one of Cara’s nipples. Cara shivered slightly as Kahlan brought the finger to her lips and lightly sucked the water from it. Cara’s mind was trying to move in too many different directions at once, torn between desire and duty. She should be telling Kahlan about Berdine’s letter, not ogling her like some oversexed schoolboy. Her body seemed to have its own volition, though, and she found herself following Kahlan, her legs carrying her in the direction of their bed chambers. Cara’s eyes traveled down Kahlan’s smooth pale back, the curve of Kahlan’s hips, and the length of her gorgeous legs.
Cara quietly shut the door of the bed chamber and leaned back against it, savoring the sensation of craving that filled her as Kahlan stopped by the foot and gave her a look that somehow seemed both shy and wanton. Cara marveled at how Kahlan always maintained a sense of innocence and purity about her, even when engaged in the most carnal acts. She supposed that Kahlan had never had to fully divorce her mind from her body, as Cara had been forced to do, and for that Cara was eternally grateful. In a way, Kahlan was still innocent, despite all that she had seen and done as the Mother Confessor. Naturally Kahlan’s heart was as involved as her body in her love-making and it made Cara feel like she was responsible for a precious secret that was hers alone to keep safe. That thought filled her with equal parts dread and awe.
Cara’s pulse quickened as she pushed herself away from the door. A trickle of guilt ran through the river of desire flowing inside her. She had been rough with Kahlan lately, not enough to hurt her of course, but enough that Cara knew Kahlan had noticed. She had used the Confessor, selfishly taking her pleasure to exorcise her own demons. Cara despised the part of her herself that was too weak to stop. Tonight, however, Cara had seen the dark smudges under Kahlan’s eyes. Kahlan’s radiance was undiminished, but there were traces of exhaustion in the way she held her body. Tonight, Cara decided, would be for Kahlan, and Kahlan alone.
Coming up behind Kahlan, the Mord’Sith rested her hands on Kahlan’s hips as she began to place feathery kisses along Kahlan’s shoulders. Kahlan leaned back into her touch, her backside pressing into Cara’s front. Cara slid her right hand around Kahlan’s body, her hand making lazy circles on Kahlan’s belly. A soft moan escaped Kahlan’s lips and Cara took this as encouragement, her hand sliding lower to tease in the curls at the apex of Kahlan’s legs. Kahlan whimpered as Cara’s other hand reached up to cup a full breast, rolling Kahlan’s nipple gently between her fingers. Cara lingered over Kahlan’s breast, enjoying the feel of soft flesh under her fingertips. Then she placed one hand firmly between Kahlan’s legs and the other in the center of Kahlan’s chest, pulling the Confessor tight against her, Cara’s crotch rubbing against the swell of Kahlan’s buttocks.
“Spirits, Cara…the things you make me feel,” gasped Kahlan.
Cara paused for a moment to relish the sound of Kahlan’s arousal. She could feel her own sex tighten, but her attention was focused on the woman whose heat filled her senses. She buried her face in Kahlan’s thick tresses, inhaling her scent. With one smooth movement, she scooped the Confessor up into her arms and carried Kahlan the rest of the way to the bed. Kahlan gave a surprised squeak at finding herself literally swept off her feet, but Cara felt her relax in her embrace. Cara gently laid Kahlan down on the covers.
Heartbeat thundering in her ears, Cara took in the sight of her lover waiting so willingly, the Confessor’s blue eyes darkening to indigo. Cara knelt beside Kahlan and kissed her passionately, her tongue searching out Kahlan’s. She nipped at Kahlan’s lips, her chin, her throat, while Kahlan let out small sounds of pleasure. Cara continued the exploration of Kahlan’s body with her mouth, trailing wet kisses over the places her hands had been. Kahlan groaned, her body rising to meet Cara’s mouth.
Leaning back once again, Cara hesitated, a jumble of emotions roiling in her chest. Despite the misgivings and doubts souring her gut, she took the Rada’Han from the stand beside the bed and offered it to Kahlan. It was the first time the Mord’Sith had ever willingly abided its presence and Kahlan’s eyes widened in surprise.
“You’re going to need this,” Cara said gruffly, her voice thick with emotion, as she opened the Rada’Han for Kahlan, who sat up to put it on. Instead of taking it, Kahlan placed her own hands over Cara’s and guided the Mord’Sith’s hands to place the Rada’Han around her neck. Cara wanted to pull away, but she gritted her teeth and closed the collar. Kahlan’s hands wrapped around the back of Cara’s neck, as the Confessor pulled her forward into another deep kiss.
“Thank you,” Kahlan murmured when their lips finally separated. Cara gave her a half smile. If tonight was going to be for Kahlan, then Cara was not going to make Kahlan argue over the damned thing again. Cara didn’t have to like it; tonight she just had to accept it.
Kahlan laid back upon the bed, and Cara slid her own body over the Confessor’s. Cara rubbed her breasts on Kahlan’s while sucking on Kahlan’s earlobe. Kahlan cried out as Cara’s leg slid between Kahlan’s thighs, pressing against Kahlan’s center. Cara could feel Kahlan’s heat and wetness on her thigh as she rocked her hips against Kahlan’s. Kahlan responded by digging her fingers into Cara’s hips, increasing the pressure on them both. Driven by Kahlan’s panting, Cara quickened her tempo, and was rewarded by Kahlan’s sharp intake of breath. Kahlan’s hands moved to Cara’s back, and the Mord’Sith could feel the Confessor’s fingertips sink into her skin. The movement of Kahlan’s hips became more frantic, and Cara knew the Confessor needed release.
“Kahlan,” Cara whispered in a low growl, her mouth a hair’s breadth from the Confessor’s ear, “I’m going to taste you now.”
She felt Kahlan shudder under her in response, and a low, needy moan erupted from Kahlan’s mouth. The next moment Cara slid down Kahlan’s body and spread Kahlan’s legs wide with a gentle nudge from each hand. She blew a warm breath over Kahlan’s exposed flesh and the Confessor squirmed and gasped. A teasing swipe of Cara’s tongue through her folds made Kahlan growl in frustration.
“Don’t…make…me…beg,” Kahlan choked out.
A cocky smile spread across Cara’s face, but she yielded to Kahlan’s demand. Her tongue traced over every ridge and fold of Kahlan’s sex, tasting the sweet, musky flavor of her lover’s juices. Her lips closed over Kahlan’s clit, her tongue circling and flicking the hard nub. Kahlan writhed under Cara’s touch, her breaths coming in hard, shallow bursts. Cara purred with pleasure as Kahlan’s fingers wrapped themselves in Cara’s hair, holding Cara’s head even closer. Kahlan’s moans grew louder and Cara knew her lover was almost at her peak. With a practiced ease, Cara slid two fingers into Kahlan, curling her fingers in just the right way to bring Kahlan over the edge. Kahlan came, crying out Cara’s name over and over, her hips lifted off the bed.
Finally, Kahlan collapsed, weak and spent. Cara moved up to lay by her side, her arm thrown protectively over the Confessor’s torso and her leg across Kahlan’s thighs. Opening her eyes blearily, Kahlan sighed with contentment and turned her head to face Cara.
“I don’t know how you always manage to do that, but I’m not complaining,” Kahlan remarked sleepily. “Give me a minute and then I’ll be ready to return the favor.”
Cara brushed a thumb over Kahlan’s lips before reaching across Kahlan for the key to the Rada’Han. As gently as she could she slipped the collar away from Kahlan’s throat.
“You should sleep,” Cara stated firmly.
“But how can I return the favor if I’m asleep?” teased Kahlan. Cara could tell the Confessor was struggling to stay awake and the Mord’Sith allowed herself a self-satisfied smirk.
“Oh, that was no favor, Mother Confessor. I expect full payment for my services, plus interest, in the morning.”
“Alright, it’s a deal,” Kahlan mumbled. Her eyes had already closed again and her breathing was becoming slow and steady. Within minutes she was sound asleep. Cara stayed awake for a long time, watching the rise and fall of Kahlan’s chest.
***
An incessant pounding on their door woke Cara and Kahlan before dawn. Pausing only to slip on a thin shift, Cara grabbed an agiel and stalked to the door. She glanced over her shoulder to confirm that Kahlan was likewise adequately covered. The Mother Confessor already had one of her razor sharp daggers in her hand and was reaching for the other. With a nod from Kahlan, Cara threw the door wide, her agiel at the ready. Her blazing eyes met with the terrified ones of a young Home Guard Captain caught in mid-knock. He quailed at the sight of the furious Mord’Sith.
“What is it?” Cara snarled.
The captain looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but standing in front an angry, half-dressed Mord’Sith, but he kept his voice steady. “Mistress Cara, Mother Confessor, there’s an army at the front gate. General Etiel sent me to get you right away.”
“How in the Keeper’s name did an army appear on our doorstep without us knowing it, Captain?”
“I have no idea, Mistress. They weren’t there during the last patrol. They just…appeared.”
“Armies don’t just pop out of thin air. Somebody missed something.” Cara’s tone left no doubt that somebody should hope that she didn’t get a hold of them.
“No, Mistress, they don’t, but I was on patrol right where the army was first spotted not half a candlemark before we saw them. I promise you they were not there.”
“How many are there?”
“Not many - a few hundred at most. Mounted riders. No insignia that we can see.”
Kahlan appeared over Cara’s shoulder. “Who would be foolish enough to attempt an attack on Aydindril with only a few hundred men? That makes no sense. The battle would be over before it started.”
The captain’s attention snapped to the Mother Confessor. “I don’t understand it myself, Mother Confessor. And they haven’t attacked yet. They’re just standing there, as if waiting for something.”
Cara gave him a hard look. With the hand holding the agiel, she pointed a finger at him.
“Ten minutes, in the stables. My horse better be saddled and ready to ride. Understood?”
The captain clapped a fist over his heart and bowed. “Right away, Mistress.”
Cara spun on her heel. Before Cara could even find her leathers, Kahlan was half way into her clothes already and was pulling her Confessor’s dress over her head.
“I’ll ride with you,” Kahlan said hurriedly, her voice muffled by the fabric over her face.
“No!” Cara replied sharply, too sharply. She winced inwardly at the sound.
As the dress settled around Kahlan’s shoulders, her eyes glowed with fury. Her voice was cold when she responded. “You dare tell me not to see what army threatens my city?”
“Kahlan, that’s not what I meant,” Cara tried again. “I just meant that I think it’s best that you, the Mother Confessor, command from here until we know who or what we’re dealing with. The palace guards will need to be alerted, defenses organized. The Councilors must be told. Somebody needs to find Zedd.”
The edges of Kahlan’s mouth began to soften a little, but Cara could still see the anger brimming in her eyes. Though some part of her knew it would only make things worse, Cara let her exasperation show and she rolled her eyes. She knew full well that Kahlan had stared down more than one army before, but there was no cause to put the Mother Confessor in harm’s way needlessly.
“It is my duty to protect my people,” snapped Kahlan.
“A duty you can fulfill just as well from the Confessors Palace as from the city walls,” argued Cara as she tugged on her leathers.
“I will not hide behind the palace guards while some army storms Aydindril. I have been driven from this city once before and it will not happen again.”
After violently yanking on her boots, Cara stood to face Kahlan, her hands on her hips. “No one is asking you to sit idly by while your people are slaughtered. There hasn’t even been an attack yet. I’m just asking that you give me the time to figure out what is going on. Something is clearly amiss if our scouts missed three hundred riders until they were practically on top of us. I will send word immediately once I understand what’s happening.”
Cara could see Kahlan considering her words. No doubt the Confessor was still angry with her, but Cara hoped the logic of her argument would be more persuasive than Kahlan’s wrath.
Finally the Mother Confessor spoke, “Unless attacked first, you will take no action. You will report directly to me as soon as possible.”
“Yes, my Lady,” replied Cara with careful obedience, relieved.
“And you will see to it that your arrogant, insufferable, sorry hide makes it back to me in one piece,” Kahlan continued.
“Do you even question it?” smirked Cara.
Kahlan approached Cara with an odd look in her eyes. She grabbed Cara roughly by the nape of the neck and pressed her own forehead to Cara’s.
“I question it all the time. Please be careful.” Kahlan’s voice was husky.
“Only if you do the same,” growled Cara. They shared a brief, bruising kiss and then they were both gone, the Mord’Sith disappearing in one direction, the Mother Confessor in another.
***
When Cara reached the palace stables she found three horses awaiting her. Her own black stallion stood ready, awaiting his rider, the captain sat astride a gray courser, and a familiar figure straddled a chestnut mare.
“I don’t think this ride requires a blacksmith,” Cara called out to Belle as she came in sight.
“I heard the ruckus the captain’s arrival caused when he galloped by the smithy. I figured I would ride along and see what all the fuss was about,” answered Belle cheerfully.
“You’re no soldier.”
“And as far as I know there’s no battle yet. What’s the harm in taking a look?”
Cara shook her head furiously. What was wrong with everyone this morning? She had no time to debate with the fool woman after wasting time arguing with the Mother Confessor.
“Fine, but keep up,” Cara shot back as she mounted her horse, “and if fighting does break out, don’t be daft enough to try and help. You’ll only get in the way and probably get yourself killed.”
With that Cara spurred her horse forward at a sharp command, leaving the captain and Belle scrambling to catch up. They rode at a full gallop down the empty streets of Aydindril, the hot breath of the horses turning to steam in the cool morning air. The hooves of the horses clattered over cobblestone, the staccato sound puncturing the peace of the sleeping city. Cara reined in her stallion as they drew up to the main gates of Aydindril. She knew she was only seeing the massive oak and iron doors of the inner wall. Beyond these doors lay a second set, framed by a towering stone arch. Both sets of doors remained closed at night. There were other, smaller entrances through which merchants and guards could pass through at night if need be, but the broad main road into Aydindril was sealed each night at sunset and stayed close until sunrise.
Taking steps two at a time, Cara scaled the inner wall, Belle close on her heels. She strode across one of the gangways that attached the inner wall to the outer wall. In case the outer wall was breached the gangways could be pulled back to the inner wall, forcing any invaders to either create their own and risk having them be knocked down by the city’s defenders as they attempted to cross, or enter the rift between the two walls where archers could rain down death upon them from both the top of the inner wall and arrow slits placed throughout the wall. Cara was gratified to find the outer wall lined with archers standing at the ready. Cara approached the hulking form of General Etiel where he stood directly atop the arch over the main gate, his cold gray eyes gazing out at the road below him.
General Etiel was a loyal, war-hardened veteran of the Midlands’ war with D’Hara, even if his leadership was a bit uninspired, in Cara’s opinion. He was not happy serving under a D’Haran Mord’Sith, but he had made it clear that he respected the Mother Confessor’s word as law and would abide by her appointment of Cara as head of the Home Guard.
Without turning, he acknowledged Cara. “Mistress Cara, it seems we have visitors.”
“Indeed,” remarked Cara. “And have our guests decided to announce themselves?”
“Not as of yet.”
In the gray pre-dawn light, Cara could make out armored riders loosely organized on the road just outside the gates. The thin morning mist, so common to spring in Aydindril, swirled about the legs of their mounts and softened their outline, giving the would-be invaders an almost ethereal appearance. There seemed to be no order or rank amongst them and their armor varied from rider to rider. She saw D’Haran craftsmanship mixed with pieces that clearly bore the mark of the Midlands. Some of the warriors’ mail even seemed to have the exotic look of the Old World about them. The men’s choice of weapons appeared as diverse as their taste in armor. She saw long swords and short, spears and maces, axes and morning stars. Not one, however, carried a shield. Apparently they were either too foolish or too brave to think they needed the additional protection.
“What have they been doing then?”
“That’s the strange thing. They haven’t been doing anything at all. They galloped up to the main gate and then just stopped. They’ve been like that since they arrived. We’ve called down to them, asked them their business, told them to clear the road, but they don’t respond. Not a word. Not even among themselves. Every once in awhile one will look over their shoulder like they’re looking for something, but other than that they’re just sitting there.”
“And you’ve checked the perimeter of the city and there’s no other sign of anything strange?”
“Of course we checked. We haven’t found a thing.” The General shrugged. “I can’t figure it out.”
Cara felt an odd tension rising in her, a kind of nauseous anticipation that twisted her gut. For weeks, things had been off. Now armed men had shown up without warning at the gates of Aydindril, only to sit as mute as spirits just beyond the walls. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. There was danger here, but she was uncertain what it was. Here was the calm, but where was the storm? Cara turned the series of strange events over in her mind, trying yet again to see it from every angle, to find the missing pieces.
“General, double the guards at every entrance into the city. Make sure the mounted battalions are ready within the hour. Alert the palace that there needs to be no fewer than four guards with the Mother Confessor at all times until we get this sorted out.”
General Etiel nodded and turned to his lieutenants to assure that Cara’s orders were carried out. The sun broke over the eastern horizon. Beside Cara, Belle fidgeted with something in her pack. The blacksmith pulled out a long leather tube, narrow at one end, wider at the other. Cara thought she caught the glint of glass on the narrow end before Belle pressed it to her eye.
“Another one of your inventions?” asked Cara, one eyebrow arched in curiosity.
“Yes. It lets me see farther than any human eye could. It magnifies faraway objects, making them visible,” answered Belle.
“Convenient, especially in a situation like now. Perhaps you could have mentioned this before now.” Cara’s voice suggested Belle should have mentioned it a long time before now.
“You didn’t ask. It’s not a weapon, after all.”
Cara snorted and surveyed the plains that Belle was scanning. Other than the men below, little seemed out of place. “And what is it you see through your invention?”
Belle did not answer.
Cara turned to her. The blacksmith had gone white and was trembling. Her invention shook in her hands.
“Belle?”
Without a word, Belle handed Cara the instrument. Cara raised it to her eye. At first the effect was confusing as objects jumped suddenly closer, but Cara oriented herself quickly. A sweep of the plain revealed nothing.
“I don’t see anything,” said Cara irritably, her brows knitted in confusion.
“Not down there,” replied Belle, still quite pale. Her voice quavered. She pointed somewhere in the sky. “Up there.”
Bringing the instrument up again, Cara looked in the direction of Belle’s finger. At first there was nothing but pale blue sky and the occasional cloud. Then she saw it. Her heart skipped a beat. Not trusting her first inclination, Cara looked away and then looked back. It was still there and getting closer. What had started out as an indistinct blob of red began to take on definition and now Cara could most certainly make out a pair of huge wings with an enormous tail trailing behind.
Cara swept the skies a second time, and more blobs started to form out of the backdrop of naked sky. She counted, counted again, and, as if her brain was slow to comprehend what her eyes were telling her, she counted a third time.
“Six. There’s six,” she whispered almost inaudibly. She stared at Belle for a moment, who stared back at her with eyes filling with fear. It was as if the two of them were momentarily struck dumb. Cara could feel a black pit open up in her belly, threatening to swallow her, as her world tilted crazily on its axis. Then Belle blinked. At once, reality seemed to snap back into place and Cara grabbed the General’s arm with an iron grip.
“General, you need to get your men off this wall - right now,” ordered Cara.
“What? Why?”
Cara answered, her voice steely and deadly calm.
“Dragons.”
Part IV