I Will Not Surrender - Part X. Retribution (10/11)
Title: I Will Not Surrender - Part X. Retribution (10/11)
Author: burning_arrow
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: R/NC-17 (varies by chapter and I’m not going to rate each one)
Warnings: violence (not particularly graphic, but it’s there)
Disclaimer: My life would be so much more interesting if I owned Cara and Kahlan, but, alas, I don’t. However, thanks to Terry Goodkind and ABC for creating such wonderful playthings.
Word Count: 7,976
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 X.: Kahlan and Cara return to Aydindril, but there are a few unexpected surprises in the battle to reclaim the city.
A/N: Many apologies for this being so long in coming, but at least it’s a double-feature! I had been rolling on this fic, but then there was…life, and the very real tragedies that sometime accompany it.
A/N2: I got impatient, and posted these chapters before my beta could read them. Any errors are absolutely mine and mine alone.
A/N3: Links to previous chapters below, in case you’ve forgotten what’s happened up to this point…and I wouldn’t blame you if you have!
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX
Part X. Retribution
Cara watched the Honking Goose with a wary eye. She, Zedd, and Kahlan were tucked away in the shadows of an alleyway positioned across from the tavern, letting the darkness of night shield them from prying eyes. The night was cool and mist was gathering, the remnants of spring still clinging to air. It was a far cry from the bright sun that had warmed them as they had flown on Scarlet’s back on their return to the city. Once again, the feeling of heady elation had claimed Cara during their flight, but Kahlan was not so keen. When they had finally landed, while Zedd was exclaiming over the wonders of his first dragon ride, Cara had caught the Confessor whispering a prayer of thanks for her feet touching solid ground. Cara had smirked a little, but had also run a soothing hand down Kahlan’s arm.
After Scarlet had circled wide around Aydindril and any watchful guards that might notice a dragon soaring in the sky, she had dropped them in a glade several leagues north of the city. With promises to send word back with the Night Wisps, the three had departed on foot. They had reached sight of the city walls by late afternoon, and using an underground passage known only to Kahlan, they had slipped unnoticed into Aydindril.
Now, Cara shivered. She pulled her stolen cloak more tightly around her, carefully concealing any sign of her red leathers. She’d procured the cloak, along with the one Kahlan wore, from an inattentive housewife who’d been distracted by one of Zedd’s diversions, while Cara slipped into the kitchen’s back entrance. It chafed Cara’s pride - she was no thief - but her leathers and Kahlan’s white Confessor’s gown stuck out like Darken Rahl in a pink dress. Zedd wore the cloak Belle had packed for Cara, but there was nothing she could do to hide the old wizard’s towering height. Cloaks or no, if one of Prentax’s patrols had caught them out during curfew they would have been in serious trouble, but fortunately they had been able to avoid that particular problem.
They’d been waiting for almost a candlemark across from the tavern. Of course, with the curfew in place, there were no patrons coming in and out of the establishment, but the light of a low fire shown through the windows of the downstairs common room. Here and there, a candle flickered in the windows on the floor above as well. Clearly the place was still inhabited, but Cara would not let them enter until she was certain that she could trust the occupants. Kahlan peered intently over Cara’s shoulder, standing motionless and still. Zedd had settled himself on an empty barrel. He, too, remained quiet, but occasionally Cara would hear him shift, easing the ache in his bones from sitting in one position too long.
A tall figure in a dark colored cloak - navy blue perhaps, though Cara couldn’t tell for sure - appeared in the street across from them. He moved swiftly but carefully, frequently checking around him, presumably to be sure he was not caught by one of the patrols. Cara judged the figure to be male, and well-muscled too, based on the figure’s broad shoulders and wide gait. The man stopped in front of the Honking Goose and placed his hand on the handle of the door. He glanced around him slowly one more time, and Cara caught a glimpse of his face in what little light there was coming from the tavern’s windows.
“Alric!” she hissed loudly.
The man’s attention snapped to the mouth of the alleyway and he squinted into the shadows. Cara had recognized him as a sergeant in the Home Guard, and knew he was an honest, solid man. If they could reveal themselves to anyone, Alric was a good option. Cara stepped forward and lowered her hood. Alric’s brown eyes grew huge with surprise.
“Mistress Cara?!” he said in a low, uncertain voice, as if not believing what he was seeing.
“Yes, now get over here, you fool,” she whispered sharply.
Alric hurried across the road to them, joining them in the darkness. His eyes grew even larger once he took in the sight of the Mother Confessor and the First Wizard at Cara’s side.
“Mother Confessor, it is not safe for you here,” he whispered urgently.
“I’m well aware of that, sergeant,” Kahlan replied, but she gave him a small, comforting smile. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of safety while Aydindril languishes under Prentax. Now, what I need to know is if the Honking Goose is still safe for the resistance.”
“Yes, Mother Confessor,” replied the sergeant. “There is a meeting of the resistance leaders tonight at the tavern. Most of them have probably gathered by now, but I was delayed for nearly two candlemarks while hiding from a patrol. They’ve been getting worse every day.”
“Well then, I suggest we get inside before another patrol comes along,” said Kahlan.
“Of course. When we learned that there was a Confessor in the city, we welcomed the news. But now, to have the Mother Confessor returned to us, along with the First Wizard and Mistress Cara - the men will be beside themselves!” Alric whispered excitedly.
Gripping the soldier’s arm, Cara spun him back around before he could exit the alley. Her eyes narrowed. “Another Confessor?”
Alric grinned as he responded, “Yes, Confessor Dennee returned to Aydindril two days ago. She’s been helping to organize the resistance ever since.”
With that, he edged to the mouth of the alley and scanned the road in either direction. He crossed back to the tavern, motioning for them to follow. Cara hesitated, looking at Kahlan. Suddenly Cara’s mouth had gone dry. Kahlan’s eyes were hidden by the shadow of her hood, but the Confessor gave Cara’s hand a quick squeeze as she passed the Mord’Sith. Cara couldn’t tell if the gesture was for Kahlan’s sake or her own, though she wondered if it was for both.
***
After giving a brief nod to the barman, Alric shepherded them straight through the common room into a large store room. More than twenty people were crammed into the space, and after the chill night, the air in the room was stuffy and overly warm. Cara shrugged out of her cloak as she surveyed the room’s occupants. She saw a dozen faces from the Home Guard, a few local merchants, one or two people she didn’t recognize, and there, beside Belle and Merrilyn, at the far end of the room like a queen holding court, sat Dennee, draped in the black of her Confessor’s dress.
Next to Cara, Kahlan lowered the hood of her cloak, and a collective gasp went up. The soldiers quickly clapped their fists over their chests and tried to kneel, but the space was too cramped and Kahlan gently urged them to remain standing. Belle grinned broadly at them, and even Merry allowed herself a smile as she bowed her head and gave a small curtsy to the Mother Confessor. Only Dennee did not stir. After a moment, she rose slowly from her chair.
“Dennee,” said Kahlan.
“Mother Confessor,” replied Dennee quietly, her expression inscrutable. Cara stiffened, as the tension swirled around her.
Then Dennee threw herself across the room. Cara almost thought she meant to attack Kahlan, so fierce was her expression, but the next moment Dennee had Kahlan wrapped in her arms and was nearly sobbing into her shoulder. Kahlan returned the embrace warmly, a few stray tears escaping from her eyes.
“Thank the Spirits, you’re alive,” said Dennee, sniffling slightly as she leaned back to look into Kahlan’s face. She touched Kahlan’s cheek with a trembling hand. “When I heard that Aydindril had fallen, I could think of nothing but getting here as soon as I could. Kahlan, I’ve been such a stubborn fool. Will you ever forgive me?”
Kahlan drew Dennee back into a tight hug. “There is nothing to forgive, little sister. You would not be an Amnell if you were not at least a little stubborn. And trust me, I doubt one more Confessor in Aydindril would have prevented it from falling. I am glad that you were not here. But what of your son?”
“Edmund is with his grandmother. He is safe,” replied Dennee. She stepped back, swiping at her tears with the back of her hand. She looked first at Zedd, then at Cara, her gaze lingering longer over the Mord’Sith. Cara nearly twitched under the scrutiny, but she held Dennee’s gaze.
“It is good to see you again, Zedd.” Dennee paused. Her voice was chillier, but still cordial as she said, “And you as well, Cara.”
The wizard murmured his salutations, while Cara gave the Confessor a small nod. It was if the whole room exhaled at once. Doubtless, everyone in the room knew of the last, less than friendly parting between the Mother Confessor and her sister. With old wounds seemingly healed over, everyone could relax a tiny bit.
“So, would anyone care to tell me what has been going on in my city while I’ve been gone?” asked Kahlan.
***
The plan was set. Runners had been sent to the various resistance safe houses throughout the city and the Night Wisps had been sent back to inform Scarlet of her part in the plan. The attack would be in two days, during a meeting of Prentax with the Council of the Midlands. The wizard planned to declare himself Emperor and demand the fealty of the provinces. The distraction of the meeting seemed to be an ideal time to act. A diversionary force would attack the main gates of the Confessors Palace, led by Alric and several others, while the main body, including Zedd, Dennee, Belle, Merry, Kahlan and Cara, would enter the Palace through one of the secret passages known to Kahlan. This secondary force would take the Great Hall first, hopefully securing Prentax in the process. With the wizard defeated, they anticipated that his followers would scatter easily. Scarlet would free the rest of the dragons before Prentax could call them to him. It is a sound plan, thought Cara. The diversionary force would likely take heavy losses, but it could not be avoided, and she deemed it a necessary risk. Yes, it was a strong plan - if only it did not involve putting Kahlan in the middle of the battle.
Cara had taken her leave of the storage room once the details had been settled, needing to escape the press of too many bodies in the enclosed space. The tavern proprietor had given her a room on the second floor where Kahlan and she could spend the night. She left the candles unlit so she could stare out the window onto the street below without being noticed. Other than the runners disappearing into the night, the street had remained deserted. Once again, the impression of a city abandoned washed over her, setting her nerves on edge.
When the door opened behind her, Cara expected it to be Kahlan, and she was surprised to hear Dennee’s voice instead.
“I hear Councilor Timmick will declare Tamarang for Prentax,” said the Confessor as she joined Cara by the window. Cara glanced over, but Dennee was staring at the street below.
Cara’s lip curled into a sneer. “I am not surprised. Tamarang has rolled over for any conqueror that lays claim to the First Chair. I told Kahlan she should not trust him.”
“Interesting. I too warned her of Timmick’s ways not long before I left Aydindril,” responded Dennee.
“Sometimes, I think that Kahlan is too trusting,” murmured Cara.
“Once, I thought as you do. I’ve had a long time away from her to ponder it.” Dennee finally turned her gaze to Cara. Cara could see strong emotions brewing in the Confessor’s eyes. “Now, I see that Kahlan is not naïve. She probably suspected Timmick’s duplicitous nature as much as you or I, but she is sworn to uphold the law of the Midlands. She could not act against him without provoking the other provinces. Better to leave him be and keep the peace. I see that now.”
Cara snorted at this. She still had no stomach for the politics that was the daily bread of the Mother Confessor’s existence, though she could not deny that Dennee’s words held a certain logic.
Dennee went on, “And she trusted you. I thought that a mistake, also.”
“And now?” asked Cara. Her heart skipped a beat. She doubted that Dennee would ever forgive her for what she had done to the Confessor, but she did not want to continue being a wedge between Kahlan and her sister.
“I think Kahlan may have the right of it, yet again.” Dennee sighed. “Make no mistake. I don’t know if I will ever be able to look at you without seeing Valeria and my own son, dead in my arms. Even adopting Edmund cannot erase that. But, if everything these resistance fighters keep telling me is true, then my sister has made a wise choice in her lover.”
“That is what she keeps telling me,” said Cara, a little wistfully.
“Perhaps it is true, then.”
Dennee made her way back to the door. She opened it and took half a step across the threshold before she paused and looked at Cara again.
“When this battle begins, Cara, protect her.”
“With my life,” answered Cara solemnly.
“You know, for a Mord’Sith, I can nearly read you sometimes. I would almost swear you were telling me the truth just then,” remarked Dennee quietly, as if to herself.
Then she was gone, leaving Cara to mull over Dennee’s words.
***
Nearly one hundred people crammed into the dim passage. Between the heat of the bodies and the torches that burned at intervals along the wall, the temperature was stifling, but Cara took no notice. The air was thick with sweat and anticipation as they waited for the sounds of the diversionary squad’s attack. A vanguard of Home Guard soldiers was positioned in front of Cara. Beside her, Kahlan waited, her face calm and relaxed, but her body radiating tension.
Directly behind Cara, Belle fidgeted in the borrowed chainmail shirt that was a fraction too tight. The blacksmith’s hammer was tucked in its usual place on her belt and she held an axe - not the woodcutter’s hatchet she had used in her first battle, but a genuine double-edged war axe that one of the soldiers had procured for her. She twirled it nervously in her hand. Beside Belle, Merry looked tiny in the leather jerkin that was two sizes too large for her. It wasn’t much protection, but it was something, and the small woman wasn’t used to wearing anything as heavy as armor. The clerk squeezed the handles of her new daggers until her knuckles shown white. Her face was pale and drawn. Cara had nearly ordered both of them to stay behind, but Belle had insisted on securing the fireshots, and Merry had insisted on accompanying Belle. Cara had relented, accepting that they needed all the bodies that they could muster. Kahlan had assigned Dennee and a couple of fighters to protect and aid Belle and Merry. Dennee and Zedd had drawn up behind the blacksmith and the clerk, and they were both grim and silent.
Trailing away beyond the wizard and the Confessor, the rest of the fighters stretched down the narrow corridor, the end past the edge of Cara’s vision. In the tight space, the force appeared large, but Cara knew that they were outnumbered at least three to one and that a hundred fighters could easily be spread thin in the vast palace. She and Kahlan had ordered them to stay tight, focusing on key areas only - the main gates and the battlements surrounding it, the main courtyard, the entry hall and the Great Hall beyond it. The hidden passage they were in now led to the passage with the statue of Magda Searus. Once in the Palace, they would funnel into the entry hall, where they would break up into the smaller squads as Cara and Kahlan had assigned. One squad would secure the entry hall, while another that included Cara, Kahlan and Zedd would take the Great Hall and ensnare Prentax. The rest of the soldiers would attempt to overcome Prentax’s forces on the walls and at the gate, thereby securing a reprieve for the squad attacking the main gate from the outside. If all goes according to plan, that is, thought Cara sourly. She dropped her hand to her agiel, letting the sharp tingle cleanse her mind of worry.
Suddenly, the sound of muffled explosions reached their ears. Tension mounted as the fighters leaned forward as one, like hounds that had just spotted a fox. Kahlan reached for her daggers and Cara unsheathed her agiels. The pain stirred the blood lust in Cara and her lips twitched, almost curling into a smile.
“Lieutenant, take us out,” commanded the Mother Confessor.
***
Belle didn’t have time to think as she ran after Dennee, one hand latched onto Merry, dragging the clerk behind her. She heard the whistle of the ball an instant before the cobblestones just a few paces away disintegrated into smoke and rubble. Shards of rock slashed at them, blown outward in all directions. A sharp sting and the warmth on her cheek told her that one of the shards had sliced across her face. She increased her pace, driven on by cold fear. They needed to get under cover, fast.
The three women reached a small gate that opened on stairs leading to the Palace walls. They stumbled inside. No enemy soldiers were present and they took a moment to catch their breath.
“You said the fireshots wouldn’t work,” growled Dennee, her eyes blazing.
“I said that they would stop working after a shot or two, maybe three,” retorted Belle. She jabbed a finger out through the gate, pointing at the walls across the main courtyard. At several points along the walls chunks were missing from the main walkways, black smoke billowing up into the blue sky. “Those fireshots have already malfunctioned and I guarantee you that some of those explosions took out at least a few of the enemy.”
After the Mother Confessor’s fighters had overrun the entry hall, making short work of Prentax’s men, the squad of which Belle and Merry were part split off from the main force with one goal in mind - capture and destroy all the fireshots. Dennee had divided their small group in two, sending the Home Guard soldiers to the other side of the courtyard to secure the fireshots there. Each group would take out the fireshots on their side one at a time, working their way along the wall and converging on the central walkway above the main gate.
“We need to find the one that isn’t faulty,” gasped Merry, chest still heaving as she caught her breath.
“Prentax had it mounted over the main gate,” said Belle.
“Well, there’s only one way to get there. Follow me and stay close,” Dennee ordered as she began sprinting up the steps. The Confessor seemed to be fueled by a barely contained rage, and Belle and Merry struggled to keep her in sight.
When they reached the top of the wall, Dennee was already engaged with two of Prentax’s men near an intact fireshot. With her black dress swirling about her and her silver daggers glinting in the sun, the Confessor appeared as a thunderstorm transformed into living flesh. The soldiers fell quickly before her onslaught. Behind her, Merry and Belle rolled the fireshot to the edge of the wall and tipped it over the battlement. It smashed, twisted and useless, on the ground below.
The trio worked their way quickly along the wall, dispatching enemies and fireshots alike. Just as Belle had promised, three of the fireshots already lay in blackened, twisted heaps of metal. Merry and Belle sent another fireshot sailing out over the wall. Belle could see the Home Guard making their way along the other wall, similarly disposing of the weapons.
Finally they stood no more than twenty paces from the final fireshot. Two Mord’Sith blocked their way, each exuding a confident, deadly grace as they approached slowly. Belle gripped Dennee’s arm before the Confessor could launch herself at the leather-clad warriors.
“Let me. I have a special treat for them,” said Belle in a low voice.
The blacksmith sauntered forward to meet the Mord’Sith. She slid the axe into a loop at the back of her belt and faced the women empty handed.
“Hello, ladies,” said Belle, crossing her arms over her chest.
The Mord’Sith hesitated, apparently confused by Belle’s unflustered reaction. They were used to being feared by most people, and Belle’s ease confounded them. They frowned. Then one of them shrugged at the other, and they charged Belle together, each jabbing an agiel into the blacksmith’s side. Baffled trepidation flitted across the Mord’Siths’ faces when she did not cry out. Instead she grinned at them.
“I take it neither of you have had the pleasure of meeting a pristinely ungifted one before?” she asked calmly as she grasped their agiels, one in each hand, and yanked the weapons away from the Mord’Sith. She backhanded both of them in the face, and they reeled back.
Turning to Dennee, Belle said, ”They’re all yours.”
With a snarl, Dennee fell on the Mord’Sith, her lips drawn back like a feral animal. Belle thought that the Confessor would have used her daggers, but she was shocked when Dennee wrapped one of her hands around each of the women’s throats, her fingers digging into their flesh. Pure hate flooded the Confessor’s features just before her eyes swirled black.
“Cara Mason may yet live, but I will never forgive your kind,” she growled low, almost as if talking to herself. “Now die.”
The women screamed in unison as the power of confession tore through them. The Mord’Sith fell to the ground, twisting in agony. Though she had seen much bloodshed in the past weeks, the brutality before her left Belle breathless, bile rising in her throat. Merry buried her face in Belle’s shoulder as if to block out the sight. Belle looked at the Confessor standing before her, wondering what had happened to her to fill her with such cruelty.
Dennee blinked and swallowed, and she seemed to shrink as the hatred drained from her face. The Mord’Sith were still and lifeless.
“Let’s finish this,” the Confessor said coldly, motioning at the last fireshot.
Belle nodded numbly. She went to take a step forward when the walkway in front of her seemed to explode. All three women were thrown back as two massive red bodies collided with and rolled over the wall, dropping into the main courtyard below. Two dragons landed in an immense, snarling heap of claws and fangs on the cobblestones. Belle scrambled to the edge of the wall, scarcely believing what she was seeing. Her heart pounded from nearly being smashed beneath the beasts that now wrestled with each other below her. One of the dragons pinned the other to the ground, only to be thrown back by a powerful kick from the other’s hind legs. Belle knew the collarless dragon, still on her back, must be Scarlet. Apparently, the dragon had not been entirely successful in freeing the last of the enslaved dragons before Prentax called to them.
Scarlet rolled to her feet and roared before charging the smaller but faster, collared dragon. He dodged the attack, smashing his tail into Scarlet’s face. She responded by burying her teeth deep in the tail, dragging him backwards. He slashed at her face with his front claws, and she was forced to release his tail in order to avoid being hit. They both snarled and began to circle each other warily. Atop the wall Belle, Merry, and Dennee watched in awe. Yet Belle could not help but notice the way one of Scarlet’s wings drooped at her side, and the dragon’s own blood covered her muzzle, welling up from a dozen deep cuts.
“We’ve got to help Scarlet,” Belle said.
“What, are you crazy?” replied Merry. Dennee looked at her as if she had grown a second head. Belle ignored their expressions as she searched around her. Her eyes fell on the last fireshot, still intact. The one she knew would not blow up on her if she used it. There was a gap in the walkway from where the dragons had slammed into the wall. Belle peered over the edge. There was nothing but air and the cobblestones of the courtyard far below. She swallowed and looked across to the fireshot. She could make it. At least she thought she could.
“Belle, no,” Merry said warningly.
The blacksmith looked back down into the courtyard. The collared dragon had Scarlet pinned again and was shredding the membrane of one of her wings in his teeth. Scarlet roared in fury and pain. The sound decided Belle. Taking a deep breath and a few running steps, the blacksmith launched herself across the gap.
For a moment she thought she wouldn’t make it. She seemed to be dropping too quickly and her heart caught in her throat. Then her boots hit solid ground and she half-rolled, half-skidded forward. The impact jarred her bones and her chin slammed into the stones of the walkway, but adrenaline coursed through her, and the pain seemed far away.
Belle clambered over to the fireshot on hands and knees. The Creator must have smiled on her because the weapon was still loaded. Straining, she rolled the heavy bulk into position, pointing the fireshot down into the courtyard. She sighted down the length of the fireshot, making sure it was aimed at the collared dragon. Frantically, she clawed for her knife and steel, yanking them out. Taking one more glance to assure that the fireshot was still lined up, she struck the steel and the fuse caught.
The boom echoed across the courtyard. Both dragons’ heads swung around to face her. Time seemed to slow down as the ball whizzed through the air. Belle watched as it closed in on its target - and missed by scarce feet. The collared dragon’s eyes narrowed and Belle heard him inhale. She threw herself down, rolling as far away from the courtyard as she could. Flames shot past her, arcing in sky above her. The air itself seemed to be singed as the stones underneath her warmed alarmingly. How could I miss a target as big as a dragon? Belle thought miserably as she curled up against the far battlement, her arms wrapped over her head.
The fire stopped but Belle heard the sound of claws meeting stone. She knew with dreadful certainty that the dragon was climbing up the wall toward her. Panic clouded her mind. Her body felt frozen, her muscles stiff and unresponsive.
“Belle, run!” shrieked Merry, terror raising the pitch of the clerk’s voice.
Merry’s scream penetrated the fog shrouding Belle’s brain. The blacksmith shoved herself to her feet. Before she could take a step, however, she tumbled forward as the wall lurched and swayed. Her knee cracked against the stone as she fell and she hissed as pain shot through her leg. She tried regaining her feet, but her knee screamed in protest and refused to support her weight. The sound of rending metal filled the air and the wall trembled again. The harsh scrape of scrabbling claws on stone grew louder. The dragon appeared over the edge of the wall. Belle watched helpless and exposed as it pulled its entire body onto the wall, its front legs straddling Belle where she hunched. A cold yellow eye fixed itself upon her, and Belle stared at her death.
Then with a great sweep of wings, the dragon erupted into the air. Dust and smoke swirled around Belle as the powerful down strokes sent eddies spinning off in every direction. Disbelief mingled with exhilaration as she realized that she was not going to die. She let out a loud whoop. A triumphant roar from below made her jump. Careful to avoid hitting her wounded knee, the blacksmith clamored to get a better view of the courtyard. Scarlet stood tall and proud, the two mangled halves of the collar at her feet. The dragon caught sight of the blacksmith and the dragon tilted her head, as if she were giving Belle a nod of approval.
“THANK YOU, HUMAN.”
Speechless, Belle simply waved in acknowledgement. The great beast gave herself a shake and inspected her damaged wing. She stretched it out to its full length, the tip almost touching the far wall of the courtyard and flapped it once. Seemingly satisfied, the dragon’s gaze sought out the blacksmith again.
“GIVE MY THANKS TO THE PROTECTOR AND HER MATE AS WELL. FOR HUMANS, THEY ARE QUITE…EXCEPTIONAL. NOW, I MUST GO. I AM SICK OF THE STENCH OF MEN - NO OFFENSE INTENDED.”
“None taken,” said Belle in a weak voice, still stunned that a dragon was speaking to her. Despite her injured wing, Scarlet’s take off was somehow more dignified and graceful than the smaller dragons had been. Before Belle even had a chance to say good-bye, the magnificent creature threw out her wings and launched herself into the air with a powerful leap that cleared the palace wall. Her broad wings caught the breeze instantly and with a couple of strong wing beats, the dragon wheeled about and headed due east, quickly disappearing into the blue.
Spent, Belle slumped down, her back against the battlement. Fatigue claimed her as the adrenaline drained away. Her knee throbbed relentlessly. But her chest swelled with pride as she looked across the gap to Merry and Dennee.
“You have wool for brains, you idiot!” yelled Merry. Belle grinned at her, and the clerk stamped her foot. “Stay there. We’ll come around and get you.”
“I’ll be here,” the blacksmith shouted back, trying to look sufficiently chastised for Merry’s sake. As the Confessor and the clerk turned to go, Belle let her head fall back on the edge of the wall. She gazed up at the clear sky above her where she could just make out the smaller dragon still circling lazily overhead. A breeze cooled the sweat on her brow. She smiled again. Mumbling contentedly to herself, she said, “I’m not going anywhere.”
***
Chaos reigned in the Great Hall. Bodies crashed into one another, blades flashing, the screeching of metal on metal ringing in the air, and above it all the explosions of magic as the First Wizard and the traitorous Prentax traded enchanted volleys. Led by Cara and Kahlan, the resistance had entered the Great Hall just as the meeting of the Council had begun. Zedd had magically sealed all exits but the main entrance, leaving the only path of escape through the Home Guard soldiers. Terrified councilors had scattered like rats that had just been discovered in the pantry. Kahlan’s forces had orders to let them pass - all except Timmick, who had cowered at the foot of the First Chair next to his new master.
The Mother Confessor and her Mord’Sith met the first wave of Prentax’s soldiers together. They fought side by side, elegant and deadly, dancing with one another. They moved in complete synchrony, always perfectly aware of the other’s presence - Cara dropping as Kahlan’s dagger whistled overhead, only to rise to deflect a blow directed at Kahlan’s blindside - the Confessor spinning out of the way as the Mord’Sith moved past her to strike. They flowed with the unstoppable force of a tidal wave across the Hall, crushing any resistance in their path. But Cara was forced to break off. She had a specific task to do. She was the magic against the magic, and it fell to her to capture Prentax so that he could face the Mother Confessor’s justice.
Now, Cara carved a path for herself, keeping Prentax always in her sights. The wizard seemed to take no notice as the Mord’Sith relentlessly stalked through the throng, cutting down enemies and shoving aside allies in her pursuit. Another figure wrapped in tight leather crossed her path, one of the turncoat Mord’Sith about which Berdine had warned her. Cara sneered as her agiels struck out like vicious snakes. The foolish woman was dead before she hit the ground, but Cara took no notice as she moved on. Her focus was for Prentax alone, and she watched him as a hawk watches an unsuspecting mouse.
Cara reached the wizard in the middle of the melee. Two of his men, former Dragon Corps both, and another Mord’Sith battled by his side. Suddenly Prentax’s yellow eyes turned to Cara. He had the audacity to smile at her. Cara could feel her blood begin to boil, her cold exterior melting away with the fury of what this man had done to Kahlan, to Aydindril, to herself. He flicked his wrist, almost casually. She blocked his spell just as easily with an open palm, but it gave his guards enough time to close ranks around her. She snarled as she blocked a blow from one of the Dragon Corp deserters, and thrust an agiel into the side of the Mord’Sith. A kick sent the other D’Haran soldier tilting away on unbalanced legs. Two of the Home Guard caught him and swiftly brought him down.
One of Cara’s agiels was ripped away by the wizard’s Mord’Sith. Cara used her free hand to yank a dagger from a sheath at the waist of the Dragon Corp guard. She jammed the blade up to the hilt under his arm where his armor gave him no protection, and he dropped away from her. Cara’s attention fell on the Mord’Sith, who now brandished Cara’s agiel as well as her own. Even doubly armed, the inexperienced, younger Mord’Sith was no equal to the woman who had once been Darken Rahl’s fiercest Sister of the Agiel. After a short, brutal struggle, Cara snapped the Mord’Sith’s neck and reclaimed her agiel.
Prentax wasn’t smiling anymore. He raised a hand halfway to shoulder height, but thought better of it when Cara raised her own palm. Every instinct in her cried for her to destroy him, but without him they might not find the Heart Stone. So Cara and Prentax stood only paces from one another, blazing green eyes boring into flat, resentful yellow eyes, as the battle raged around them.
Suddenly, a cry echoed from across the hall. Cara knew it was Kahlan, knew the Confessor was in trouble. She turned, just for a second. Her eyes sought Kahlan out, finding her near the First Chair. The Mother Confessor was being held by four of Prentax’s soldiers, her daggers strewn in front of her. Two men each held an arm, keeping Kahlan’s hands away from anyone, unable to fight or confess. Cara and Kahlan’s eyes met. Then Kahlan’s eyes went wide as Cara felt the blade slide between her ribs.
Stunned, Cara stumbled backwards as her gaze fell to the hilt of a dagger jutting from her chest. Her lungs burned and she could not seem to draw enough air. She coughed and red foam spattered her lips. Shock rippled through her. She rocked on her feet as she reached for the dagger, only half-believing what she was seeing. A harsh laugh brought her gaze back to Prentax. His face contorted into a mask of rage.
“You have been nothing but a thorn in my side, Mord’Sith. I’ve lost one of the stones and almost all of my dragons because of you. I should have killed you the moment I laid eyes on you,” he snarled. Then his face transformed into a look of triumph. “You may be able to deflect my magic, Mord’Sith, but you are as mortal as any woman with a blade in your heart. And I will have the Mother Confessor and the wizard at my command. You see, in the end, I will always win.”
Cara cursed her own stupidity as she wrenched the blade from her body. She swayed dangerously, but her anger propelled her forward a step. She glowered at the wizard, her fist tight around the dagger’s hilt. His smile fading, Prentax looked alarmed for a moment, but as Cara tried to take another step forward she faltered. Her muscles felt suddenly useless and she labored for breath. Her blood roared in her ears.
Cara’s legs buckled and she slumped to her knees. The knife slipped unnoticed from suddenly numb fingers. She knew she was dying. The blade had not struck her heart, but that only meant she would die more slowly. She had died before, sometimes quickly, sometimes not, but always there was the possibility of return, whether by the Breath of Life or the Keeper’s bargain. There was no one to bring her back this time. Her heart clenched as she thought of Kahlan. Cara wanted to live, wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.
Another cry, more anguished than the last, brought Cara’s head up, though it seemed to be growing so heavy. Across the Great Hall, she could see Kahlan thrashing in the arms of the soldiers that held her, the Confessor’s eyes fixed on Cara. Cara’s heart slammed against her ribs, as if trying to escape her chest. Pain radiated out in every direction, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the wound or from the emotions that poured through her. There was so much she hadn’t told Kahlan, so much the Confessor deserved to hear. Knowing how little time was left, Cara silently reached out, trying desperately to communicate everything she had left unsaid as their eyes connected. She held Kahlan’s gaze as long as she could, throwing her mute words into the ether. Then a wave of darkness overcame her and she felt herself falling. Somewhere far away she could hear Kahlan screaming.
***
Watching with helpless horror as the wizard stabbed Cara, Kahlan felt almost as if Prentax’s blade had pierced her as well. Miraculously, Cara remained standing and even staggered forward toward the wizard, wielding his own knife against him. For a moment, wild, desperate hope filled Kahlan that somehow the wound was not as serious as it had first appeared. Then Cara stumbled and fell. Kahlan could see the blood glistening on Cara’s lips, could see the stain, darker than Cara’s leathers, spreading across Cara’s chest. Kahlan searched frantically for someone to call out to, someone who would help the Mord’Sith, even as she could not. She located Zedd, but even as she spotted the wizard, he was cornered by two Mord’Sith, and then knocked to the ground by a sharp blow to the back of his head. The wizard lay pale and motionless on the stone floor. Whether he was unconscious or dead she had no way of knowing. Panic was building in her throat. Everywhere Kahlan looked her men were being overwhelmed by Prentax’s forces.
A cry was ripped from her mouth as her eyes turned back to Cara. Kahlan tried futilely to yank her arms from her captors, straining with all her might to wrest her hands from them. Across the hall, head drooping, the Mord’Sith was on her knees. Blood had soaked through most of the upper half of her leathers, yet at Kahlan’s cry Cara’s head rose unsteadily. Kahlan’s heart surged forward as jade eyes met her own. The Confessor gasped. For the first time since Kahlan had known Cara, she could read the emotions written clearly in the Mord’Sith’s eyes. Cara was offering Kahlan her heart as plainly as if she were saying the words out loud. Kahlan’s heart pounded out its own response. Then Cara’s eyes closed and she tumbled backwards. For a brief second Kahlan stared at the still figure of her lover, her mind refusing to believe what her eyes were seeing. Then she screamed.
As the sounds of agony and fury tore their way out of her throat, Kahlan felt the sudden rush of her magic rising in her. This was not the controlled magic of Confession, but something much darker and more primal. Kahlan had felt this magic before, and now, in her despair and anger, she welcomed it. Red washed over her vision. Her body began to shudder violently as the forces within her swelled menacingly inside of her veins. Her skin sizzled and her joints popped as the magic raced through her limbs. The power felt as if it would tear her apart, but she knew it would not. With it she would be strong. With it she would make them all pay.
“What’s going on?” shouted one of the guards restraining her.
“I don’t know,” yelled another as he tightened his grip on her arm.
“The Spirits save us, it’s the Blood Rage!” cried a third as he released his grasp in terror.
“You fool, don’t let her go. Someone get the Rada’Han!” shouted the last.
But it was too late for them. Kahlan screamed again as the Con Dar took hold of her. Blue-silver lightning arced across her skin, blasting her captors away from her. She raised both hands, but it was an unnecessary gesture. Unbidden, the power of Confession rolled off of her in waves, swells in a storm, each bigger than the last. Racing out from her, the magic passed through every person in the Great Hall, Home Guard and traitor alike. The palpable force of her fury was so strong that many of the soldiers stumbled as it slammed into them. Then one after another, each dropped to his knees.
As one, they called out, “Command us, Confessor.”
The Mother Confessor looked out at the sea of faces turned in reverence toward her. She viewed them all as if they were insects. The Mord’Sith still alive began to twitch and howl in pain as the deadly power of confession tore their souls apart. Kahlan felt no pity for them. She felt nothing but cold, distilled fury. Her lover was dead. Nothing else mattered.
“Enough!” shouted Kahlan, her voice echoing off the walls. “You will revive Cara, or you will die in silence.”
Instantly the Mord’Sith quieted, though their features were contorted in agony. As one, the Mord’Sith tried crawling to Cara’s still form, but even the enraged Mother Confessor could see from their tortured movements that they would die before ever making it. This only served to stoke Kahlan’s rage.
“Help them!” she ordered. Men rushed forward to fulfill her command, scooping up the Mord’Sith in their arms. Cara’s body was lost amid the scramble of activity. Then the men stepped back. The Mord’Sith lay like a wreath around Cara - and every single one was plainly dead.
Eventually, one man came forward toward Kahlan, visibly quaking with fear.
“Mistress, the Mord’Sith failed,” he said breathlessly.
The soldier wore the uniform of a D’Haran officer. He had been one of Prentax’s men and therefore as guilty as Prentax himself. Kahlan reached for the soldier’s own knife and bellowed her rage as she carelessly slashed his throat. She was to be robbed of the one chance to save Cara. The thought turned to ashes in her mind, blasted by the furnace of her bloodlust. Only vengeance was left to her.
“Bring me Prentax.”
Men leapt to their feet, and the wizard was dragged roughly forward, though he offered no resistance. The light of confession glowed in his eyes as much as it did in the others.
“How may I serve you, Mother Confessor?” he said quietly, his yellow eyes brimming with enchanted love.
Her hand slack at her side, the knife dripping hot blood onto the cool stone floor, Kahlan contemplated the man standing before her. Each punishment, each torture she could devise for him seemed less than he deserved. Her body nearly hummed with her barely contained rage.
As she scrutinized him, another soldier pushed forward through the crowd. Part of Kahlan’s mind vaguely recognized him as Theron Ridgewater, a lieutenant in the Home Guard. She thought she should feel regret at his confession - after all he did have a wife and two small children, and had done nothing but serve her loyally - but as her eyes shifted to him she felt nothing but the heat burning in the pit of her stomach.
“Confessor, there is something-“
“You will not interrupt me until I am done with Prentax,” she cut him off.
“But-“
A sharp glance from her silenced him.
Kahlan returned her attention to the wizard standing before her. When she spoke her voice was cold and brittle. “You have taken everything from me - my city, my friends, and, most importantly, my love.”
Her voice cracked at this point. A thin trickle of grief began to work its way through her fury, but she shoved it away from her. She pulled the Con Dar around her like armor. While its magic swirled and throbbed in her veins she would not feel the pain that was sure to come.
“Mistress, I am sorry!” Prentax cried out.
“Silence!” spat Kahlan, another wave of red sliding across her vision. Her blood pounded as the magic prickled and pulsed under her skin. The silver badger on her wrist began to glow, first a dull orange, then brightening to a piercing yellow-white light. She could have sworn that she saw it move, and the guardian’s words echoed in her mind. Remember, the badger is the most dangerous when defending his home. She dropped the knife and stroked the badger’s smooth back. Metallic fur rippled under her fingertips and the badger’s legs released their grasp on her arm. She held the animal in her palm. It was still metal, yet its eyes gleamed with awareness, somehow alive and not at the same time.
Turning her eyes from the badger, she spoke again. “Where is the Heart Stone?”
“It is here, Mistress,” replied Prentax, eagerly pointing at his chest. “I used my magic to place it close to my heart so that it would always be with me.”
Kahlan felt the metal creature in her hand twitch. She knew what to do.
The Mother Confessor picked up the badger by its back and slammed it, claws first, into Prentax’s chest. The wizard screamed in agony as the creature began to dig into his chest. He slammed his eyes shut, but Kahlan grabbed his jaw and yanked his head toward her.
“Look at me!” she hissed.
Yellow eyes stared into hers, horror and pain mixing in them. The wizard wailed as the badger burrowed even deeper, but he followed his mistress’s order, keeping his eyes fixed on her face. His legs trembled and gave out, forcing him to his knees, but she wrenched his head back so that he would still be forced to look at her.
“Know that the pain you feel now is nothing compared to the pain you have caused,” she snarled at him.
“Ye-yes..yes, M-m-mistress,” he stammered. “Forgive me.”
Then he shrieked, his mouth gaping wide. There was a crunch and a flash of blinding blue light as the badger crushed the Heart Stone. The badger made one more lunge and the wizard jerked violently. Then the light faded from his eyes, but they did not close. They stared vacantly up at Kahlan. Even in death, Prentax obeyed his mistress.
Kahlan let the wizard’s body fall back. It hit the ground with a sickening thud. She gazed at it, waiting for the sense of triumph that should accompany the vanquishing of an enemy. It didn’t come.
Instead, she wondered who would be the next to die.
Part XI
Author: burning_arrow
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: R/NC-17 (varies by chapter and I’m not going to rate each one)
Warnings: violence (not particularly graphic, but it’s there)
Disclaimer: My life would be so much more interesting if I owned Cara and Kahlan, but, alas, I don’t. However, thanks to Terry Goodkind and ABC for creating such wonderful playthings.
Word Count: 7,976
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 X.: Kahlan and Cara return to Aydindril, but there are a few unexpected surprises in the battle to reclaim the city.
A/N: Many apologies for this being so long in coming, but at least it’s a double-feature! I had been rolling on this fic, but then there was…life, and the very real tragedies that sometime accompany it.
A/N2: I got impatient, and posted these chapters before my beta could read them. Any errors are absolutely mine and mine alone.
A/N3: Links to previous chapters below, in case you’ve forgotten what’s happened up to this point…and I wouldn’t blame you if you have!
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX
Part X. Retribution
Cara watched the Honking Goose with a wary eye. She, Zedd, and Kahlan were tucked away in the shadows of an alleyway positioned across from the tavern, letting the darkness of night shield them from prying eyes. The night was cool and mist was gathering, the remnants of spring still clinging to air. It was a far cry from the bright sun that had warmed them as they had flown on Scarlet’s back on their return to the city. Once again, the feeling of heady elation had claimed Cara during their flight, but Kahlan was not so keen. When they had finally landed, while Zedd was exclaiming over the wonders of his first dragon ride, Cara had caught the Confessor whispering a prayer of thanks for her feet touching solid ground. Cara had smirked a little, but had also run a soothing hand down Kahlan’s arm.
After Scarlet had circled wide around Aydindril and any watchful guards that might notice a dragon soaring in the sky, she had dropped them in a glade several leagues north of the city. With promises to send word back with the Night Wisps, the three had departed on foot. They had reached sight of the city walls by late afternoon, and using an underground passage known only to Kahlan, they had slipped unnoticed into Aydindril.
Now, Cara shivered. She pulled her stolen cloak more tightly around her, carefully concealing any sign of her red leathers. She’d procured the cloak, along with the one Kahlan wore, from an inattentive housewife who’d been distracted by one of Zedd’s diversions, while Cara slipped into the kitchen’s back entrance. It chafed Cara’s pride - she was no thief - but her leathers and Kahlan’s white Confessor’s gown stuck out like Darken Rahl in a pink dress. Zedd wore the cloak Belle had packed for Cara, but there was nothing she could do to hide the old wizard’s towering height. Cloaks or no, if one of Prentax’s patrols had caught them out during curfew they would have been in serious trouble, but fortunately they had been able to avoid that particular problem.
They’d been waiting for almost a candlemark across from the tavern. Of course, with the curfew in place, there were no patrons coming in and out of the establishment, but the light of a low fire shown through the windows of the downstairs common room. Here and there, a candle flickered in the windows on the floor above as well. Clearly the place was still inhabited, but Cara would not let them enter until she was certain that she could trust the occupants. Kahlan peered intently over Cara’s shoulder, standing motionless and still. Zedd had settled himself on an empty barrel. He, too, remained quiet, but occasionally Cara would hear him shift, easing the ache in his bones from sitting in one position too long.
A tall figure in a dark colored cloak - navy blue perhaps, though Cara couldn’t tell for sure - appeared in the street across from them. He moved swiftly but carefully, frequently checking around him, presumably to be sure he was not caught by one of the patrols. Cara judged the figure to be male, and well-muscled too, based on the figure’s broad shoulders and wide gait. The man stopped in front of the Honking Goose and placed his hand on the handle of the door. He glanced around him slowly one more time, and Cara caught a glimpse of his face in what little light there was coming from the tavern’s windows.
“Alric!” she hissed loudly.
The man’s attention snapped to the mouth of the alleyway and he squinted into the shadows. Cara had recognized him as a sergeant in the Home Guard, and knew he was an honest, solid man. If they could reveal themselves to anyone, Alric was a good option. Cara stepped forward and lowered her hood. Alric’s brown eyes grew huge with surprise.
“Mistress Cara?!” he said in a low, uncertain voice, as if not believing what he was seeing.
“Yes, now get over here, you fool,” she whispered sharply.
Alric hurried across the road to them, joining them in the darkness. His eyes grew even larger once he took in the sight of the Mother Confessor and the First Wizard at Cara’s side.
“Mother Confessor, it is not safe for you here,” he whispered urgently.
“I’m well aware of that, sergeant,” Kahlan replied, but she gave him a small, comforting smile. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of safety while Aydindril languishes under Prentax. Now, what I need to know is if the Honking Goose is still safe for the resistance.”
“Yes, Mother Confessor,” replied the sergeant. “There is a meeting of the resistance leaders tonight at the tavern. Most of them have probably gathered by now, but I was delayed for nearly two candlemarks while hiding from a patrol. They’ve been getting worse every day.”
“Well then, I suggest we get inside before another patrol comes along,” said Kahlan.
“Of course. When we learned that there was a Confessor in the city, we welcomed the news. But now, to have the Mother Confessor returned to us, along with the First Wizard and Mistress Cara - the men will be beside themselves!” Alric whispered excitedly.
Gripping the soldier’s arm, Cara spun him back around before he could exit the alley. Her eyes narrowed. “Another Confessor?”
Alric grinned as he responded, “Yes, Confessor Dennee returned to Aydindril two days ago. She’s been helping to organize the resistance ever since.”
With that, he edged to the mouth of the alley and scanned the road in either direction. He crossed back to the tavern, motioning for them to follow. Cara hesitated, looking at Kahlan. Suddenly Cara’s mouth had gone dry. Kahlan’s eyes were hidden by the shadow of her hood, but the Confessor gave Cara’s hand a quick squeeze as she passed the Mord’Sith. Cara couldn’t tell if the gesture was for Kahlan’s sake or her own, though she wondered if it was for both.
***
After giving a brief nod to the barman, Alric shepherded them straight through the common room into a large store room. More than twenty people were crammed into the space, and after the chill night, the air in the room was stuffy and overly warm. Cara shrugged out of her cloak as she surveyed the room’s occupants. She saw a dozen faces from the Home Guard, a few local merchants, one or two people she didn’t recognize, and there, beside Belle and Merrilyn, at the far end of the room like a queen holding court, sat Dennee, draped in the black of her Confessor’s dress.
Next to Cara, Kahlan lowered the hood of her cloak, and a collective gasp went up. The soldiers quickly clapped their fists over their chests and tried to kneel, but the space was too cramped and Kahlan gently urged them to remain standing. Belle grinned broadly at them, and even Merry allowed herself a smile as she bowed her head and gave a small curtsy to the Mother Confessor. Only Dennee did not stir. After a moment, she rose slowly from her chair.
“Dennee,” said Kahlan.
“Mother Confessor,” replied Dennee quietly, her expression inscrutable. Cara stiffened, as the tension swirled around her.
Then Dennee threw herself across the room. Cara almost thought she meant to attack Kahlan, so fierce was her expression, but the next moment Dennee had Kahlan wrapped in her arms and was nearly sobbing into her shoulder. Kahlan returned the embrace warmly, a few stray tears escaping from her eyes.
“Thank the Spirits, you’re alive,” said Dennee, sniffling slightly as she leaned back to look into Kahlan’s face. She touched Kahlan’s cheek with a trembling hand. “When I heard that Aydindril had fallen, I could think of nothing but getting here as soon as I could. Kahlan, I’ve been such a stubborn fool. Will you ever forgive me?”
Kahlan drew Dennee back into a tight hug. “There is nothing to forgive, little sister. You would not be an Amnell if you were not at least a little stubborn. And trust me, I doubt one more Confessor in Aydindril would have prevented it from falling. I am glad that you were not here. But what of your son?”
“Edmund is with his grandmother. He is safe,” replied Dennee. She stepped back, swiping at her tears with the back of her hand. She looked first at Zedd, then at Cara, her gaze lingering longer over the Mord’Sith. Cara nearly twitched under the scrutiny, but she held Dennee’s gaze.
“It is good to see you again, Zedd.” Dennee paused. Her voice was chillier, but still cordial as she said, “And you as well, Cara.”
The wizard murmured his salutations, while Cara gave the Confessor a small nod. It was if the whole room exhaled at once. Doubtless, everyone in the room knew of the last, less than friendly parting between the Mother Confessor and her sister. With old wounds seemingly healed over, everyone could relax a tiny bit.
“So, would anyone care to tell me what has been going on in my city while I’ve been gone?” asked Kahlan.
***
The plan was set. Runners had been sent to the various resistance safe houses throughout the city and the Night Wisps had been sent back to inform Scarlet of her part in the plan. The attack would be in two days, during a meeting of Prentax with the Council of the Midlands. The wizard planned to declare himself Emperor and demand the fealty of the provinces. The distraction of the meeting seemed to be an ideal time to act. A diversionary force would attack the main gates of the Confessors Palace, led by Alric and several others, while the main body, including Zedd, Dennee, Belle, Merry, Kahlan and Cara, would enter the Palace through one of the secret passages known to Kahlan. This secondary force would take the Great Hall first, hopefully securing Prentax in the process. With the wizard defeated, they anticipated that his followers would scatter easily. Scarlet would free the rest of the dragons before Prentax could call them to him. It is a sound plan, thought Cara. The diversionary force would likely take heavy losses, but it could not be avoided, and she deemed it a necessary risk. Yes, it was a strong plan - if only it did not involve putting Kahlan in the middle of the battle.
Cara had taken her leave of the storage room once the details had been settled, needing to escape the press of too many bodies in the enclosed space. The tavern proprietor had given her a room on the second floor where Kahlan and she could spend the night. She left the candles unlit so she could stare out the window onto the street below without being noticed. Other than the runners disappearing into the night, the street had remained deserted. Once again, the impression of a city abandoned washed over her, setting her nerves on edge.
When the door opened behind her, Cara expected it to be Kahlan, and she was surprised to hear Dennee’s voice instead.
“I hear Councilor Timmick will declare Tamarang for Prentax,” said the Confessor as she joined Cara by the window. Cara glanced over, but Dennee was staring at the street below.
Cara’s lip curled into a sneer. “I am not surprised. Tamarang has rolled over for any conqueror that lays claim to the First Chair. I told Kahlan she should not trust him.”
“Interesting. I too warned her of Timmick’s ways not long before I left Aydindril,” responded Dennee.
“Sometimes, I think that Kahlan is too trusting,” murmured Cara.
“Once, I thought as you do. I’ve had a long time away from her to ponder it.” Dennee finally turned her gaze to Cara. Cara could see strong emotions brewing in the Confessor’s eyes. “Now, I see that Kahlan is not naïve. She probably suspected Timmick’s duplicitous nature as much as you or I, but she is sworn to uphold the law of the Midlands. She could not act against him without provoking the other provinces. Better to leave him be and keep the peace. I see that now.”
Cara snorted at this. She still had no stomach for the politics that was the daily bread of the Mother Confessor’s existence, though she could not deny that Dennee’s words held a certain logic.
Dennee went on, “And she trusted you. I thought that a mistake, also.”
“And now?” asked Cara. Her heart skipped a beat. She doubted that Dennee would ever forgive her for what she had done to the Confessor, but she did not want to continue being a wedge between Kahlan and her sister.
“I think Kahlan may have the right of it, yet again.” Dennee sighed. “Make no mistake. I don’t know if I will ever be able to look at you without seeing Valeria and my own son, dead in my arms. Even adopting Edmund cannot erase that. But, if everything these resistance fighters keep telling me is true, then my sister has made a wise choice in her lover.”
“That is what she keeps telling me,” said Cara, a little wistfully.
“Perhaps it is true, then.”
Dennee made her way back to the door. She opened it and took half a step across the threshold before she paused and looked at Cara again.
“When this battle begins, Cara, protect her.”
“With my life,” answered Cara solemnly.
“You know, for a Mord’Sith, I can nearly read you sometimes. I would almost swear you were telling me the truth just then,” remarked Dennee quietly, as if to herself.
Then she was gone, leaving Cara to mull over Dennee’s words.
***
Nearly one hundred people crammed into the dim passage. Between the heat of the bodies and the torches that burned at intervals along the wall, the temperature was stifling, but Cara took no notice. The air was thick with sweat and anticipation as they waited for the sounds of the diversionary squad’s attack. A vanguard of Home Guard soldiers was positioned in front of Cara. Beside her, Kahlan waited, her face calm and relaxed, but her body radiating tension.
Directly behind Cara, Belle fidgeted in the borrowed chainmail shirt that was a fraction too tight. The blacksmith’s hammer was tucked in its usual place on her belt and she held an axe - not the woodcutter’s hatchet she had used in her first battle, but a genuine double-edged war axe that one of the soldiers had procured for her. She twirled it nervously in her hand. Beside Belle, Merry looked tiny in the leather jerkin that was two sizes too large for her. It wasn’t much protection, but it was something, and the small woman wasn’t used to wearing anything as heavy as armor. The clerk squeezed the handles of her new daggers until her knuckles shown white. Her face was pale and drawn. Cara had nearly ordered both of them to stay behind, but Belle had insisted on securing the fireshots, and Merry had insisted on accompanying Belle. Cara had relented, accepting that they needed all the bodies that they could muster. Kahlan had assigned Dennee and a couple of fighters to protect and aid Belle and Merry. Dennee and Zedd had drawn up behind the blacksmith and the clerk, and they were both grim and silent.
Trailing away beyond the wizard and the Confessor, the rest of the fighters stretched down the narrow corridor, the end past the edge of Cara’s vision. In the tight space, the force appeared large, but Cara knew that they were outnumbered at least three to one and that a hundred fighters could easily be spread thin in the vast palace. She and Kahlan had ordered them to stay tight, focusing on key areas only - the main gates and the battlements surrounding it, the main courtyard, the entry hall and the Great Hall beyond it. The hidden passage they were in now led to the passage with the statue of Magda Searus. Once in the Palace, they would funnel into the entry hall, where they would break up into the smaller squads as Cara and Kahlan had assigned. One squad would secure the entry hall, while another that included Cara, Kahlan and Zedd would take the Great Hall and ensnare Prentax. The rest of the soldiers would attempt to overcome Prentax’s forces on the walls and at the gate, thereby securing a reprieve for the squad attacking the main gate from the outside. If all goes according to plan, that is, thought Cara sourly. She dropped her hand to her agiel, letting the sharp tingle cleanse her mind of worry.
Suddenly, the sound of muffled explosions reached their ears. Tension mounted as the fighters leaned forward as one, like hounds that had just spotted a fox. Kahlan reached for her daggers and Cara unsheathed her agiels. The pain stirred the blood lust in Cara and her lips twitched, almost curling into a smile.
“Lieutenant, take us out,” commanded the Mother Confessor.
***
Belle didn’t have time to think as she ran after Dennee, one hand latched onto Merry, dragging the clerk behind her. She heard the whistle of the ball an instant before the cobblestones just a few paces away disintegrated into smoke and rubble. Shards of rock slashed at them, blown outward in all directions. A sharp sting and the warmth on her cheek told her that one of the shards had sliced across her face. She increased her pace, driven on by cold fear. They needed to get under cover, fast.
The three women reached a small gate that opened on stairs leading to the Palace walls. They stumbled inside. No enemy soldiers were present and they took a moment to catch their breath.
“You said the fireshots wouldn’t work,” growled Dennee, her eyes blazing.
“I said that they would stop working after a shot or two, maybe three,” retorted Belle. She jabbed a finger out through the gate, pointing at the walls across the main courtyard. At several points along the walls chunks were missing from the main walkways, black smoke billowing up into the blue sky. “Those fireshots have already malfunctioned and I guarantee you that some of those explosions took out at least a few of the enemy.”
After the Mother Confessor’s fighters had overrun the entry hall, making short work of Prentax’s men, the squad of which Belle and Merry were part split off from the main force with one goal in mind - capture and destroy all the fireshots. Dennee had divided their small group in two, sending the Home Guard soldiers to the other side of the courtyard to secure the fireshots there. Each group would take out the fireshots on their side one at a time, working their way along the wall and converging on the central walkway above the main gate.
“We need to find the one that isn’t faulty,” gasped Merry, chest still heaving as she caught her breath.
“Prentax had it mounted over the main gate,” said Belle.
“Well, there’s only one way to get there. Follow me and stay close,” Dennee ordered as she began sprinting up the steps. The Confessor seemed to be fueled by a barely contained rage, and Belle and Merry struggled to keep her in sight.
When they reached the top of the wall, Dennee was already engaged with two of Prentax’s men near an intact fireshot. With her black dress swirling about her and her silver daggers glinting in the sun, the Confessor appeared as a thunderstorm transformed into living flesh. The soldiers fell quickly before her onslaught. Behind her, Merry and Belle rolled the fireshot to the edge of the wall and tipped it over the battlement. It smashed, twisted and useless, on the ground below.
The trio worked their way quickly along the wall, dispatching enemies and fireshots alike. Just as Belle had promised, three of the fireshots already lay in blackened, twisted heaps of metal. Merry and Belle sent another fireshot sailing out over the wall. Belle could see the Home Guard making their way along the other wall, similarly disposing of the weapons.
Finally they stood no more than twenty paces from the final fireshot. Two Mord’Sith blocked their way, each exuding a confident, deadly grace as they approached slowly. Belle gripped Dennee’s arm before the Confessor could launch herself at the leather-clad warriors.
“Let me. I have a special treat for them,” said Belle in a low voice.
The blacksmith sauntered forward to meet the Mord’Sith. She slid the axe into a loop at the back of her belt and faced the women empty handed.
“Hello, ladies,” said Belle, crossing her arms over her chest.
The Mord’Sith hesitated, apparently confused by Belle’s unflustered reaction. They were used to being feared by most people, and Belle’s ease confounded them. They frowned. Then one of them shrugged at the other, and they charged Belle together, each jabbing an agiel into the blacksmith’s side. Baffled trepidation flitted across the Mord’Siths’ faces when she did not cry out. Instead she grinned at them.
“I take it neither of you have had the pleasure of meeting a pristinely ungifted one before?” she asked calmly as she grasped their agiels, one in each hand, and yanked the weapons away from the Mord’Sith. She backhanded both of them in the face, and they reeled back.
Turning to Dennee, Belle said, ”They’re all yours.”
With a snarl, Dennee fell on the Mord’Sith, her lips drawn back like a feral animal. Belle thought that the Confessor would have used her daggers, but she was shocked when Dennee wrapped one of her hands around each of the women’s throats, her fingers digging into their flesh. Pure hate flooded the Confessor’s features just before her eyes swirled black.
“Cara Mason may yet live, but I will never forgive your kind,” she growled low, almost as if talking to herself. “Now die.”
The women screamed in unison as the power of confession tore through them. The Mord’Sith fell to the ground, twisting in agony. Though she had seen much bloodshed in the past weeks, the brutality before her left Belle breathless, bile rising in her throat. Merry buried her face in Belle’s shoulder as if to block out the sight. Belle looked at the Confessor standing before her, wondering what had happened to her to fill her with such cruelty.
Dennee blinked and swallowed, and she seemed to shrink as the hatred drained from her face. The Mord’Sith were still and lifeless.
“Let’s finish this,” the Confessor said coldly, motioning at the last fireshot.
Belle nodded numbly. She went to take a step forward when the walkway in front of her seemed to explode. All three women were thrown back as two massive red bodies collided with and rolled over the wall, dropping into the main courtyard below. Two dragons landed in an immense, snarling heap of claws and fangs on the cobblestones. Belle scrambled to the edge of the wall, scarcely believing what she was seeing. Her heart pounded from nearly being smashed beneath the beasts that now wrestled with each other below her. One of the dragons pinned the other to the ground, only to be thrown back by a powerful kick from the other’s hind legs. Belle knew the collarless dragon, still on her back, must be Scarlet. Apparently, the dragon had not been entirely successful in freeing the last of the enslaved dragons before Prentax called to them.
Scarlet rolled to her feet and roared before charging the smaller but faster, collared dragon. He dodged the attack, smashing his tail into Scarlet’s face. She responded by burying her teeth deep in the tail, dragging him backwards. He slashed at her face with his front claws, and she was forced to release his tail in order to avoid being hit. They both snarled and began to circle each other warily. Atop the wall Belle, Merry, and Dennee watched in awe. Yet Belle could not help but notice the way one of Scarlet’s wings drooped at her side, and the dragon’s own blood covered her muzzle, welling up from a dozen deep cuts.
“We’ve got to help Scarlet,” Belle said.
“What, are you crazy?” replied Merry. Dennee looked at her as if she had grown a second head. Belle ignored their expressions as she searched around her. Her eyes fell on the last fireshot, still intact. The one she knew would not blow up on her if she used it. There was a gap in the walkway from where the dragons had slammed into the wall. Belle peered over the edge. There was nothing but air and the cobblestones of the courtyard far below. She swallowed and looked across to the fireshot. She could make it. At least she thought she could.
“Belle, no,” Merry said warningly.
The blacksmith looked back down into the courtyard. The collared dragon had Scarlet pinned again and was shredding the membrane of one of her wings in his teeth. Scarlet roared in fury and pain. The sound decided Belle. Taking a deep breath and a few running steps, the blacksmith launched herself across the gap.
For a moment she thought she wouldn’t make it. She seemed to be dropping too quickly and her heart caught in her throat. Then her boots hit solid ground and she half-rolled, half-skidded forward. The impact jarred her bones and her chin slammed into the stones of the walkway, but adrenaline coursed through her, and the pain seemed far away.
Belle clambered over to the fireshot on hands and knees. The Creator must have smiled on her because the weapon was still loaded. Straining, she rolled the heavy bulk into position, pointing the fireshot down into the courtyard. She sighted down the length of the fireshot, making sure it was aimed at the collared dragon. Frantically, she clawed for her knife and steel, yanking them out. Taking one more glance to assure that the fireshot was still lined up, she struck the steel and the fuse caught.
The boom echoed across the courtyard. Both dragons’ heads swung around to face her. Time seemed to slow down as the ball whizzed through the air. Belle watched as it closed in on its target - and missed by scarce feet. The collared dragon’s eyes narrowed and Belle heard him inhale. She threw herself down, rolling as far away from the courtyard as she could. Flames shot past her, arcing in sky above her. The air itself seemed to be singed as the stones underneath her warmed alarmingly. How could I miss a target as big as a dragon? Belle thought miserably as she curled up against the far battlement, her arms wrapped over her head.
The fire stopped but Belle heard the sound of claws meeting stone. She knew with dreadful certainty that the dragon was climbing up the wall toward her. Panic clouded her mind. Her body felt frozen, her muscles stiff and unresponsive.
“Belle, run!” shrieked Merry, terror raising the pitch of the clerk’s voice.
Merry’s scream penetrated the fog shrouding Belle’s brain. The blacksmith shoved herself to her feet. Before she could take a step, however, she tumbled forward as the wall lurched and swayed. Her knee cracked against the stone as she fell and she hissed as pain shot through her leg. She tried regaining her feet, but her knee screamed in protest and refused to support her weight. The sound of rending metal filled the air and the wall trembled again. The harsh scrape of scrabbling claws on stone grew louder. The dragon appeared over the edge of the wall. Belle watched helpless and exposed as it pulled its entire body onto the wall, its front legs straddling Belle where she hunched. A cold yellow eye fixed itself upon her, and Belle stared at her death.
Then with a great sweep of wings, the dragon erupted into the air. Dust and smoke swirled around Belle as the powerful down strokes sent eddies spinning off in every direction. Disbelief mingled with exhilaration as she realized that she was not going to die. She let out a loud whoop. A triumphant roar from below made her jump. Careful to avoid hitting her wounded knee, the blacksmith clamored to get a better view of the courtyard. Scarlet stood tall and proud, the two mangled halves of the collar at her feet. The dragon caught sight of the blacksmith and the dragon tilted her head, as if she were giving Belle a nod of approval.
“THANK YOU, HUMAN.”
Speechless, Belle simply waved in acknowledgement. The great beast gave herself a shake and inspected her damaged wing. She stretched it out to its full length, the tip almost touching the far wall of the courtyard and flapped it once. Seemingly satisfied, the dragon’s gaze sought out the blacksmith again.
“GIVE MY THANKS TO THE PROTECTOR AND HER MATE AS WELL. FOR HUMANS, THEY ARE QUITE…EXCEPTIONAL. NOW, I MUST GO. I AM SICK OF THE STENCH OF MEN - NO OFFENSE INTENDED.”
“None taken,” said Belle in a weak voice, still stunned that a dragon was speaking to her. Despite her injured wing, Scarlet’s take off was somehow more dignified and graceful than the smaller dragons had been. Before Belle even had a chance to say good-bye, the magnificent creature threw out her wings and launched herself into the air with a powerful leap that cleared the palace wall. Her broad wings caught the breeze instantly and with a couple of strong wing beats, the dragon wheeled about and headed due east, quickly disappearing into the blue.
Spent, Belle slumped down, her back against the battlement. Fatigue claimed her as the adrenaline drained away. Her knee throbbed relentlessly. But her chest swelled with pride as she looked across the gap to Merry and Dennee.
“You have wool for brains, you idiot!” yelled Merry. Belle grinned at her, and the clerk stamped her foot. “Stay there. We’ll come around and get you.”
“I’ll be here,” the blacksmith shouted back, trying to look sufficiently chastised for Merry’s sake. As the Confessor and the clerk turned to go, Belle let her head fall back on the edge of the wall. She gazed up at the clear sky above her where she could just make out the smaller dragon still circling lazily overhead. A breeze cooled the sweat on her brow. She smiled again. Mumbling contentedly to herself, she said, “I’m not going anywhere.”
***
Chaos reigned in the Great Hall. Bodies crashed into one another, blades flashing, the screeching of metal on metal ringing in the air, and above it all the explosions of magic as the First Wizard and the traitorous Prentax traded enchanted volleys. Led by Cara and Kahlan, the resistance had entered the Great Hall just as the meeting of the Council had begun. Zedd had magically sealed all exits but the main entrance, leaving the only path of escape through the Home Guard soldiers. Terrified councilors had scattered like rats that had just been discovered in the pantry. Kahlan’s forces had orders to let them pass - all except Timmick, who had cowered at the foot of the First Chair next to his new master.
The Mother Confessor and her Mord’Sith met the first wave of Prentax’s soldiers together. They fought side by side, elegant and deadly, dancing with one another. They moved in complete synchrony, always perfectly aware of the other’s presence - Cara dropping as Kahlan’s dagger whistled overhead, only to rise to deflect a blow directed at Kahlan’s blindside - the Confessor spinning out of the way as the Mord’Sith moved past her to strike. They flowed with the unstoppable force of a tidal wave across the Hall, crushing any resistance in their path. But Cara was forced to break off. She had a specific task to do. She was the magic against the magic, and it fell to her to capture Prentax so that he could face the Mother Confessor’s justice.
Now, Cara carved a path for herself, keeping Prentax always in her sights. The wizard seemed to take no notice as the Mord’Sith relentlessly stalked through the throng, cutting down enemies and shoving aside allies in her pursuit. Another figure wrapped in tight leather crossed her path, one of the turncoat Mord’Sith about which Berdine had warned her. Cara sneered as her agiels struck out like vicious snakes. The foolish woman was dead before she hit the ground, but Cara took no notice as she moved on. Her focus was for Prentax alone, and she watched him as a hawk watches an unsuspecting mouse.
Cara reached the wizard in the middle of the melee. Two of his men, former Dragon Corps both, and another Mord’Sith battled by his side. Suddenly Prentax’s yellow eyes turned to Cara. He had the audacity to smile at her. Cara could feel her blood begin to boil, her cold exterior melting away with the fury of what this man had done to Kahlan, to Aydindril, to herself. He flicked his wrist, almost casually. She blocked his spell just as easily with an open palm, but it gave his guards enough time to close ranks around her. She snarled as she blocked a blow from one of the Dragon Corp deserters, and thrust an agiel into the side of the Mord’Sith. A kick sent the other D’Haran soldier tilting away on unbalanced legs. Two of the Home Guard caught him and swiftly brought him down.
One of Cara’s agiels was ripped away by the wizard’s Mord’Sith. Cara used her free hand to yank a dagger from a sheath at the waist of the Dragon Corp guard. She jammed the blade up to the hilt under his arm where his armor gave him no protection, and he dropped away from her. Cara’s attention fell on the Mord’Sith, who now brandished Cara’s agiel as well as her own. Even doubly armed, the inexperienced, younger Mord’Sith was no equal to the woman who had once been Darken Rahl’s fiercest Sister of the Agiel. After a short, brutal struggle, Cara snapped the Mord’Sith’s neck and reclaimed her agiel.
Prentax wasn’t smiling anymore. He raised a hand halfway to shoulder height, but thought better of it when Cara raised her own palm. Every instinct in her cried for her to destroy him, but without him they might not find the Heart Stone. So Cara and Prentax stood only paces from one another, blazing green eyes boring into flat, resentful yellow eyes, as the battle raged around them.
Suddenly, a cry echoed from across the hall. Cara knew it was Kahlan, knew the Confessor was in trouble. She turned, just for a second. Her eyes sought Kahlan out, finding her near the First Chair. The Mother Confessor was being held by four of Prentax’s soldiers, her daggers strewn in front of her. Two men each held an arm, keeping Kahlan’s hands away from anyone, unable to fight or confess. Cara and Kahlan’s eyes met. Then Kahlan’s eyes went wide as Cara felt the blade slide between her ribs.
Stunned, Cara stumbled backwards as her gaze fell to the hilt of a dagger jutting from her chest. Her lungs burned and she could not seem to draw enough air. She coughed and red foam spattered her lips. Shock rippled through her. She rocked on her feet as she reached for the dagger, only half-believing what she was seeing. A harsh laugh brought her gaze back to Prentax. His face contorted into a mask of rage.
“You have been nothing but a thorn in my side, Mord’Sith. I’ve lost one of the stones and almost all of my dragons because of you. I should have killed you the moment I laid eyes on you,” he snarled. Then his face transformed into a look of triumph. “You may be able to deflect my magic, Mord’Sith, but you are as mortal as any woman with a blade in your heart. And I will have the Mother Confessor and the wizard at my command. You see, in the end, I will always win.”
Cara cursed her own stupidity as she wrenched the blade from her body. She swayed dangerously, but her anger propelled her forward a step. She glowered at the wizard, her fist tight around the dagger’s hilt. His smile fading, Prentax looked alarmed for a moment, but as Cara tried to take another step forward she faltered. Her muscles felt suddenly useless and she labored for breath. Her blood roared in her ears.
Cara’s legs buckled and she slumped to her knees. The knife slipped unnoticed from suddenly numb fingers. She knew she was dying. The blade had not struck her heart, but that only meant she would die more slowly. She had died before, sometimes quickly, sometimes not, but always there was the possibility of return, whether by the Breath of Life or the Keeper’s bargain. There was no one to bring her back this time. Her heart clenched as she thought of Kahlan. Cara wanted to live, wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.
Another cry, more anguished than the last, brought Cara’s head up, though it seemed to be growing so heavy. Across the Great Hall, she could see Kahlan thrashing in the arms of the soldiers that held her, the Confessor’s eyes fixed on Cara. Cara’s heart slammed against her ribs, as if trying to escape her chest. Pain radiated out in every direction, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the wound or from the emotions that poured through her. There was so much she hadn’t told Kahlan, so much the Confessor deserved to hear. Knowing how little time was left, Cara silently reached out, trying desperately to communicate everything she had left unsaid as their eyes connected. She held Kahlan’s gaze as long as she could, throwing her mute words into the ether. Then a wave of darkness overcame her and she felt herself falling. Somewhere far away she could hear Kahlan screaming.
***
Watching with helpless horror as the wizard stabbed Cara, Kahlan felt almost as if Prentax’s blade had pierced her as well. Miraculously, Cara remained standing and even staggered forward toward the wizard, wielding his own knife against him. For a moment, wild, desperate hope filled Kahlan that somehow the wound was not as serious as it had first appeared. Then Cara stumbled and fell. Kahlan could see the blood glistening on Cara’s lips, could see the stain, darker than Cara’s leathers, spreading across Cara’s chest. Kahlan searched frantically for someone to call out to, someone who would help the Mord’Sith, even as she could not. She located Zedd, but even as she spotted the wizard, he was cornered by two Mord’Sith, and then knocked to the ground by a sharp blow to the back of his head. The wizard lay pale and motionless on the stone floor. Whether he was unconscious or dead she had no way of knowing. Panic was building in her throat. Everywhere Kahlan looked her men were being overwhelmed by Prentax’s forces.
A cry was ripped from her mouth as her eyes turned back to Cara. Kahlan tried futilely to yank her arms from her captors, straining with all her might to wrest her hands from them. Across the hall, head drooping, the Mord’Sith was on her knees. Blood had soaked through most of the upper half of her leathers, yet at Kahlan’s cry Cara’s head rose unsteadily. Kahlan’s heart surged forward as jade eyes met her own. The Confessor gasped. For the first time since Kahlan had known Cara, she could read the emotions written clearly in the Mord’Sith’s eyes. Cara was offering Kahlan her heart as plainly as if she were saying the words out loud. Kahlan’s heart pounded out its own response. Then Cara’s eyes closed and she tumbled backwards. For a brief second Kahlan stared at the still figure of her lover, her mind refusing to believe what her eyes were seeing. Then she screamed.
As the sounds of agony and fury tore their way out of her throat, Kahlan felt the sudden rush of her magic rising in her. This was not the controlled magic of Confession, but something much darker and more primal. Kahlan had felt this magic before, and now, in her despair and anger, she welcomed it. Red washed over her vision. Her body began to shudder violently as the forces within her swelled menacingly inside of her veins. Her skin sizzled and her joints popped as the magic raced through her limbs. The power felt as if it would tear her apart, but she knew it would not. With it she would be strong. With it she would make them all pay.
“What’s going on?” shouted one of the guards restraining her.
“I don’t know,” yelled another as he tightened his grip on her arm.
“The Spirits save us, it’s the Blood Rage!” cried a third as he released his grasp in terror.
“You fool, don’t let her go. Someone get the Rada’Han!” shouted the last.
But it was too late for them. Kahlan screamed again as the Con Dar took hold of her. Blue-silver lightning arced across her skin, blasting her captors away from her. She raised both hands, but it was an unnecessary gesture. Unbidden, the power of Confession rolled off of her in waves, swells in a storm, each bigger than the last. Racing out from her, the magic passed through every person in the Great Hall, Home Guard and traitor alike. The palpable force of her fury was so strong that many of the soldiers stumbled as it slammed into them. Then one after another, each dropped to his knees.
As one, they called out, “Command us, Confessor.”
The Mother Confessor looked out at the sea of faces turned in reverence toward her. She viewed them all as if they were insects. The Mord’Sith still alive began to twitch and howl in pain as the deadly power of confession tore their souls apart. Kahlan felt no pity for them. She felt nothing but cold, distilled fury. Her lover was dead. Nothing else mattered.
“Enough!” shouted Kahlan, her voice echoing off the walls. “You will revive Cara, or you will die in silence.”
Instantly the Mord’Sith quieted, though their features were contorted in agony. As one, the Mord’Sith tried crawling to Cara’s still form, but even the enraged Mother Confessor could see from their tortured movements that they would die before ever making it. This only served to stoke Kahlan’s rage.
“Help them!” she ordered. Men rushed forward to fulfill her command, scooping up the Mord’Sith in their arms. Cara’s body was lost amid the scramble of activity. Then the men stepped back. The Mord’Sith lay like a wreath around Cara - and every single one was plainly dead.
Eventually, one man came forward toward Kahlan, visibly quaking with fear.
“Mistress, the Mord’Sith failed,” he said breathlessly.
The soldier wore the uniform of a D’Haran officer. He had been one of Prentax’s men and therefore as guilty as Prentax himself. Kahlan reached for the soldier’s own knife and bellowed her rage as she carelessly slashed his throat. She was to be robbed of the one chance to save Cara. The thought turned to ashes in her mind, blasted by the furnace of her bloodlust. Only vengeance was left to her.
“Bring me Prentax.”
Men leapt to their feet, and the wizard was dragged roughly forward, though he offered no resistance. The light of confession glowed in his eyes as much as it did in the others.
“How may I serve you, Mother Confessor?” he said quietly, his yellow eyes brimming with enchanted love.
Her hand slack at her side, the knife dripping hot blood onto the cool stone floor, Kahlan contemplated the man standing before her. Each punishment, each torture she could devise for him seemed less than he deserved. Her body nearly hummed with her barely contained rage.
As she scrutinized him, another soldier pushed forward through the crowd. Part of Kahlan’s mind vaguely recognized him as Theron Ridgewater, a lieutenant in the Home Guard. She thought she should feel regret at his confession - after all he did have a wife and two small children, and had done nothing but serve her loyally - but as her eyes shifted to him she felt nothing but the heat burning in the pit of her stomach.
“Confessor, there is something-“
“You will not interrupt me until I am done with Prentax,” she cut him off.
“But-“
A sharp glance from her silenced him.
Kahlan returned her attention to the wizard standing before her. When she spoke her voice was cold and brittle. “You have taken everything from me - my city, my friends, and, most importantly, my love.”
Her voice cracked at this point. A thin trickle of grief began to work its way through her fury, but she shoved it away from her. She pulled the Con Dar around her like armor. While its magic swirled and throbbed in her veins she would not feel the pain that was sure to come.
“Mistress, I am sorry!” Prentax cried out.
“Silence!” spat Kahlan, another wave of red sliding across her vision. Her blood pounded as the magic prickled and pulsed under her skin. The silver badger on her wrist began to glow, first a dull orange, then brightening to a piercing yellow-white light. She could have sworn that she saw it move, and the guardian’s words echoed in her mind. Remember, the badger is the most dangerous when defending his home. She dropped the knife and stroked the badger’s smooth back. Metallic fur rippled under her fingertips and the badger’s legs released their grasp on her arm. She held the animal in her palm. It was still metal, yet its eyes gleamed with awareness, somehow alive and not at the same time.
Turning her eyes from the badger, she spoke again. “Where is the Heart Stone?”
“It is here, Mistress,” replied Prentax, eagerly pointing at his chest. “I used my magic to place it close to my heart so that it would always be with me.”
Kahlan felt the metal creature in her hand twitch. She knew what to do.
The Mother Confessor picked up the badger by its back and slammed it, claws first, into Prentax’s chest. The wizard screamed in agony as the creature began to dig into his chest. He slammed his eyes shut, but Kahlan grabbed his jaw and yanked his head toward her.
“Look at me!” she hissed.
Yellow eyes stared into hers, horror and pain mixing in them. The wizard wailed as the badger burrowed even deeper, but he followed his mistress’s order, keeping his eyes fixed on her face. His legs trembled and gave out, forcing him to his knees, but she wrenched his head back so that he would still be forced to look at her.
“Know that the pain you feel now is nothing compared to the pain you have caused,” she snarled at him.
“Ye-yes..yes, M-m-mistress,” he stammered. “Forgive me.”
Then he shrieked, his mouth gaping wide. There was a crunch and a flash of blinding blue light as the badger crushed the Heart Stone. The badger made one more lunge and the wizard jerked violently. Then the light faded from his eyes, but they did not close. They stared vacantly up at Kahlan. Even in death, Prentax obeyed his mistress.
Kahlan let the wizard’s body fall back. It hit the ground with a sickening thud. She gazed at it, waiting for the sense of triumph that should accompany the vanquishing of an enemy. It didn’t come.
Instead, she wondered who would be the next to die.
Part XI