Pride & Destiny, Chapter 5
Author: chickinwhite
Pairing: Kahlan/Cara
Rating: PG 17
Word account: 4100
Summary: End of Season 1 - And the beginning of an unexpected future for two sworn enemies, who have to learn to have faith in each other while trying to survive in a hostile world...
Disclaimer: Nothing of LotS belongs to me (such a pity!) - no business, just fan-fun
AN: Sometimes it is just a tiny little detail that holds sway over your fate... Remember Reckoning? Cara struck Richard, who was sitting close to the edge... Well, I asked myself how things would have turned out if not Richard but Kahlan had sit first in her way when Cara arrived...
Previously: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
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„Mistress?“
The voice came low from the near road. Kahlan blinked a few times, all her muscles had tensed, as if awaiting an attack. She breathed relieved when she found it was the redhead that had returned. Shooting a short glance to the Mord Sith, who sat on a log to her right and hadn´t moved, except for a quick grip to her agiel, she nodded reassuringly. The agiel was put back in its holster and the grim glare focused on their visitors.
Bushwhacking noisily, which gained him an annoyed huff from the Mord Sith, the redhead appeared. He stumbled into sight with a silly smile on his lips, that widened immediately as his gaze found Kahlan.
„Mistress, I have brought help. And provisions. Just like you demanded.“
Kahlan gave him a brief, tight smile before briefly looking at Haron again, slowly standing to greet their visitors.
In the young man´s wake two women came in sight. One of them a hunched old rag, who´s thin, lank hair shimmered in a yellow white, and who´s face was the expressive map of a long and hard life lived. She walked slowly and carefully, as if not sure where to step; in her hand she held a basket that tingled lowly with every step she made. At her side there walked a younger girl that held her eyes cast to the ground as she approached. Hard to say if she was just shy or, as Kahlan assumed, if she was intimidated to the bones. Briefly she wondered what the redhead had said to her to make her follow him here. She had a large bundle on her back, the weight of it speaking through her hunched shoulders.
Kahlan sighed, feeling a warm wave of empathy for the women who had no idea what awaited them here. She stood slowly and approached them, reaching her hand out to the elder one. When she spoke she took care that her voice was soft and warm.
“Thank you, grandmother, for coming to help us. Let me carry your basket; you are already short of breath.”
The woman lifted her gaze and for a moment Kahlan met vigilant blue eyes shining in that rugged face. Eyes, that seemed to carry all the wisdom in the world, yet sparkled with youth and power. They briefly looked her over, and just as briefly she saw an astounded flicker sweeping through her gaze, before she quickly shot a glance to the side, where the redhead stood and watched her with suspicion. He rushed to assure his Mistress.
“She is the best healer in town, Mistress. But she´s too old. I needed to goad her here...”
The glare she shot him made him wince a little, and his mouth snapped close.
“I am sorry for your haste; but see, Grandmother, this man needs your help. He almost died. Please, try to help him as best you can.”
Still silent, the old woman shot another side-glance to the young man who had brought her here, as if not daring to answer.
Kahlan could feel her fear and set her jaw, turning towards him and snubbing him more coldly than intended.
“Go back to the road and make sure you were not followed. I will call for you later.”
He nodded eagerly and rushed away.
Immediately the two women relaxed a little, the elder one giving low instructions to the girl, that nodded, dropped the heavy bag from her shoulders and went into the woods.
Only now, after a wary glance towards the Mord Sith that sat silently, watching the scene with a gruff expression from narrowed eyes, the woman spoke. The rasping sound of her words was low, but Kahlan heard the smile that lay inside.
“So you finally came... Thanks the Creator, where ever she has been all these years. We had almost lost hope. Too many winters gone by, since the Midlands have seen their Confessors. I am old, Mother Confessor. But today my heart is singing with joy...”
Kahlan smiled softly in surprise, and tilted her head. A spark of hope danced through her glance.
“So... you remember Confessors? You know who I am?”
Chuckling, the crone nodded.
“How could I ever forget the light of the sun, or the air to breathe? I would never allow the memories to fade. These glorious days when you walked the Midlands to save us from the tyrant Though darkness has come to shadow the light; and dust lies in the air and makes breathing hard...”
“But you waited all these years for me to come? How...?”
“Prophecy, Mother Confessor. Food for hope...”
Kahlan gently patted her arm, leading her to the man that was still lying unconsciously on the ground, where Cara had taken a seat, still that annoyed expression on her face; though listening attentively.
“What does it say, the prophecy, Grandmother?”
These vivid blue eyes blinked twice as she searched for the words. That finally came:
“Forlorn and forsaken these lands will burn, until the light of the one in white will return...”
Kahlan waited. She heard Cara huff behind the old woman, but ignored it. Finally she lent in and asked:
“Is that all?”
Sighing the woman grinned at her apologetically.
“I am old... my mind doesn´t serve me anymore...”
Sighing again, she turned to Haron, and immediately she seemed to forget their talking. Her hands lifted his shirt carefully, and she gasped as she saw the wound and the marks of Cara´s agiel.
“Dear Creator! What have they done to you? You should be dead by now... Now, now, let´s see what we can do... Keep calm, son, we will help you...” her voice drifted off as she mumbled low words. Soon the younger girl reappeared, her hands grasping some herbs and pieces of a dark grey bark that Kahlan didn´t recognize. Shyly blinking, she pointed to her bag, as if asking for allowance to open it. Kahlan nodded, though confusion wrinkled her forehead.
“Never mind her silence...” The old woman had looked up and shrugged.
“She´s lost her tongue when she was twelve. Guess it´s been done so that she can´t tell what happened then, when the soldiers assaulted her. Poor little thing... Martha takes her home, teaches her...“ Pointing at herself, she chuckled again and attended to Haron again.
Wide-eyed, the Confessor swallowed and stared at the girl, that was now rummaging through the insides of her bundle.
She was only fifteen years, if at all... - Soldiers, attacking a child...
Kahlan shut her eyes. She didn´t want the images that made their way into her mind.
Looking at Cara, she found the Mord Sith watching her warily, and seeing her glance the blonde raised a brow.
Why so surprised, Confessor? The brow seemed to ask. This world is a cold place, and young girls mean nothing to those who rule it...
The Confessor couldn´t help a small frown. For a heartbeat she saw Cara´s face again as she stood in the devastated temple, realization of her sister´s fate blossoming on her features, and again she heard that heart wrenching sound of a broken voice as she had called the name of her dead sister. She couldn´t say for sure, but she felt an understanding sparkling in her mind for that woman, who had faced too much cruelty to feel the same heartache as she felt for the fate of an unknown girl.
“How is it that this boy is principal in your village. He´s not yet a man even...” The Mord Sith demanded to know. This question had burnt on her tongue since their fight.
Chuckling the old hag looked briefly up and met her angry stare and answered with er rasping voice:
“ He is a Young Leader, my dear. Has been educated in the Lord´s Youth Camps, where only the best survive; has been sent back to us, two years ago. Damned be that day...”
Cara shot Kahlan a side glance.
“Martha? What are the Youth Camps?” the Confessor asked hesitatingly. She wasn´t sure whether she wanted to know...
“More than a decade ago, Lord Rahl began his education program. He´s gathering kids from the villages and towns. Brings them in large camps and raises them in his own spirit..”
“He takes them away from their family? To teach them...what?”
“...being his extended arm in the lands.” she said. The young girl approached with a balm, in which she had milled the herbs and pounded bark. Martha took it and started lubricating Haron´s wound carefully.
“So, this will help you. Brings blood. Takes heat. Heals... Gonna be okay, son, gonna be okay...” she murmured.
Cara stared at her wordlessly. A deep frown had settled on her forehead. Her mind was working with the few information she had gathered.
“What do you think, Cara?” Kahlan demanded to know.
Her companion looked up, still frowning, and shortly chewing on the insides of her lips.
“Looks like this new Lord Rahl has a brilliant mind.” she finally offered. Dismayed, Kahlan raised a brow.
“Taking children from their family? Forcing them to live in camps and teaching them - I don´t know what - is brilliant in your eyes?” Cara sent her a dark grin and nodded slowly.
“Isn´t it brilliant to raise a whole army of young people who have forgotten about their family? I´m quite sure I have a very clear idea about what happens in these camps. In the Rahl realm, pain and torture have always been appreciated tools in education. He will force them to fight against each other, to not trust anyone except their Lord. They will find home only in his ideas. They will not know about friends. They will learn to think what he thinks, to do what he expects them to do. To feel honored if he remembers their name, to be blessed with his cruelty.
Certainly, these camps generate the most loyal and devoted army the world has ever seen. And those who do not fit, will never leave them...If they´re lucky, they just die on the way. If not...” the grin on her face was frozen in a dark, razor-sharp line, “their pain will serve in the education of their companions.”
Watching her stony expressions, Kahlan felt a warm wave of empathy rolling through her chest. This woman wasn´t just fantasizing about horrible things. She had experienced them in all detail. Though she didn´t seem to rate these ideas, there lay a hint of bitter knowledge in her voice, that touched Kahlan, and she briefly wondered what kind of girl Cara must have been, before the Mord Sith had taken her away...
Her train of thoughts was interrupted when the young girl, Martha´s apprentice as she had heard, tugged at her sleeve, and, when she turned, she winked her close to see what they had brought in that large bundle the girl had carried on her small shoulders.
As she had ordered the redhead before, he had packed some urgently needed supplies. She found two blankets, that were astonishingly light, though soft and thick enough to keep one warm even in these cold autumn nights. A pot and some water tubes, skillfully made of goat skins, a few mugs and blades, ham and bread, and at least a large piece of soap were handed to her. A warm smile blossomed on the young girls face as she saw Kahlan sigh when she touched the soap. Though she cast her eyes to the ground immediately when the Confessor touched her arm and murmured her thanks.
Looking up, searching for the Mord Sith to show the items, she found the blonde had left. And shortly after she heard the whining of the Young Leader as he was shoved through the bushes with the help of an agiel. How the Mord Sith had guessed that she needed to interrogate him, she didn´t know. But she sent a smile towards the blonde, and watched again how her green eyes darkened as she furrowed her brows. The girl at her side had stiffened and retreated a few steps, until she cowered at a small trunk in a respectable distance to him. He fell to his knees when he reached Kahlan.
“Mistress, please tell me what I´ve done that you sent her to punish me. I regret it. I´ll do anything to make up for it...”
The brunette regarded him thoughtfully. A Young Leader. She rated his age on maybe 17 winters. Yet, he had been the one who had ordered a troop of militia as if he had been born to the task. She had heard his arrogant voice, had seen his anger burning on his face when Cara had mocked him. He had had no doubts about his position. And certainly, he had shown his liability to cruelty...
“Who are you?” she asked. He winced a little at her cold tone.
“I am Kyle Bornister, Mistress. Your faithful servant. I am the Young Leader of Blackthorne, send by Lord Rahl to initiate law and order in our village.” It sounded as if learned by rote.
“Well, Kyle, I want you to tell me everything you know about your Lord Rahl. And about the camp you´ve been in.” She took a seat on a log and looked up at him expectantly. At her side the Mord Sith took a stance, her hand warily at the hilt of her agiel.
And for the first time Kahlan didn´t feel the threat that she had seen in this gesture before.
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Kahlan woke from a shake at her shoulders, and in a blink she moved, with her dagger tightly gripped. Ripped out of her sleep, she needed a moment to realize it was the Mord Sith who had woken her, now staring at her hand close to her throat, which pushed the sharp blade of the dagger against her skin. The blonde had frozen. Not one muscle jerked as she waited for Kahlan to come around. Until, finally, Kahlan mumbled an embarrassed apology and pulled her hand with the weapon away from her.
“So, not yet convinced that I´m on your side?” The smirk on Cara´s lips mocked her.
“I may assure you, Confessor. For now there is no need to sleep with your daggers in hand...”
Kahlan felt a little abashed, but put a defiant tone into her words anyway.
“I told you, last time I trusted a Mord Sith, someone dear lost her life!”
The smirk died. And Cara snarled with narrowed eyes:
“And I told you, I am not! like Denna. I am no snake, wiggling under your blanket to set the bite while you´re asleep. I prefer the open, honorable fight.”
Cara stared her down. The feeling that had warmed her belly a few moments ago, when she had watched the Confessor sleep, had vanished into thin air. Though, after all the familiar anger that had replaced it, she liked much more.
“What is it?” she heard the brunette ask and frowned.
“Why have you woken me up? It´s long before sunrise...”
Cara huffed and turned to point at Haron at the other side of their small fire., who had sit up and held his head as if trying to calm the aftermaths of a night spent carousing.
“He´s awake. We can leave.”
The blonde stood and walked to the horses, that were bound to a tree.
Still a little ashamed, not for her reaction, but for being caught, Kahlan rose and walked to Haron. Seeing her approaching, he tried to stand and bow, but groaned and bent over, his hand holding his side where the wound was still healing.
“Mistress... I am sorry. Please forgive me, I do not remember what happened... How..?”
Kahlan touched his arm and forced him to sit down again.
“Everything is fine, Haron. I am not angry at you. You´ve been injured and almost died. But I am glad you didn´t. How do you feel? Are you able to ride a horse?”
“I am...” he nodded. “I am fine, Mistress. I think I can..” He tried his best to avoid the pained tone in his voice, but Cara had approached and gripped his west and pulled him to his feet.
“Stand, when your Mistress speaks to you, man!” She grinned coldly as he groaned again. Kahlan watched, but didn´t say a word. She sensed the Mord Sith was close to bursting after they had spent two days in this little clearing, waiting for Haron to come around after Martha had treated his wound. Cara had been like a savage beast, locked into a much too small cage. She had spent the whole days walking around restlessly, hunting for a while, exploring the woods around them... and Kahlan was sure she had visited Blackthorne again to see whether the redhead Kyle had done as ordered. But she didn´t ask.
And she didn´t need to. On their second day here, Cara had brought horses. Wearing a deeply smug expression on her face that spoke of the moment of pleasure she had had when she had nudged the stable owner into... contributing; in a “very important affair that Kyle, your Young Leader, needs horses for...”
Since they had heard how Lord Rahl´s newly introduced political system, that widely based on fear and treason - feelings, that of course had always been well known tools in the hands of the Rahl family, but seemed to be shaped now into perfidious perfection with the idea of the Young Leaders - the blonde Mord Sith had thought about how easy people should be tricked to do things they believed were ordered by their Young Leader...
They feared them. Horribly.
And they had good reasons to do so.
As Kyle had told, only the young guys that showed the greatest devotion to Lord Rahl, but stuck at nothing if it came to their families and companions, who proved their unscrupulousness in many different ways during the years of training, became the chosen ones. All the others in the same age, who hadn´t failed in their training and hadn´t lost their lives during the years, but hadn´t proven to fulfill the expectations set into them, returned to their villages, truckling to their Young Leaders. They had witnessed what horrible deeds these young men were capable of. And rumors spread soon from their lips, emphasized in the very first days after their return, when they took their own family under arrest and started a cleaning in their villages, that cost lifes of many and filled many dungeons all over the realm... Until people didn´t dare to speak against them, not even to look at them. Fear became their new neighbors, and those who spied on their friends and betrayed them to the Young Leaders and their men, were rewarded with privileges...
Thus, the villagers were frozen in fear and mistrust. Even on friends and family could no longer be relied on. Their own children would sell them out for obtaining acceptance from their new idol, the strong and smart Young Leader...No one could be trusted. So, they all felt forlorn and crestfallen.
Which made them easy victims and much easier to lead...
When Kyle had told his own story, without showing the slightest hint of remorse or passion, his voice only hitching for a heartbeat when his Mistress gasped a few times, Kahlan had felt her blood running cold.
This... was far more obnoxious and inhuman than she had ever thought possible.
It meant that people no longer had a home, for their homes were prisons to their minds.
It meant that peace and justice had become fairy tales from the past. That liberty was lost.
It meant... that no chains were needed to make her people a people of slaves...
When Kyle finished his words, dead silence had hovered over them. Cara had watched wordlessly how Kahlan´s shocked expressions changed, how she steeled herself and put a mask on her features that didn´t betray the storm that was blustering through her heart. Cold, hard eyes had taken the color of a moonless night as they stared the young redhead down, not caring as he squirmed desperately.
“Are there girls, too?” the Mord Sith chipped in.
Kyle shook his head, seeming a little scandalized.
“Girls, - and women, - can´t be soldiers. They are not meant to fight, nor to lead!! They have not the heart, nor the mind to do so. Women stay in their family until a man comes and takes them home. They will raise his children and see that he is well cared for. That is the place the Creator has provided for them...” He spoke with deep conviction; he didn´t seem to acknowledge that his Mistress and her companion didn´t fit into this natural role...
Cara´s eyes were small slits as she set her jaw. But before she could answer, Kahlan took over again.
“How many Young Leaders are out there?” she asked, and her voice was rasping.
“I do not know, Mistress;” he almost whined. “but there are many... I was 8 when Lord Rahl called for me. And in our camp we were the third generation. I´ve been there for 8 years, and every year new abiders joined us, 40, 50 each year... Though, only half of us made it through... ”
Kahlan shut her eyes close, breathing deeply in and out, swallowing against the lump in her throat.
The Mord Sith stood aside; her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed. Watching Kahlan´s reaction with interest. She found it fascinating how that woman, that, she knew, was just eaten away by some ridiculous, but nonetheless heartbreaking emotions, showed a regal stance where the blonde would have expected tears and despair, soft as she had learned the Confessor was.
Though, obviously the Mother Confessor wasn´t that soft after all. At least, she was strong enough to put her feelings aside and be the Queen she probably used to be in her former life...
The blonde couldn´t help that tiny spark of appreciation blossoming in her mind, that improved when Kahlan´s eyes met her own glance and blue sapphires flashed with determination.
“We need to set an end to this.”
Tilting her head Cara raised a brow. Had that sounded like an accusation?
“Do we?” she drawled. “Well... it´s not because of me... that we aren´t on the road yet..”
Kahlan ignored her, turning towards Kyle again and giving him instructions for his return to Blackthorne.
His eyes widened as he listened. But he didn´t question her orders. Instead he nodded eagerly, happy to finally get the chance to please her. And then he had returned to the village, Martha and the young girl on his coat-tails.
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Now, that Haron was awake and seemed to be strong enough to ride, Kahlan could sense the Mord Sith´s impatience growing. Being condemned to faineance for two days had nagged at her and Kahlan was glad she hadn´t vanished as she had last time. But while Cara seemed gruff, she seemed determined to stay at her side anyway. And though she wouldn´t admit it, Kahlan felt confident with her. In this world they would probably face more situation in which they would need each other.
The more so, since she was decided to free her people. Village by village, if that was the only way.
When they reached the main road, Cara looked at her expectantly.
“What´s your plan, Confessor?”
“We´re heading to the People´s Palace. And we will stop at each and every village on the way.”
She watched a brow rise over sea green eyes and smiled amused at the blonde, which made Cara´s forehead furrow immediately. These smiles were something she was still not sure how to take them.
“Don´t worry, Cara. The way I see it, I think you´ll probably will enjoy these stops more than I will...”
And she set spurs to her horse and galloped into the dark...
t.b.c.
Pairing: Kahlan/Cara
Rating: PG 17
Word account: 4100
Summary: End of Season 1 - And the beginning of an unexpected future for two sworn enemies, who have to learn to have faith in each other while trying to survive in a hostile world...
Disclaimer: Nothing of LotS belongs to me (such a pity!) - no business, just fan-fun
AN: Sometimes it is just a tiny little detail that holds sway over your fate... Remember Reckoning? Cara struck Richard, who was sitting close to the edge... Well, I asked myself how things would have turned out if not Richard but Kahlan had sit first in her way when Cara arrived...
Previously: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
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„Mistress?“
The voice came low from the near road. Kahlan blinked a few times, all her muscles had tensed, as if awaiting an attack. She breathed relieved when she found it was the redhead that had returned. Shooting a short glance to the Mord Sith, who sat on a log to her right and hadn´t moved, except for a quick grip to her agiel, she nodded reassuringly. The agiel was put back in its holster and the grim glare focused on their visitors.
Bushwhacking noisily, which gained him an annoyed huff from the Mord Sith, the redhead appeared. He stumbled into sight with a silly smile on his lips, that widened immediately as his gaze found Kahlan.
„Mistress, I have brought help. And provisions. Just like you demanded.“
Kahlan gave him a brief, tight smile before briefly looking at Haron again, slowly standing to greet their visitors.
In the young man´s wake two women came in sight. One of them a hunched old rag, who´s thin, lank hair shimmered in a yellow white, and who´s face was the expressive map of a long and hard life lived. She walked slowly and carefully, as if not sure where to step; in her hand she held a basket that tingled lowly with every step she made. At her side there walked a younger girl that held her eyes cast to the ground as she approached. Hard to say if she was just shy or, as Kahlan assumed, if she was intimidated to the bones. Briefly she wondered what the redhead had said to her to make her follow him here. She had a large bundle on her back, the weight of it speaking through her hunched shoulders.
Kahlan sighed, feeling a warm wave of empathy for the women who had no idea what awaited them here. She stood slowly and approached them, reaching her hand out to the elder one. When she spoke she took care that her voice was soft and warm.
“Thank you, grandmother, for coming to help us. Let me carry your basket; you are already short of breath.”
The woman lifted her gaze and for a moment Kahlan met vigilant blue eyes shining in that rugged face. Eyes, that seemed to carry all the wisdom in the world, yet sparkled with youth and power. They briefly looked her over, and just as briefly she saw an astounded flicker sweeping through her gaze, before she quickly shot a glance to the side, where the redhead stood and watched her with suspicion. He rushed to assure his Mistress.
“She is the best healer in town, Mistress. But she´s too old. I needed to goad her here...”
The glare she shot him made him wince a little, and his mouth snapped close.
“I am sorry for your haste; but see, Grandmother, this man needs your help. He almost died. Please, try to help him as best you can.”
Still silent, the old woman shot another side-glance to the young man who had brought her here, as if not daring to answer.
Kahlan could feel her fear and set her jaw, turning towards him and snubbing him more coldly than intended.
“Go back to the road and make sure you were not followed. I will call for you later.”
He nodded eagerly and rushed away.
Immediately the two women relaxed a little, the elder one giving low instructions to the girl, that nodded, dropped the heavy bag from her shoulders and went into the woods.
Only now, after a wary glance towards the Mord Sith that sat silently, watching the scene with a gruff expression from narrowed eyes, the woman spoke. The rasping sound of her words was low, but Kahlan heard the smile that lay inside.
“So you finally came... Thanks the Creator, where ever she has been all these years. We had almost lost hope. Too many winters gone by, since the Midlands have seen their Confessors. I am old, Mother Confessor. But today my heart is singing with joy...”
Kahlan smiled softly in surprise, and tilted her head. A spark of hope danced through her glance.
“So... you remember Confessors? You know who I am?”
Chuckling, the crone nodded.
“How could I ever forget the light of the sun, or the air to breathe? I would never allow the memories to fade. These glorious days when you walked the Midlands to save us from the tyrant Though darkness has come to shadow the light; and dust lies in the air and makes breathing hard...”
“But you waited all these years for me to come? How...?”
“Prophecy, Mother Confessor. Food for hope...”
Kahlan gently patted her arm, leading her to the man that was still lying unconsciously on the ground, where Cara had taken a seat, still that annoyed expression on her face; though listening attentively.
“What does it say, the prophecy, Grandmother?”
These vivid blue eyes blinked twice as she searched for the words. That finally came:
“Forlorn and forsaken these lands will burn, until the light of the one in white will return...”
Kahlan waited. She heard Cara huff behind the old woman, but ignored it. Finally she lent in and asked:
“Is that all?”
Sighing the woman grinned at her apologetically.
“I am old... my mind doesn´t serve me anymore...”
Sighing again, she turned to Haron, and immediately she seemed to forget their talking. Her hands lifted his shirt carefully, and she gasped as she saw the wound and the marks of Cara´s agiel.
“Dear Creator! What have they done to you? You should be dead by now... Now, now, let´s see what we can do... Keep calm, son, we will help you...” her voice drifted off as she mumbled low words. Soon the younger girl reappeared, her hands grasping some herbs and pieces of a dark grey bark that Kahlan didn´t recognize. Shyly blinking, she pointed to her bag, as if asking for allowance to open it. Kahlan nodded, though confusion wrinkled her forehead.
“Never mind her silence...” The old woman had looked up and shrugged.
“She´s lost her tongue when she was twelve. Guess it´s been done so that she can´t tell what happened then, when the soldiers assaulted her. Poor little thing... Martha takes her home, teaches her...“ Pointing at herself, she chuckled again and attended to Haron again.
Wide-eyed, the Confessor swallowed and stared at the girl, that was now rummaging through the insides of her bundle.
She was only fifteen years, if at all... - Soldiers, attacking a child...
Kahlan shut her eyes. She didn´t want the images that made their way into her mind.
Looking at Cara, she found the Mord Sith watching her warily, and seeing her glance the blonde raised a brow.
Why so surprised, Confessor? The brow seemed to ask. This world is a cold place, and young girls mean nothing to those who rule it...
The Confessor couldn´t help a small frown. For a heartbeat she saw Cara´s face again as she stood in the devastated temple, realization of her sister´s fate blossoming on her features, and again she heard that heart wrenching sound of a broken voice as she had called the name of her dead sister. She couldn´t say for sure, but she felt an understanding sparkling in her mind for that woman, who had faced too much cruelty to feel the same heartache as she felt for the fate of an unknown girl.
“How is it that this boy is principal in your village. He´s not yet a man even...” The Mord Sith demanded to know. This question had burnt on her tongue since their fight.
Chuckling the old hag looked briefly up and met her angry stare and answered with er rasping voice:
“ He is a Young Leader, my dear. Has been educated in the Lord´s Youth Camps, where only the best survive; has been sent back to us, two years ago. Damned be that day...”
Cara shot Kahlan a side glance.
“Martha? What are the Youth Camps?” the Confessor asked hesitatingly. She wasn´t sure whether she wanted to know...
“More than a decade ago, Lord Rahl began his education program. He´s gathering kids from the villages and towns. Brings them in large camps and raises them in his own spirit..”
“He takes them away from their family? To teach them...what?”
“...being his extended arm in the lands.” she said. The young girl approached with a balm, in which she had milled the herbs and pounded bark. Martha took it and started lubricating Haron´s wound carefully.
“So, this will help you. Brings blood. Takes heat. Heals... Gonna be okay, son, gonna be okay...” she murmured.
Cara stared at her wordlessly. A deep frown had settled on her forehead. Her mind was working with the few information she had gathered.
“What do you think, Cara?” Kahlan demanded to know.
Her companion looked up, still frowning, and shortly chewing on the insides of her lips.
“Looks like this new Lord Rahl has a brilliant mind.” she finally offered. Dismayed, Kahlan raised a brow.
“Taking children from their family? Forcing them to live in camps and teaching them - I don´t know what - is brilliant in your eyes?” Cara sent her a dark grin and nodded slowly.
“Isn´t it brilliant to raise a whole army of young people who have forgotten about their family? I´m quite sure I have a very clear idea about what happens in these camps. In the Rahl realm, pain and torture have always been appreciated tools in education. He will force them to fight against each other, to not trust anyone except their Lord. They will find home only in his ideas. They will not know about friends. They will learn to think what he thinks, to do what he expects them to do. To feel honored if he remembers their name, to be blessed with his cruelty.
Certainly, these camps generate the most loyal and devoted army the world has ever seen. And those who do not fit, will never leave them...If they´re lucky, they just die on the way. If not...” the grin on her face was frozen in a dark, razor-sharp line, “their pain will serve in the education of their companions.”
Watching her stony expressions, Kahlan felt a warm wave of empathy rolling through her chest. This woman wasn´t just fantasizing about horrible things. She had experienced them in all detail. Though she didn´t seem to rate these ideas, there lay a hint of bitter knowledge in her voice, that touched Kahlan, and she briefly wondered what kind of girl Cara must have been, before the Mord Sith had taken her away...
Her train of thoughts was interrupted when the young girl, Martha´s apprentice as she had heard, tugged at her sleeve, and, when she turned, she winked her close to see what they had brought in that large bundle the girl had carried on her small shoulders.
As she had ordered the redhead before, he had packed some urgently needed supplies. She found two blankets, that were astonishingly light, though soft and thick enough to keep one warm even in these cold autumn nights. A pot and some water tubes, skillfully made of goat skins, a few mugs and blades, ham and bread, and at least a large piece of soap were handed to her. A warm smile blossomed on the young girls face as she saw Kahlan sigh when she touched the soap. Though she cast her eyes to the ground immediately when the Confessor touched her arm and murmured her thanks.
Looking up, searching for the Mord Sith to show the items, she found the blonde had left. And shortly after she heard the whining of the Young Leader as he was shoved through the bushes with the help of an agiel. How the Mord Sith had guessed that she needed to interrogate him, she didn´t know. But she sent a smile towards the blonde, and watched again how her green eyes darkened as she furrowed her brows. The girl at her side had stiffened and retreated a few steps, until she cowered at a small trunk in a respectable distance to him. He fell to his knees when he reached Kahlan.
“Mistress, please tell me what I´ve done that you sent her to punish me. I regret it. I´ll do anything to make up for it...”
The brunette regarded him thoughtfully. A Young Leader. She rated his age on maybe 17 winters. Yet, he had been the one who had ordered a troop of militia as if he had been born to the task. She had heard his arrogant voice, had seen his anger burning on his face when Cara had mocked him. He had had no doubts about his position. And certainly, he had shown his liability to cruelty...
“Who are you?” she asked. He winced a little at her cold tone.
“I am Kyle Bornister, Mistress. Your faithful servant. I am the Young Leader of Blackthorne, send by Lord Rahl to initiate law and order in our village.” It sounded as if learned by rote.
“Well, Kyle, I want you to tell me everything you know about your Lord Rahl. And about the camp you´ve been in.” She took a seat on a log and looked up at him expectantly. At her side the Mord Sith took a stance, her hand warily at the hilt of her agiel.
And for the first time Kahlan didn´t feel the threat that she had seen in this gesture before.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Kahlan woke from a shake at her shoulders, and in a blink she moved, with her dagger tightly gripped. Ripped out of her sleep, she needed a moment to realize it was the Mord Sith who had woken her, now staring at her hand close to her throat, which pushed the sharp blade of the dagger against her skin. The blonde had frozen. Not one muscle jerked as she waited for Kahlan to come around. Until, finally, Kahlan mumbled an embarrassed apology and pulled her hand with the weapon away from her.
“So, not yet convinced that I´m on your side?” The smirk on Cara´s lips mocked her.
“I may assure you, Confessor. For now there is no need to sleep with your daggers in hand...”
Kahlan felt a little abashed, but put a defiant tone into her words anyway.
“I told you, last time I trusted a Mord Sith, someone dear lost her life!”
The smirk died. And Cara snarled with narrowed eyes:
“And I told you, I am not! like Denna. I am no snake, wiggling under your blanket to set the bite while you´re asleep. I prefer the open, honorable fight.”
Cara stared her down. The feeling that had warmed her belly a few moments ago, when she had watched the Confessor sleep, had vanished into thin air. Though, after all the familiar anger that had replaced it, she liked much more.
“What is it?” she heard the brunette ask and frowned.
“Why have you woken me up? It´s long before sunrise...”
Cara huffed and turned to point at Haron at the other side of their small fire., who had sit up and held his head as if trying to calm the aftermaths of a night spent carousing.
“He´s awake. We can leave.”
The blonde stood and walked to the horses, that were bound to a tree.
Still a little ashamed, not for her reaction, but for being caught, Kahlan rose and walked to Haron. Seeing her approaching, he tried to stand and bow, but groaned and bent over, his hand holding his side where the wound was still healing.
“Mistress... I am sorry. Please forgive me, I do not remember what happened... How..?”
Kahlan touched his arm and forced him to sit down again.
“Everything is fine, Haron. I am not angry at you. You´ve been injured and almost died. But I am glad you didn´t. How do you feel? Are you able to ride a horse?”
“I am...” he nodded. “I am fine, Mistress. I think I can..” He tried his best to avoid the pained tone in his voice, but Cara had approached and gripped his west and pulled him to his feet.
“Stand, when your Mistress speaks to you, man!” She grinned coldly as he groaned again. Kahlan watched, but didn´t say a word. She sensed the Mord Sith was close to bursting after they had spent two days in this little clearing, waiting for Haron to come around after Martha had treated his wound. Cara had been like a savage beast, locked into a much too small cage. She had spent the whole days walking around restlessly, hunting for a while, exploring the woods around them... and Kahlan was sure she had visited Blackthorne again to see whether the redhead Kyle had done as ordered. But she didn´t ask.
And she didn´t need to. On their second day here, Cara had brought horses. Wearing a deeply smug expression on her face that spoke of the moment of pleasure she had had when she had nudged the stable owner into... contributing; in a “very important affair that Kyle, your Young Leader, needs horses for...”
Since they had heard how Lord Rahl´s newly introduced political system, that widely based on fear and treason - feelings, that of course had always been well known tools in the hands of the Rahl family, but seemed to be shaped now into perfidious perfection with the idea of the Young Leaders - the blonde Mord Sith had thought about how easy people should be tricked to do things they believed were ordered by their Young Leader...
They feared them. Horribly.
And they had good reasons to do so.
As Kyle had told, only the young guys that showed the greatest devotion to Lord Rahl, but stuck at nothing if it came to their families and companions, who proved their unscrupulousness in many different ways during the years of training, became the chosen ones. All the others in the same age, who hadn´t failed in their training and hadn´t lost their lives during the years, but hadn´t proven to fulfill the expectations set into them, returned to their villages, truckling to their Young Leaders. They had witnessed what horrible deeds these young men were capable of. And rumors spread soon from their lips, emphasized in the very first days after their return, when they took their own family under arrest and started a cleaning in their villages, that cost lifes of many and filled many dungeons all over the realm... Until people didn´t dare to speak against them, not even to look at them. Fear became their new neighbors, and those who spied on their friends and betrayed them to the Young Leaders and their men, were rewarded with privileges...
Thus, the villagers were frozen in fear and mistrust. Even on friends and family could no longer be relied on. Their own children would sell them out for obtaining acceptance from their new idol, the strong and smart Young Leader...No one could be trusted. So, they all felt forlorn and crestfallen.
Which made them easy victims and much easier to lead...
When Kyle had told his own story, without showing the slightest hint of remorse or passion, his voice only hitching for a heartbeat when his Mistress gasped a few times, Kahlan had felt her blood running cold.
This... was far more obnoxious and inhuman than she had ever thought possible.
It meant that people no longer had a home, for their homes were prisons to their minds.
It meant that peace and justice had become fairy tales from the past. That liberty was lost.
It meant... that no chains were needed to make her people a people of slaves...
When Kyle finished his words, dead silence had hovered over them. Cara had watched wordlessly how Kahlan´s shocked expressions changed, how she steeled herself and put a mask on her features that didn´t betray the storm that was blustering through her heart. Cold, hard eyes had taken the color of a moonless night as they stared the young redhead down, not caring as he squirmed desperately.
“Are there girls, too?” the Mord Sith chipped in.
Kyle shook his head, seeming a little scandalized.
“Girls, - and women, - can´t be soldiers. They are not meant to fight, nor to lead!! They have not the heart, nor the mind to do so. Women stay in their family until a man comes and takes them home. They will raise his children and see that he is well cared for. That is the place the Creator has provided for them...” He spoke with deep conviction; he didn´t seem to acknowledge that his Mistress and her companion didn´t fit into this natural role...
Cara´s eyes were small slits as she set her jaw. But before she could answer, Kahlan took over again.
“How many Young Leaders are out there?” she asked, and her voice was rasping.
“I do not know, Mistress;” he almost whined. “but there are many... I was 8 when Lord Rahl called for me. And in our camp we were the third generation. I´ve been there for 8 years, and every year new abiders joined us, 40, 50 each year... Though, only half of us made it through... ”
Kahlan shut her eyes close, breathing deeply in and out, swallowing against the lump in her throat.
The Mord Sith stood aside; her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed. Watching Kahlan´s reaction with interest. She found it fascinating how that woman, that, she knew, was just eaten away by some ridiculous, but nonetheless heartbreaking emotions, showed a regal stance where the blonde would have expected tears and despair, soft as she had learned the Confessor was.
Though, obviously the Mother Confessor wasn´t that soft after all. At least, she was strong enough to put her feelings aside and be the Queen she probably used to be in her former life...
The blonde couldn´t help that tiny spark of appreciation blossoming in her mind, that improved when Kahlan´s eyes met her own glance and blue sapphires flashed with determination.
“We need to set an end to this.”
Tilting her head Cara raised a brow. Had that sounded like an accusation?
“Do we?” she drawled. “Well... it´s not because of me... that we aren´t on the road yet..”
Kahlan ignored her, turning towards Kyle again and giving him instructions for his return to Blackthorne.
His eyes widened as he listened. But he didn´t question her orders. Instead he nodded eagerly, happy to finally get the chance to please her. And then he had returned to the village, Martha and the young girl on his coat-tails.
:::::::::::::::::::
Now, that Haron was awake and seemed to be strong enough to ride, Kahlan could sense the Mord Sith´s impatience growing. Being condemned to faineance for two days had nagged at her and Kahlan was glad she hadn´t vanished as she had last time. But while Cara seemed gruff, she seemed determined to stay at her side anyway. And though she wouldn´t admit it, Kahlan felt confident with her. In this world they would probably face more situation in which they would need each other.
The more so, since she was decided to free her people. Village by village, if that was the only way.
When they reached the main road, Cara looked at her expectantly.
“What´s your plan, Confessor?”
“We´re heading to the People´s Palace. And we will stop at each and every village on the way.”
She watched a brow rise over sea green eyes and smiled amused at the blonde, which made Cara´s forehead furrow immediately. These smiles were something she was still not sure how to take them.
“Don´t worry, Cara. The way I see it, I think you´ll probably will enjoy these stops more than I will...”
And she set spurs to her horse and galloped into the dark...
t.b.c.