Redemption, Chp. 3
Chapter 3
Flanked by Zedd and Cara on either side, Richard boldly swept into the Confessor’s Council Chamber.
The members all stood, cheers of congratulations tossed about the room. All of Aydindril had known when the Mother Confessor’s labor had begun and spontaneous celebrations had erupted throughout the city in anticipation of the birth.
“Thank you,” Richard said, holding up a hand to silence them, his face revealing nothing of the distress inside him. “Mother and child are fine.”
The head councilman, Ambassador Thompson, spoke up, “It’s certainly a joyous day when a Confessor is born. What name have you given her?”
Hands clenched at his side, Richard felt the power of the sword at his hip. If he drew his blade, someone was going to die. Eyes of steel probed each of the members in turn. “Ethan” he replied, threatening them with his glare.
The child’s name hung in the air with deafening silence. Slack jawed, no one moved a muscle. “We have a son,” Richard added proudly, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking.
Several members stepped back in horror, all of them gasped. Fearful murmurs instantly buzzed about the room but Richard’s deadly glower quickly silenced them. He moved further into the chamber, his steps and his tone deliberate, “I will convey your well wishes to the Mother Confessor” he mocked. Ambassador Thompson looked aghast. Richard challenged him, “You did say a Confessor’s birth was a joyous occasion did you not?” His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his body trembling with fury. He was ready for battle.
Thompson chose his words carefully, “Lord Rahl…surely your wizard has made you aware of…the consequences…of a male Confessor?”
“I am aware Ambassador, of the barbaric elimination of children: Innocent lives that haven’t even been given a chance to determine their true nature.”
“None has ever shown themselves to be anything but evil,” he interrupted. It’s beyond their control - beyond anyone’s control.”
“How many have been given a chance to grow?” Richard countered. “How many have been allowed to live past their infancy?”
“Enough to know” Thompson replied coolly. “Need I remind you that the previous Mother Confessor, Serena, raised her son with nothing but love and compassion…Secreting him away in the bowels of the Keep, isolating him from the outside world, all in an attempt to let him live, to keep him on the side of good. Yet he lusted for power, killing anyone in his path. Even at such a young age he coveted death…thirsted for blood. Why would your son be any different? Why, after a thousand years of bending to evil would your son choose to serve good?” He looked at Richard with disdain “Because he’s yours?” he scoffed.
Cara was suddenly there, Thompson’s collar fisted in her grip, “You seem to have forgotten who you are speaking to.” She reached for her Agiel, “Let me remind you…”
Richard caught her arm, “Let him speak, Cara. I want him to have his say.” He looked to the other members throughout the room, “I want everyone to have their say.” He knew he couldn’t even begin to reason with them until he’d heard their fears, their anxiety.
Thompson was surprised by the unexpected understanding. He softened his tone to a fearful whisper, “You have the gift. I’m told the most powerful Han in more than a thousand years. Do you realize what that means? What that child would be capable of?” Richard didn’t answer, but kept his eyes on the man. Thompson finally continued “I’m not sure that you do. You were raised in Westland, a place without magic. You’ve never seen the destruction of such a force, one with only a fraction of the power your child surely has.”
Richard was struck by the memory of his time spent in the future, when Kahlan’s son Nicholas, a Confessor with the gift, brought annihilation to all. Nicholas’ Han was not nearly as powerful as Ethan’s would be. It was a sobering thought, and not one he was willing to contemplate. The memory of that brief glimpse suddenly left him feeling defeated. Surely his son wouldn’t grow into a bloodthirsty tyrant, not a child he and Kahlan had created. It was unimaginable.
Richard stood silent for a long while looking through a large row of windows cut into the stone walls. He could see the Keep far off in the distance. Last night’s storms had finally cleared, leaving behind low, gray clouds threatening to consume the tower, high up on the hill. Richard wished he were there now, away from all of this. He wished he could hide himself away in there, in its darkest corners, far from everyone. Not everyone. Kahlan would have to be there. He couldn’t survive without Kahlan. Maybe they could take their son and just hide away from it all, forget this nightmare in the safety of the Keep. He didn’t care that no male Confessor had been able to overcome their lust for power and blood. What if Ethan was the first? What if…
Everyone in the room, Zedd and Cara included, watched and waited; silent as Lord Rahl weighed heavy matters…Perhaps finally coming to terms with something deep inside himself.
When Richard at last spoke his voice was quiet, seemingly lost in faraway thoughts. They all strained to hear him, “What if Serena made a mistake in locking him away?” He looked up, a bit more vigor in his tone, “That isolation kept him from humanity, kept him from having relationships with others.” His voice grew stronger yet, “How could he possibly learn to know love without experiencing it?”
The Ambassador took a step closer to Richard, his voice soft with sympathy, “I mean this with all due respect Lord Rahl, I truly do…but it seems you are looking for our approval on a matter where we can’t give it. This is bigger than being your son, the Mother Confessor’s son. This will affect all of humanity. We can’t allow it. We won’t.” He continued on then as if the matter was fully decided, a formality to his voice, “Due to the circumstances, we can forego custom which calls for the child’s immediate death and allow you some time before the Ritual of the Waters is performed, a chance to ‘say good-bye’, if you will. You have a month. Anything longer and it will just be more difficult.”
Richard was incensed as wrath inundated his body, “Do you really think it matters to me if my son is a day, a year- or 10-year’s old?” he growled. “I’ll not stand by and let him be murdered! If you people won’t listen to reason, I’m not opposed to violence.” In a blink he held the Sword of Truth in his hands, the distinct ring of steel sounding through the room, his chest heaving with fury.
Zedd instantly stilled the blade with a wizard’s web, halting Richard’s swing midair and drawing his temper, “Release the spell!” he seethed, glaring at his grandfather.
Zedd spoke as gently and calmly as he could. “He’s given us a month, Richard. Time not normally afforded. We must use it to our advantage…spilling blood now will not help our cause.”
Richard panted hotly. He knew the wisdom of Zedd’s words but his sword demanded blood. He felt the spell lift. Zedd was leaving it in his hands. Richard fought fiercely the magic, the fury, rushing through him, begging to be unleashed. Cara watched his struggle as he battled to regain control. He looked to be in agony. It took every ounce of Richard’s strength to finally slam the blade back home into its scabbard.
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