fic: storm born - chapter thirty-three
Title: Storm Born
Author: Morgen
Summary: It was supposed to be their one chance to be together. Instead it plunged them straight into a nightmare.
Disclaimer: I don't own LOTS or profit from it in any way. Just worship it from afar.
Rating: PG-14
XXXIII. CAPTIVE
“Is it much farther?” asked Kahlan. Every step the horse took felt like an avalanche beginning in her belly, and Sister Isobel kept them going at a swift, relentless pace. In the time since they’d left Rile and the other sister, Sister Isobel’s eyes had hardened bit by bit. She wore a pinched look that gave her fresh wrinkles around the mouth. And so Kahlan bit her lip and tried not to complain too often. The danger must be very grave for Sister Isobel to be so tense and unsmiling with worry.
But when another pain wrung through her middle, Kahlan couldn’t help herself. She cried out, tears and sweat mingling as they slid down her skin. “Please,” she begged. “How far?”
To her surprise, Sister Isobel reined in her horse and answered her in a softer tone, her gray eyes kind once more. “We’re here.”
Kahlan blinked. They’d stopped in the middle of the desert. On all four sides ran an endless expanse of sand. “But…” she stammered as Sister Isobel raised an arm, red sleeve fluttering. The air tore like a veil, and before them a massive encampment shimmered into being. It rose up bold and brilliant under the blazing sun, a city built of silken tents, each one as red as Sister Isobel’s gown. It looked like a pool of blood spilled on the golden sands. She had never seen magic of such magnitude before, not even Thandor was so well hidden, and this place so close to the Keeper’s stronghold.
She nearly wept with relief. “The Creator has truly blessed you.” Sister Isobel nodded but said nothing, starting forward into the waiting sea of red.
It was a city of women. From the moment they passed the first tent, she saw only Sisters of the Light peering out from between folds of red cloth. Women young and old, beautiful and plain, they were all there, all dressed in red. Unlike the times she’d entered Thandor, there was no singing, no voices lifted up in hymns to the Creator. Everything was utterly still - the only sounds the clink and shuffle of their horses. It was so odd that Kahlan had to remind herself that this was a place of war, that she was riding into a battle camp.
Sister Isobel led her straight in, the women parting like waves before them. No one spoke a word to her, not even in greeting. At last, Kahlan spoke up, “Do they know who I am?”
“They know.” Sister Isobel leaned over, smacking Kahlan’s horse hard on the rear. The animal sprang forward, and Kahlan sucked in a sharp, pained breath as they rode forward at a faster pace, jostling their way down the narrow lanes between the tents. Fresh tears filled her eyes, and she tried just to remain on the horse. Surely they would stop soon, and she would be let down. She wanted only to get down from the horse.
Sister Isobel stopped abruptly. “Wait here,” she said, dismounting in front of a large tent tethered with golden rope. Bewildered, Kahlan watched as she slipped inside, leaving her alone, still on her horse.
With each pain that passed, she thought she would surely die. Growing desperate, Kahlan urged her horse forward a little, peering down the paths between the tents. As soon as she caught sight of a sister, she called out. “Hello!”
The woman froze, staring at her. She was young, with sleek brown hair and rosy cheeks. “Please,” asked Kahlan. “Would you help me down?”
The sister stared at her a moment longer, blinked, and then continued on out of sight without a word. She would have begun to weep in earnest if Sister Isobel had not at that moment reemerged from the tent, carrying a silver goblet in her hands. Reaching up, she passed it to Kahlan. It was filled with a dark, steaming liquid she did not recognize.
“Drink,” said Sister Isobel softly. “You will need it for the birth.”
It smelled rancid, but Kahlan was far past caring. She would swallow anything if it would take even the edge off her agony. She drank the hot, bitter liquid down, and it seemed to settle like a flame around her heart. Instantly she felt hotter, and the world tinged green.
Sister Isobel took the empty goblet from her and went back inside the tent again. The green cast to the day had faded already, as if it had been no more than a trick of her imagination, but she felt weak and wobbly, her lips still stinging from the drink.
When Sister Isobel reemerged, she was followed by four women. Three were young with thick hair and bright eyes shining in solemn faces, and one was older even than Sister Isobel, a stout woman with heavy wrinkles. Kahlan looked at them in hope, wondering which one might help her down from the horse. Perhaps one of them was trained as a midwife. But not one of them reached for her. She watched uncomprehending through a haze of pain as one of the younger sisters walked behind the tent, only to return moments later, leading four horses already saddled.
The women began to mount up. “Wait, where are we going?” she stammered. “I want down.”
Sister Isobel leaned over and took the reins from her, tethering their horses together. With a gentle hand, she brushed back the sweat-dampened hair from her brow. “We can’t stay here, little Kahlan.”
Her thighs trembled against the saddle. “But why?”
“Surely you know of the Keeper’s growing power. Remember the prophecy about your child. That is why.”
Kahlan felt queasy. The words made no sense, but her magic told her that Sister Isobel did not lie.
“We have to hurry,” said the heavyset, eldest sister, her voice impatient. It was the first time any of the others had spoken. Sister Isobel’s head snapped around, and the two women exchanged a look Kahlan did not understand. It felt like a wordless argument, but it was impossible to tell who had won. Neither said anything more. Instead, Sister Isobel clucked to her horse, and Kahlan’s quickly followed.
It was not until they were on the very outskirts of camp that she remembered Richard. Desperately she twisted around in the saddle, trying to see behind her, and nearly fell off.
“What are you doing?” said Sister Isobel in alarm, reaching out an arm to steady her.
Kahlan shook her head. “Richard. He won’t be able to find me.”
“Sister Hanna knows where we go,” volunteered the eldest sister in a clipped voice. Sister Isobel did not bother to slow the horses, and in the next moment, it was too late. The camp shimmered back into nothingness, leaving only a wide expanse of desert. When she glanced back a second time, Kahlan could not even say for certain exactly where it had stood. All the land looked the same.
They rode on and on and on. For a time, there was only the sand flying by and the pain. The sisters set a rapid pace, and it was a constant struggle not to fall off the horse. She wondered if this would ever end. It seemed she would be in pain forever.
When another pain swept through her, tearing a strangled cry from her lips, the squat, irritable sister looked up again. Kahlan thought she saw the woman roll her eyes, but that could not be. “We won’t make it in time at this pace,” she said to Sister Isobel.
“We will.” Sister Isobel was ever calm. “Kahlan is riding as fast as she can.”
“She’d ride faster if we tied her to the horse.”
“If you tied me to the horse?” Kahlan straightened up. She felt like weeping in confusion. Nothing made sense anymore. “I just want down. Please, I just want off this horse. It hurts.” Tears began to stream down her face. Richard would let her down. If she said she needed off the horse, he would stop and let her down, no matter what.
“Just a little farther,” promised Sister Isobel, but Kahlan barely heard her. She wanted Richard. She was about to rein in her horse when she remembered she no longer held the reins. For a moment she considered heaving herself to the side and falling to the ground, it hurt so much to ride, but the fear of causing harm to her child made her endure.
Sweat and tears no longer seemed separate things, and she wept long and loud for Richard. Sister Isobel shushed her patiently, and no one else said a word.
Kahlan had no sense of how long or how far they’d ridden, when suddenly the horses began to balk at going further, digging in and tossing their heads. To her astonishment, instead of urging the animals onward or soothing them, the women simply dismounted. They did not seem displeased or concerned. In fact, they didn’t even appear surprised. Unfamiliar hands helped her down. She had never been so happy to stand before in her life, but she looked up at the skittish horses and her joy faded fast. “Why are they afraid?” she asked, wrapping her hands around the weight of her belly.
“These are dangerous lands,” said Sister Isobel, starting up the very same sand dune the horses had balked at. Kahlan stayed put. Richard had always told her that a lot could be learned by watching animals. They’d been riding through dangerous lands all day, but only now did the horses balk at going further. She glanced back; already they had turned tail and fled, and the sisters seemed not to care in the least. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up, and for a moment, she forgot the pain. It was as if she could hear Richard’s voice inside her head, warning her not to go where the horses would not.
Sister Isobel turned back, her smile all kindness and concern. “Do you need help walking, Kahlan?”
Something inside her squirmed, but she didn’t know why. She came to a sudden decision. “I’m waiting here for Richard.”
The eldest sister looked incensed; her pudgy cheeks flared as red as her gown. “This is ridiculous! Sister Isobel, this has gone on long enough.”
Sister Isobel appeared not to hear her, turning to chide Kahlan. “In the middle of the desert? Be reasonable, dear.”
“But Sister Hanna will bring him here soon, right?”
“Yes, of course. Now move,” snapped the older sister, and Kahlan’s blood ran cold. In a way, it felt as if she should’ve known. Her magic stirred inside her, offering up a warning; the woman lied.
Her gaze flitted from sister to sister, taking in the strangers who guarded her. Only Sister Isobel was smiling. “What’s wrong, Kahlan? It’s only a little farther now.”
Kahlan stood stock still as Sister Isobel drew closer, the same woman who’d hugged and comforted her in childhood. She swallowed the lump in her throat. If she was right, and spirits how she hoped she was wrong, she’d get one chance. She forced herself to wait until Sister Isobel stood right in front of her, and then she staggered forward, reaching out as if to steady herself on the sister’s arm. Swiftly she changed direction, and clamped her hand around Sister Isobel’s throat instead.
Her power surged inside her, ready to rage as free and destructive as wildfire, but she hesitated, staring into the soft, gray eyes of the woman who’d been like a mother to her in Thandor, and who she’d thought had loved her too. She had to ask first, or she’d regret it forever if she was wrong. “Are you a Sister of the Dark? I’ll know if you lie.”
Sister Isobel gave her a quiet smile, and Kahlan felt a sudden pinprick of needle-sharp pain. Looking down, she saw one of the silent younger sisters had edged closer. Her dacra pressed against the swell of Kahlan’s belly, the tip digging in enough to draw a single drop of blood, ruby red against her white gown.
She looked up again and found Sister Isobel smiling still. “Of course, Kahlan,” she said in that same gentle voice. “What did you expect? Now let go of me, or else I do believe Sister Lena here will skewer you and your child like a stuck pig.”
Author: Morgen
Summary: It was supposed to be their one chance to be together. Instead it plunged them straight into a nightmare.
Disclaimer: I don't own LOTS or profit from it in any way. Just worship it from afar.
Rating: PG-14
XXXIII. CAPTIVE
“Is it much farther?” asked Kahlan. Every step the horse took felt like an avalanche beginning in her belly, and Sister Isobel kept them going at a swift, relentless pace. In the time since they’d left Rile and the other sister, Sister Isobel’s eyes had hardened bit by bit. She wore a pinched look that gave her fresh wrinkles around the mouth. And so Kahlan bit her lip and tried not to complain too often. The danger must be very grave for Sister Isobel to be so tense and unsmiling with worry.
But when another pain wrung through her middle, Kahlan couldn’t help herself. She cried out, tears and sweat mingling as they slid down her skin. “Please,” she begged. “How far?”
To her surprise, Sister Isobel reined in her horse and answered her in a softer tone, her gray eyes kind once more. “We’re here.”
Kahlan blinked. They’d stopped in the middle of the desert. On all four sides ran an endless expanse of sand. “But…” she stammered as Sister Isobel raised an arm, red sleeve fluttering. The air tore like a veil, and before them a massive encampment shimmered into being. It rose up bold and brilliant under the blazing sun, a city built of silken tents, each one as red as Sister Isobel’s gown. It looked like a pool of blood spilled on the golden sands. She had never seen magic of such magnitude before, not even Thandor was so well hidden, and this place so close to the Keeper’s stronghold.
She nearly wept with relief. “The Creator has truly blessed you.” Sister Isobel nodded but said nothing, starting forward into the waiting sea of red.
It was a city of women. From the moment they passed the first tent, she saw only Sisters of the Light peering out from between folds of red cloth. Women young and old, beautiful and plain, they were all there, all dressed in red. Unlike the times she’d entered Thandor, there was no singing, no voices lifted up in hymns to the Creator. Everything was utterly still - the only sounds the clink and shuffle of their horses. It was so odd that Kahlan had to remind herself that this was a place of war, that she was riding into a battle camp.
Sister Isobel led her straight in, the women parting like waves before them. No one spoke a word to her, not even in greeting. At last, Kahlan spoke up, “Do they know who I am?”
“They know.” Sister Isobel leaned over, smacking Kahlan’s horse hard on the rear. The animal sprang forward, and Kahlan sucked in a sharp, pained breath as they rode forward at a faster pace, jostling their way down the narrow lanes between the tents. Fresh tears filled her eyes, and she tried just to remain on the horse. Surely they would stop soon, and she would be let down. She wanted only to get down from the horse.
Sister Isobel stopped abruptly. “Wait here,” she said, dismounting in front of a large tent tethered with golden rope. Bewildered, Kahlan watched as she slipped inside, leaving her alone, still on her horse.
With each pain that passed, she thought she would surely die. Growing desperate, Kahlan urged her horse forward a little, peering down the paths between the tents. As soon as she caught sight of a sister, she called out. “Hello!”
The woman froze, staring at her. She was young, with sleek brown hair and rosy cheeks. “Please,” asked Kahlan. “Would you help me down?”
The sister stared at her a moment longer, blinked, and then continued on out of sight without a word. She would have begun to weep in earnest if Sister Isobel had not at that moment reemerged from the tent, carrying a silver goblet in her hands. Reaching up, she passed it to Kahlan. It was filled with a dark, steaming liquid she did not recognize.
“Drink,” said Sister Isobel softly. “You will need it for the birth.”
It smelled rancid, but Kahlan was far past caring. She would swallow anything if it would take even the edge off her agony. She drank the hot, bitter liquid down, and it seemed to settle like a flame around her heart. Instantly she felt hotter, and the world tinged green.
Sister Isobel took the empty goblet from her and went back inside the tent again. The green cast to the day had faded already, as if it had been no more than a trick of her imagination, but she felt weak and wobbly, her lips still stinging from the drink.
When Sister Isobel reemerged, she was followed by four women. Three were young with thick hair and bright eyes shining in solemn faces, and one was older even than Sister Isobel, a stout woman with heavy wrinkles. Kahlan looked at them in hope, wondering which one might help her down from the horse. Perhaps one of them was trained as a midwife. But not one of them reached for her. She watched uncomprehending through a haze of pain as one of the younger sisters walked behind the tent, only to return moments later, leading four horses already saddled.
The women began to mount up. “Wait, where are we going?” she stammered. “I want down.”
Sister Isobel leaned over and took the reins from her, tethering their horses together. With a gentle hand, she brushed back the sweat-dampened hair from her brow. “We can’t stay here, little Kahlan.”
Her thighs trembled against the saddle. “But why?”
“Surely you know of the Keeper’s growing power. Remember the prophecy about your child. That is why.”
Kahlan felt queasy. The words made no sense, but her magic told her that Sister Isobel did not lie.
“We have to hurry,” said the heavyset, eldest sister, her voice impatient. It was the first time any of the others had spoken. Sister Isobel’s head snapped around, and the two women exchanged a look Kahlan did not understand. It felt like a wordless argument, but it was impossible to tell who had won. Neither said anything more. Instead, Sister Isobel clucked to her horse, and Kahlan’s quickly followed.
It was not until they were on the very outskirts of camp that she remembered Richard. Desperately she twisted around in the saddle, trying to see behind her, and nearly fell off.
“What are you doing?” said Sister Isobel in alarm, reaching out an arm to steady her.
Kahlan shook her head. “Richard. He won’t be able to find me.”
“Sister Hanna knows where we go,” volunteered the eldest sister in a clipped voice. Sister Isobel did not bother to slow the horses, and in the next moment, it was too late. The camp shimmered back into nothingness, leaving only a wide expanse of desert. When she glanced back a second time, Kahlan could not even say for certain exactly where it had stood. All the land looked the same.
They rode on and on and on. For a time, there was only the sand flying by and the pain. The sisters set a rapid pace, and it was a constant struggle not to fall off the horse. She wondered if this would ever end. It seemed she would be in pain forever.
When another pain swept through her, tearing a strangled cry from her lips, the squat, irritable sister looked up again. Kahlan thought she saw the woman roll her eyes, but that could not be. “We won’t make it in time at this pace,” she said to Sister Isobel.
“We will.” Sister Isobel was ever calm. “Kahlan is riding as fast as she can.”
“She’d ride faster if we tied her to the horse.”
“If you tied me to the horse?” Kahlan straightened up. She felt like weeping in confusion. Nothing made sense anymore. “I just want down. Please, I just want off this horse. It hurts.” Tears began to stream down her face. Richard would let her down. If she said she needed off the horse, he would stop and let her down, no matter what.
“Just a little farther,” promised Sister Isobel, but Kahlan barely heard her. She wanted Richard. She was about to rein in her horse when she remembered she no longer held the reins. For a moment she considered heaving herself to the side and falling to the ground, it hurt so much to ride, but the fear of causing harm to her child made her endure.
Sweat and tears no longer seemed separate things, and she wept long and loud for Richard. Sister Isobel shushed her patiently, and no one else said a word.
Kahlan had no sense of how long or how far they’d ridden, when suddenly the horses began to balk at going further, digging in and tossing their heads. To her astonishment, instead of urging the animals onward or soothing them, the women simply dismounted. They did not seem displeased or concerned. In fact, they didn’t even appear surprised. Unfamiliar hands helped her down. She had never been so happy to stand before in her life, but she looked up at the skittish horses and her joy faded fast. “Why are they afraid?” she asked, wrapping her hands around the weight of her belly.
“These are dangerous lands,” said Sister Isobel, starting up the very same sand dune the horses had balked at. Kahlan stayed put. Richard had always told her that a lot could be learned by watching animals. They’d been riding through dangerous lands all day, but only now did the horses balk at going further. She glanced back; already they had turned tail and fled, and the sisters seemed not to care in the least. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up, and for a moment, she forgot the pain. It was as if she could hear Richard’s voice inside her head, warning her not to go where the horses would not.
Sister Isobel turned back, her smile all kindness and concern. “Do you need help walking, Kahlan?”
Something inside her squirmed, but she didn’t know why. She came to a sudden decision. “I’m waiting here for Richard.”
The eldest sister looked incensed; her pudgy cheeks flared as red as her gown. “This is ridiculous! Sister Isobel, this has gone on long enough.”
Sister Isobel appeared not to hear her, turning to chide Kahlan. “In the middle of the desert? Be reasonable, dear.”
“But Sister Hanna will bring him here soon, right?”
“Yes, of course. Now move,” snapped the older sister, and Kahlan’s blood ran cold. In a way, it felt as if she should’ve known. Her magic stirred inside her, offering up a warning; the woman lied.
Her gaze flitted from sister to sister, taking in the strangers who guarded her. Only Sister Isobel was smiling. “What’s wrong, Kahlan? It’s only a little farther now.”
Kahlan stood stock still as Sister Isobel drew closer, the same woman who’d hugged and comforted her in childhood. She swallowed the lump in her throat. If she was right, and spirits how she hoped she was wrong, she’d get one chance. She forced herself to wait until Sister Isobel stood right in front of her, and then she staggered forward, reaching out as if to steady herself on the sister’s arm. Swiftly she changed direction, and clamped her hand around Sister Isobel’s throat instead.
Her power surged inside her, ready to rage as free and destructive as wildfire, but she hesitated, staring into the soft, gray eyes of the woman who’d been like a mother to her in Thandor, and who she’d thought had loved her too. She had to ask first, or she’d regret it forever if she was wrong. “Are you a Sister of the Dark? I’ll know if you lie.”
Sister Isobel gave her a quiet smile, and Kahlan felt a sudden pinprick of needle-sharp pain. Looking down, she saw one of the silent younger sisters had edged closer. Her dacra pressed against the swell of Kahlan’s belly, the tip digging in enough to draw a single drop of blood, ruby red against her white gown.
She looked up again and found Sister Isobel smiling still. “Of course, Kahlan,” she said in that same gentle voice. “What did you expect? Now let go of me, or else I do believe Sister Lena here will skewer you and your child like a stuck pig.”