The Divide - Part 8
Title: The Divide - Part 8
Author: Aerows
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: M
Warnings: Contains sex and violence
Disclaimer: Legend of the Seeker and The Sword of Truth do not belong to me, unfortunately. No profit is made from this work, it's just for fun and no infringement is intended.
Summary: The New World is threatened by war. The Mother Confessor, Mord'Sith Cara and the Seeker are forced to make hard choices that will ultimately affect their world.
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) ( Part 6) (Part 7)
Cara's heart was in her throat. Kahlan released her hand with a cry, and fell to the planks of the platform. Thirty thousand men made to rush forward, and were only stopped by her own outstretched hand, and the brutal look of determination from the other Mord'Sith. The crossbow bolt was high in Kahlan's chest, just below her collar bone, but she was losing a lot of blood. Two fingerswidth lower, and it would have killed her instantly. Even now, the outcome wasn't certain.
The only thing controlling the Dragon Corps was that Kahlan had held the Mord'Sith's right hand, making Cara Second and her Consort. With her left hand holding the Sword of Truth above them, Kahlan had wed them under D'Haran law as surely as a wedding in the People's Palace. Remembering the feeling of Kahlan's hand in her own gloved one made her heart clench. Cara could not lose her now.
There hadn't been a Lord Rahl with a wife in centuries. Cara supposed that she shouldn't have expected Kahlan to settle for any other arrangement. The Mord'Sith wanted to be infuriated that Kahlan forced her into marriage, but Cara was so worried, and not entirely displeased with the idea of a permanent position in the Mother Confessor's life. Why wouldn't the woman at least ask her formally? It wasn't as though Cara would have declined, even if Kahlan hadn't been the Lady Rahl. They weren't the most conventional of women, but Kahlan asking, just so Cara could have said no a few times would not have hurt.
As the blood poured out between her gloved hands, however, the Mord'Sith couldn't find it within herself to be angry with the Mother Confessor. Cara could only find it within herself to ache with torment that the woman beneath her hands was injured, and possibly dying. Berdine had a healer by a grip on his collar and was bodily dragging the man to the fallen figure. The surgeon from Renwold bustled up, as well, stringy brown hair flying, anxious to help his liege lady in any way that he could. Cara signaled to Raina.
“Get the journey book and summon the First Wizard. Zedd's book corresponds to the one with a purple mark of flame. It's in my saddle bags.” She hissed with strain. She was relieved she had carried it with her that day. Traveling with the Mother Confessor, Richard and Zedd had taught her a few things about constant preparedness, despite her ready knowledge of the subject even before she had joined them. Raina gave her a look of entirely non-Mord'Sith compassion and then strode off quickly. Berdine was shouting orders at General Cortell to get the army under control now that she had released the healer into Cara's grasp.
First General Telemach positioned the First File as a human barrier between the platform and the men who were now crazed with concern for their Lady Rahl. Rikka had the culprit with an unnecessary Agiel hovering near his throat in warning against getting up, but Cara just shook her head in negation. She wanted him alive. The blond former Captain Tremane was no longer struggling in the dark Mord'Sith's hands, primarily because Rikka had nearly taken his head off with a right cross to the temple. Rikka always did prefer to let her fists do the talking instead of her Agiel.
Cara intended to personally see that Tremane would not live past the headache he was sure to have once he gained consciousness. The subsequent discussion she and her sisters would have with him would see to that. She would personally extract the reasons for why he would dare try to end the life of the Mother Confessor, their Lady Rahl, and she would get answers however inarticulate she expected them to be. Screams of pain and grunts of agony were a language she spoke fluently.
Right now, though, Kahlan lay bleeding beneath her hands, and every other priority faded. The surgeon from Renwold consulted with the D'Haran healer and the two of them bound her wound after Croces, the D'Haran healer, agreed to use the ointment that stopped bleeding provided by Dailar, the Renwolder. At any other time Cara would have been impressed at their ability to work as a team to save Kahlan, but right now, she just wanted to shake them both for not being able to do so instantly. She didn't release Kahlan's hand until her lover was in the field hospital bed, and resting as comfortably as one could with a bolt hole in her shoulder.
* * *
“Captain Tremane” had been hidden by magic that even a Confessor's power of truth-seeing could not unveil. He had been wonderfully unwilling to give up that information; Cara was sure she still had some of his blood on her uniform. That she had only had to revive him twice with the Breath of Life had been a testament to her restraint. His cries of anguish at having been castrated and fed his own body parts had been particularly harsh. Nyda had done it herself; she thought it a fitting punishment, and Cara had not overruled the older Mord'Sith's opinion on a breaking in this case.
Milena had orchestrated Tremane's magical Concealment. She had a Wizard in her court, and Cara was going to remove both that Wizard, and Milena, herself. Tremane's attempt on Kahlan's life had been a last stand, because his “brother” had arrived with the First File. Cara's dread was that there were others under Concealment. The spell had been undetectable to those around Tremane, and it gave credence to how powerful the spell had been. She was glad that the Wizard was joining them; she'd give him ten roast chickens a day if he could protect Kahlan from harm.
Cara had never trusted Tremane. She hadn't said as much to Kahlan, however, and it had nearly cost the Mother Confessor, her Mate, her life. As she rode Kahlan's warhorse to battle, leading twenty thousand of the Dragon Corps to keep them out of trouble, the enormity of it gripped her. The Mother Confessor might have done it in a spectacularly ungracious way, but Kahlan had still proclaimed Cara as hers.
That they were wed under the Sword of Truth was particularly special to Cara. She had never imagined that she would be wed, and had never wanted to be. That Kahlan had taken her as her Mate was as astonishing as the pleasure the Mother Confessor had so surprisingly given her when they had lain together. Kahlan had chosen her. It was only fitting that she answer it. Cara had given Berdine instructions before she left with the Corps.
There was no question that D'Harans wanted vengeance for the attack on their ruler. Cara couldn't have prevented it, even had she not wanted the Lady Rahl's cowardly enemies brought to destruction. She was no stranger to command, and in this, even General Cotrell had not a shred of ire that she assumed it. She was the Consort, now, and Kahlan's Right Hand of Justice. She would fulfill it as she saw fit. It helped that her anger directed the force of the D'Haran troops into doing rather than feeling as their Lady Rahl lay injured.
* * *
Tamarang was exactly what Cara expected it to be, as was Milena. Stout, indolent and gullible described the brown haired woman. Tamarang's ruler had taken the easy road for so long that the Mord'Sith didn't know how they continued to survive with such a person as their head of state. Considering the state the area was in, subsisting was all that they were doing. In order to prosper, a kingdom and the ruler of it had to understand hardship, in Cara's personal opinion. Developing endurance did everyone good, and enduring hardship together was sensible. Once again Cara wondered how Kahlan could have possibly dealt with these people as Mother Confessor. It made sense that this was not a place where Kahlan found allies.
She purposefully rode up in her leathers with a five hundred contingent strong honor guard at her back. It still took getting used to that she would need such, but since Kahlan had taken her as her mate, it was both her right and her obligation to conduct herself in such a way. She took the most eloquent man among the ten thousand that were waiting over the ridge. He was to function as her herald. It made her twitch, but it was what Kahlan would have done, and what Cara thought was best.
The man walked up to the gates, and gruffly styled Cara as Consort to the Mother Confessor of the Midlands, Queen of D'Hara in halting terms. He kept a scowl on his face, and allowed his hand to hover menacingly over his blade the entire time, which made Cara even more pleased. She was satisfied that she could pick out a herald. When the gate was nearly slammed shut, Cara marched forward and advised in a bland voice, “Do that at your peril, Milena.” Her smirk was accentuated by the rest of the ten thousand thundering over the ridge.
* * *
Paltrang smiled as the auburn-haired Mord'Sith led him from the room. None of these fools even suspected for an instant that he had come not to heal the Confessor, but so that he could take control of her. One Rada'Han later, and he would be the leader of the New World. Even the Imperial Order would validate him as rightful ruler of the New World, and then he could do away with that shrew Milena. He just had to get that Mord'Sith out of the way in order to seize this Lady Rahl.
He would pretend to eat chickens and other low things if it got him close to the Mother Confessor. The Mord'Sith Cara needed to die, and he intended to give the red leather-clad woman that embrace. A sudden burning on his neck caused his magic to shimmer, and he fell to his knees. The Wizard he had Concealed himself as was suddenly within Agiel's reach of a dark-haired Mord'Sith with burning dark eyes. When the dark-haired Mord'Sith let go of the Wizard Zedd, there was a predatory gleam rising in her dangerous obsidian eyes.
Paltrang felt a part of himself dying inside. How could he let that witch Milena get him into this? As a Wizard, he had known pain. The auburn-haired Mord'Sith showed him her teeth in a deadly smile. The dark-haired one showed him a look that was nearly compassion for what he was about to experience. Zeddicus Zo'rander's blue eyes burned, and he scared Paltrang worse than the Mord'Sith. Every eye upon him promised that they would show him that what he thought before was pain, had been merely a dark caress.