I Will Not Surrender - Part IV. Aydindril Alight (4/11)
Title: I Will Not Surrender - Part IV. Aydindril (4/11)
Author: burning_arrow
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: R/NC-17 (varies by chapter and I’m not going to rate each one)
Warnings: Richard’s been dead from the get go…that is all.
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: 5,493
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 IV.: While dragons attack Aydindril, Cara and Belle make their way back to the Confessor’s Palace, while Kahlan tries to find Zedd.
A/N: At this point if you’re reading this, you know my notes. If this is your first time with this story, I suggest going back to Part I - or else you will be confused.
A/N2: Sorry for the slightly late post. It was a hectic weekend and although this part has been written for a while now, I dragged my feet on editing.
A/N3: I couldn’t get these lyrics out of my head while editing this part. So I decided to share:
“And the only solution was to stand and fight
And my body was bruised and I was set alight
But you came over me like some holy rite
And although I was burning, you're the only light” - Florence + the Machine
Part I, Part II, Part III
Part IV. Aydindril Alight
Confusion spread atop the wall as word of dragons raced down the line of archers. Some soldiers began to move towards the gangways while others peered out into the sky in disbelief. Voices rose in excited conversation. Then one of the archers caught sight of a speck in the sky and shouted, pointing in its direction. The speck was growing in size and moving toward them rapidly, followed by more distant dots. As the outlines of wings became clear to everyone on the wall, confusion devolved into chaos. Archers began to run in every direction. Cara bellowed to make herself heard above the din of panicking soldiers.
“Everyone clear the wall! MOVE!”
She turned to find Belle still staring at the incoming creatures, the blacksmith’s mouth agape and her eyes wide with wonder and terror. Cara gave the blacksmith a hard shove in the direction of the nearest gangway. The shove propelled Belle into motion and she began to run, Cara and the General following closely.
“I don’t understand,” shouted General Etiel. “I’ve never heard of red dragons fighting the wars of men. A red dragon hasn’t been seen in this land in a thousand years and now there are six! What in the Keeper’s name is going on?!”
“I don’t bloody well know, but I think we’re about to find out,” Cara called back, her hand on Belle’s shoulder, forcing the blacksmith to go even faster. The Mord’Sith’s only thought was to get to the horses and get back to the Mother Confessor. They were a third of the way down the stairs of the inner wall when the first dragon reached the gates. Cara dared not look up, but she could hear the terrified scream of men and the swish of gigantic leathery wings cutting the air overhead. The stairs shook as the beast lowered its massive weight down atop the wall. Cara heard the intake of breath into enormous lungs. She spotted one of the alcoves used for the arrow slits just two steps down. Cara shoved Belle roughly inside, cramming in behind her.
The roar of the dragon’s fire sounded like an avalanche sweeping down a mountain, and brilliant jets of orange and yellow flame streaked down the wall past their meager shelter. Cara and Belle squeezed as far as they could into the tiny space meant for a single man, shrinking away from the storm of fire and sound. The force of the dragon’s exhalation whipped up a fierce wind that tore at their hair and clothing. The stone overhead warmed alarmingly, but it protected them nonetheless. General Etiel was not so lucky - he was caught on the open stairs and he was blasted away when the fire hit him, his body plummeting from the stairs to the ground far below. If he screamed Cara could not hear it over the deafening tumult. The heat was intense and though the flames did not touch them, Cara could feel the side of her face nearest the fire begin to redden and burn.
As soon as it began it seemed to end. The noise and the flames disappeared. The screams of the dying flooded the sudden silence. The acrid stench of burning flesh assaulted Cara’s nostrils. Her stomach lurched, but there was nothing she could do for those men now. She must get to the Palace.
Peering out from under their tiny bit of cover, Cara chanced a glance up the wall. The dragon must have pivoted its position, because instead of the huge head she had been expecting, all she could see was a long, sinewy, crimson tail thrashing the air.
“Go now!” she said, grabbing at Belle’s tunic. They scrambled down the last of the stairs. Cara felt naked and exposed on the wall. More roars followed as other dragons landed, but the creatures’ attention focused on the defenders atop the wall. As Cara and Belle neared the bottom of the stairs, the earth beneath their feet heaved, and chunks of mortar rained down around them. Belle stumbled as the ground lurched. Cara narrowly dodged a slab of stone the size of her head as it flew past and shattered at her feet. A tremendous crash, followed by another, filled the air. The wall shuddered with each booming impact.
“They’re breaking down the city gates,” remarked Cara, her voice sounding remote even to her own ears. Another crash split the air, followed by the screech of metal protesting as the outer gates gave way.
“The Spirits have mercy,” whispered Belle as her eyes roamed not over the gates, but around the city sprawled out in front of them. “The city will be unprotected. All these people.”
“I know.” Cara’s voice was grim. “There’s no time to warn them. We need to get to the Mother Confessor. We need to get her out of Aydindril.”
The horses whinnied in panic, tugging against the straps that tied them to the hitching post. With a quick slice from a dagger she kept hidden in her boot, Cara cut away the knots restraining them, grabbing the reins before the horses bolted. She vaulted onto her horse and jammed her heels into his sides. He leapt forward in fright. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Belle was behind her on the chestnut mare. As they raced up the streets to the Palace, Cara could see the faces of people peering fearfully out windows and open doorways, their mouths slack with shock as the Mord’Sith and her companion barreled past. She could do no more for them than the soldiers on the wall, and the thought sickened her, but she forced the feeling from her mind. She tightened her grip on the reins and urged her steed to fly. Her focus was on only one woman.
A large shadow swooped low over them, blotting out the sky overhead. Cara wheeled her mount about, forcing him down a side street and away from the dragon’s fire that she assumed would follow. Instead arrows rained down from above, clattering against cobblestones and buildings. One arrow whizzed by so close that Cara could hear it rush past her ear. Cara’s eyes followed the dragon as it made its way for the Confessors Palace. The crimson scales on its back, head, and tail contrasted with the brighter flame red of the scales covering its underbelly. Powerful muscles rippled in its shoulders as its broad wings lifted and fell. A massive collar wrapped around its neck, as thick around as a man. What dragon would suffer a collar? From what Cara knew of red dragons, which was precious little, they were incredibly independent and disdainful of humankind. Yet, incongruously, atop the dragon moved creatures far more familiar to Cara.
“There are men on that dragon,” she spat out. Her voice seethed with rage. “I may not know how to kill a dragon, but I know what to do with men.”
A jerk of the reins and she gained the main road again, Belle following in her wake.
***
Atop a turret at the Confessors Palace, Kahlan watched with dread as black, oily smoke billowed above the main gates. Dragons, here in Aydindril. She would not have believed it if she could not see the winged monsters for herself, wheeling in the sky and unleashing fiery destruction on the forces stationed at the wall. Cara’s down there somewhere. Her heart clenched for a moment, but she shook her head. Now was not the time - her people needed her to lead. She must see Zedd. No conventional weapon was going to stop this assault. She needed the wizard’s magic.
“Follow me,” she ordered to the two guards stationed close to her. She had already ordered the rest of the Home Guard officers to evacuate the city and the Councilors, but she begrudgingly accepted the protection that her military advisors had insisted she keep. They snapped to attention and scurried after her as she strode toward the stairs. She had almost reached them when one of the guards caught her attention.
“Mother Confessor, look.” Two of the dragons had broken off from the massacre at the wall and were headed straight for the Confessors Palace.
“Get below,” ordered Kahlan as she plunged through the stone archway. As she and the guards raced down stairs and along corridors she threw quick glances out the windows they passed. The dragons hovered over the Palace and dark shapes dropped from their scaly backs into the courtyards below. Other figures fired arrows down on the Palace’s defenders from atop their winged mounts. She could hear the sounds of battle growing louder.
“Watch out, Mother Confessor!” yelled one of the guards as two man came rushing down the corridor at them, swords drawn. The first attacker went down under the guard’s blades, but the second barreled past the soldiers, bringing his sword around in a ferocious backswing. Kahlan countered the blow with her daggers and whirled beneath his arm, her white dress fluttering behind her. She struck as swiftly as a snake, her hand finding his throat. Thunder without sound reverberated through the corridor and menacing black swirled in her eyes. The man’s eyes became inky pools as he slid to his knees before her.
“Command me, Confessor,” he said reverently as the black faded from his eyes.
“Who are you and what do you want?” snapped Kahlan, her blue eyes cold and bright.
“I am Captain Somerset, formerly of the Dragon Corps. I joined Wizard Prentax a few months ago when he promised that he would bring down the Mother Confessor. Forgive me, Mistress,” he begged.
“Who is Prentax?” pressed Kahlan.
“He is a wizard of the Old World. He controls the dragons and he cast the concealment spells that allowed us to approach Aydindril undetected. He wants to rule in your place. He says you are too weak to command both the Midlands and D’Hara. He wishes to conquer and unite the lands.”
“They are already united under my rule,” snapped Kahlan.
“There are Mord’Sith and Dragon Corps officers who do not see it that way, my Lady. Let me fight them for you. I will lay their bodies at your feet.” The man’s eyes shone with the unnatural devotion of confession.
“You will protect us while we make our way to the Wizard’s Keep,” Kahlan commanded. “I need to see the First Wizard.”
Somerset scrambled to his feet and led the way, shielding the Mother Confessor with his body. The guards followed close behind, protecting their flank. Their small band progressed slowly, fighting to gain ground. Skirmishes had broken out all over the palace as invaders dropped from the dragons and scattered in small squads throughout the palace grounds. Two more dragons had arrived, delivering additional reinforcements of rebel warriors. The palace was under siege from all directions at once. The only mercy was that the dragons were not using their breath to scorch the castle. Instead they picked off the Home Guard in ones and twos, snatching the soldiers up in wicked, curved claws, crushing them, and letting their lifeless bodies drop to back to the ground.
“Why aren’t the dragons using their fire?” asked Kahlan. She felt both perplexed and disgusted by the dragons’ behavior, yet oddly thankful. None of them would have been safe from their flames. Her troop had made it down to the ground floor of the Palace, but now they paused for a moment to decide how they could leave the palace safely. The four of them crouched behind an archway leading to the central courtyard, beyond which lay the main gates.
The Confessor watched helplessly as one of the dragons dove onto a small battalion of Home Guard that had formed a tight defensive knot in the center of the yard. Several archers fired on the dragon, but their arrows bounced uselessly off the thick, scaly hide. As she heard their screams of pain and terror, it was all she could do not to run to her men, to fight beside them. The group of soldiers broke rank and ran for cover, only to be set upon by the invading warriors waiting in the shadows. She bit the inside of her cheek in anguish and frustration as they were cut down, and she could taste the coppery flavor of her own blood.
Somerset replied, “The wizard ordered that the Palace be kept intact. He wishes to rule from Aydindril, from the First Chair. Just as he wished that you be taken alive.”
“But you tried to kill me!”
“I am truly sorry for that, Mistress. I acted against orders. I believed that we were all better off with you dead.” He hung his head in shame at his own words. Shame Kahlan knew very well that he would not feel if not for the confession. She dismissed his contrition with an impatient wave.
“There is a secret passage at the end of the east corridor which should get us to the outer wall of the Palace. Though it’s a longer way to the Wizard’s Keep, we can’t risk being caught in the open with those - things.” She bit down on the last word. Aydindril was falling and it seemed she was utterly incapable of doing anything about it. “We’re losing time. Keep moving.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
As they rose to leave, four Home Guard stumbled through the archway, having managed to escape both the dragons and the attackers. Each gave a quick salute to the Mother Confessor, hand over his heart. They were battered and bruised, their faces dirty with sweat and grime, their expressions haggard. One man bled profusely from a cut on his arm, while another sported a deep gash across his forehead. Yet the sight of the Mother Confessor seemed to revitalize them.
Kahlan looked each man in the eye, studying each one, knowing it was likely the last time she would see any of them alive. When she spoke her voice was impassive and clear, with no sign of the sympathy she felt for each of them.
“You will stay here and guard our flank. You will allow no one to pass.”
“Yes, Mother Confessor!” they cried in unison. Without a second look, the Mother Confessor turned to go.
***
Cara’s heart sank as she brought her horse to halt just outside the main gates of the Palace. Four dragons circled overhead, almost lazily, one occasionally dropping then rising again. A melee filled the wide courtyard beyond the gates, the sounds of shouts and clashing metal reverberating off the Palace walls. How in the Underworld was she going to find Kahlan in this mess? She knew Kahlan would want to fight, but Kahlan was not foolish. The Mother Confessor would know she was out-matched and would be looking for a way to turn the situation around. That led to the wizard. He would know what to do about dragons, if anyone in Aydindril did. But would Kahlan have managed to get to the Wizard’s Keep already?
Cara chewed her lip in a second of indecision, and then rolled her shoulders, as if shrugging off her doubts. There was only one way to find out where Kahlan was and it was through those gates. Her hand went to one of her agiels and the weapon whined under her touch, sending a comforting jolt of pain up her arm. The familiar calm of cold fury built up inside of her, the thrill of anticipation for the fight igniting her nerve endings. She drew the agiel from its sheath. She may not have understood many things in this life, but she had been trained for battle since she was a child. She welcomed it like an old friend.
With a sharp cry, she urged her horse forward, her eyes focused on the doors of the hall beyond the courtyard. The stallion shot through the gates, knocking aside anyone in his path, Home Guard and invader alike. She fiercely swung her agiel at any attacker that dared approach. For the space of a breath she thought she would make it unscathed, but then she heard the dragon roar above her. She dove from her horse and rolled to her feet just in time to see the steed being swept up into the sky, screaming and whinnying in terror. The downdraft from the dragon’s wingbeats threw dust in the air and sent it swirling around Cara. She shielded her eyes, coughing.
Almost instantly, four men surrounded her. She reached for her other agiel. Two lunged for her at once, but she twisted away from the axe of the first while bringing an agiel up into the solar plexus of the second. He screamed as his veins turned black with the agiel’s magic. He dropped dead as Cara spun to block a blow from the sword of the third man. A kick to his gut sent him spinning away and Cara ducked as the axe of the first attacker sliced through the air over her head. She brought a fist up under his jaw, and he grunted as he fell, but before she could deliver the killing blow the remaining warrior stabbed at her with his short sword. She barely had time to side-step the lunge, as she used his momentum against him. He stepped too far and she spun around behind him, jamming both her agiels into his back. His body jerked as if electrified, then fell to the ground.
“Cara!”
The warning sounded behind her and she whirled around. The man she had kicked away was bringing his sword down from over his head. She raised her agiels, preparing for the blow. Suddenly he stumbled forward half a step, and the sword dropped from his hands in mid-stroke. Cara watched as his eyes went wide and then closed as the life drained from them. His limp body slumped to the ground, a hatchet buried in the back of his skull. Behind him stood Belle, her blacksmith hammer in her left hand, a mix of shock and pride at her own act mingling in her eyes. Cara knew the feeling well - the rush of conquering an enemy, of still being alive when others were dead.
“You always said I was hopeless with a sword anyway.” Belle gave Cara a lopsided half-smile as she retrieved the hatchet. Cara rewarded her with a quick nod and feral grin.
“Let’s go.”
The two women fought their way into the hall, Cara’s agiels singing and whining as she brought them down again and again. Beside her Belle panted from effort and adrenaline, a trickle of blood dripping from her temple where she had been nicked and her sleeve sliced open from a dagger’s glancing blow, but the blacksmith held her own. At some point, they were joined by two of the Home Guard and soon there was no one left to fight, at least for a moment.
“Report, lieutenant,” ordered Cara.
“The Mother Confessor ordered us to stay here to guard her retreat to the Wizard’s Keep. She left only a few minutes ago. There were four of us, but we’ve lost two already.”
Cara’s heart soared. Kahlan was alive.
“Which way did she go?”
“She headed down that way.” Cara followed the direction of his finger. She knew where that corridor led. She had made it a point of learning all the secret passages of the Confessors Palace. She opened her mouth to issue new orders, but the twang of a crossbow cut her off.
The lieutenant grabbed his throat with both hands, the crossbow bolt jutting out from his adam’s apple, blood pouring out from between his fingers. Cara spun about just in time to hear the second crossbow fire. The bolt hit her square in the meat of her left shoulder, sending her back a couple of paces. She grunted as pain seared down her arm. It hurt, but she’d had worse, and she glared at the three men advancing on them from across the hall.
“Belle, go down the west corridor. Behind the statue of Magda Searus there is a secret passage. Press the top left brick on the south face of the statue’s pedestal. It will open the trap door for you. Find Kahlan. Get her to the wizard.”
“What about you?” asked Belle, a look of concern on her face. The blacksmith’s eyes dropped to Cara’s shoulder, the bolt still sticking out of it.
“I’m fine.” Cara grabbed the bolt and yanked it out, a sneer of contempt on her lips. A mere trickle of blood confirmed that no major arteries had been hit. She examined the quarrel in her hand. The bolt was the compact design of the Midlands, sleek, with a narrow, heavy head effective at piercing ring-mail. She herself would have used the barbed heads of D’Hara - less efficient against armor, but far more damaging to flesh going in and practically impossible to remove without a healer’s knife. She tossed the bolt aside and looked at the last remaining Home Guard soldier, who was bracing for the next attack. “We’ll stay here, give you and the Mother Confessor a little more time. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
“But -“
“Get out of here!” roared Cara. Then the feral grin returned to her face as she turned to face the oncoming men, her agiels humming in her hands. “These men are mine.”
***
Outside the walls of the Palace, an eerie calm draped itself over Aydindril. Ash fell like snow, smudging the white of Kahlan’s dress, as she and her men hurried up the hill to the Wizard’s Keep. Sorrow pierced her heart, for she knew that the fires must have spread beyond the walls and into the city if they were producing this much soot. Aydindril was burning. Her people were dying.
The men surrounding her were wary, expecting to be attacked at any moment, but nothing impeded their progress as they climbed higher and higher. They were nearly to the Keep, when Kahlan heard the pounding of footfalls behind them. She gripped her daggers tighter as she and her men turned to face the new threat, only to find a familiar figure sprinting up the hill. When she reached them, Belle bowed quickly to the Mother Confessor.
“Mother Confessor, Cara sent me,” she blurted out. “She said I should make sure that you got to Zedd.”
“Where is she? Why isn’t she with you?”
“We were attacked. She stayed back to give us more time. She said she’d be along soon.”
“Be along soon?” Kahlan asked incredulously. Kahlan was at once relieved and furious. Her lover was still alive, but in danger. So typical of Cara, to risk her life without a second’s thought and to act as if it were a mere errand that she had to fit in somewhere between eating breakfast and paperwork. Without thinking, Kahlan started back down the hill, but Belle stepped in front of her.
“I know I haven’t known her as long as you have, Mother Confessor, but I’m pretty sure Cara will have my head if I don’t get you to the Wizard’s Keep. Besides, the Mord’Sith has probably finished bashing in heads by now and will be coming up that hill any moment.” Belle’s grim humor fell flat. Kahlan hesitated. She could tell that the blacksmith was almost as worried about Cara as she was, but she also knew Cara would want Kahlan to find a way to stop the attack. That meant finding Zedd. Her mind was made up for her when she heard her name shouted from the top of the hill. Kahlan could see the lanky silhouette of Zedd waving excitedly at her, framed by the towering Keep behind him. He called her name again, beckoning her.
Kahlan scrambled up the final rise of the hill, her small troop behind her. Zedd gathered her up in a brief, fierce embrace.
“Thank the Spirits you’re alive. I wanted to come find you as soon as the attack started but I needed to find this.” His gravelly voice sounded weary with worry.
The wizard held up a large flat amulet, round as a coin but as big as Kahlan’s palm. Intricate lines weaved over and under one another on the silver surface of the medallion. Kahlan looked at the Zedd expectantly.
“What does it do? Can we stop the dragons with it?”
“Bags, no! I’m afraid I don’t know of any way to stop six dragons. Even one would be a challenge for a Wizard of the First Order, but six is well beyond my powers. I’m sorry, Kahlan.” He rested a spindly, sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
“But this -,” she started.
“- is the Amulet of Ishaia. It is the sister to the Oleron’s Amulet, but instead of delivering the Mother Confessor to Aydindril from anywhere in the world, it delivers her to a place safe from Aydindril. Unfortunately, like Oleron’s Amulet, it is only powerful enough for the Mother Confessor and her wizard,” answered Zedd.
Kahlan jerked back from his hand, her face a mask of disbelief. “Zedd, no! I will not leave Aydindril. People are dying. I will not run. And I…we can’t leave -“
“- Cara?” he asked gently, but the edges of his mouth tightened for a moment as if he were irritated. “And what would Cara have to say about that? She would know that the Mother Confessor is more important than all of us. That as long as the Mother Confessor survives, there is hope for Aydindril and the Midlands.”
“Zedd, do you know what you’re asking me to do? I have fled this city once before, when Darken Rahl conquered the Midlands. How can you expect me to abandon Aydindril again?” Kahlan argued, her tone tense with anger and a trace of desperate agony. She felt as if leaving her home - and her lover - would cost her nothing less than her soul.
“It will be only for a short time, child. We will raise the armies of D’Hara and Midlands and retake the city. There are other libraries of magic that will help me figure out what to do about those dragons. If there was any other way, Kahlan, you know I would try.” Kahlan could see the truth in his sad eyes, though she greatly wished she didn’t. Zedd had walked away from his home and his family for over twenty years to save the life of his grandson, the new Seeker - he more than anyone knew what he was asking of her. Yet her heart battled her mind for the upper hand inside her.
“Whatever you decide to do, Mother Confessor, I suggest you do it inside,” interjected Belle. “We’re going to have company soon.”
Enemy riders were galloping up the hill, their horses frothing at the mouth from being pushed hard. The Home Guard soldiers and Somerset took up defensive positions, readying themselves. Zedd grabbed Kahlan’s wrist and tugged her into the Keep. She started to protest and struggle, but Belle grabbed her other arm. Together, the wizard and the blacksmith dragged her farther into the fortress.
“Get your hands off me!” Kahlan yelled.
Belle complied, releasing the Confessor’s arm, only to grab her shoulders and give her a hard shake. Kahlan stared at the blacksmith, each eying the other as if she’d gone mad.
“Please, Mother Confessor, you must go. This is the only way to help Aydindril. We’ll fight as long as we can, but we need you to stay alive. Please!” Belle pleaded. Kahlan gritted her teeth and nodded, bitter bile rising in the back of her throat.
“I’ll be back,” the Mother Confessor swore. “I’ll be back, and the Creator help me, I will bring these men and their monsters down.”
“Thank you,” Belle replied, relief evident in her voice.
“And Belle…find her for me. Tell her I’ll be back for her.” Kahlan’s voice broke. The blacksmith nodded once and bowed. She left the Keep to join Somerset and the others outside. Zedd barred the door behind her and cast a locking charm over it, sealing himself and Kahlan inside.
Taking one deep, shaky breath, Kahlan held her hand out to Zedd.
“I’m ready.”
The wizard placed the amulet in her palm, covering it with his own hand and closing his eyes. His chanting filled the space, the strange, magical words seeming to draw power from the earth and the air themselves. The amulet became very cold in her hand, so cold it began to burn. It felt as if the silver metal was freezing to her skin, and the chill spread into her wrist and forearm, causing her bones to ache. Zedd’s voice grew louder. The icy thread moved swiftly up Kahlan’s arm. When it reached her heart, the whole world lurched and spun. Bursts of light exploded around her. She felt as if she was forward with great speed and standing still at the same time. The physical world disappeared except for the sensation of freezing amulet and Zedd’s hand in hers. Then even that was ripped away, and the Mother Confessor was falling into blackness.
***
Outside the Wizard’s Keep, time seemed to move in slow motion. Belle watched as the riders crested the hill and pounded toward her and the others. They were out-numbered ten to four. She hefted her hammer in one hand and the hatchet in the other, nervously squeezing the handles in her large hands, palms sweating profusely. She swallowed, her heart hammering in her throat. She had never imagined finding herself doing something like this. A small voice in her head kept repeating the same words over and over - but I’m just a blacksmith.
The mounted invaders reached the Home Guard troops first. One Home Guard soldier, a young man barely older than a boy, fell before the onslaught, trampled almost instantly. The other, more seasoned soldier managed to drag one of the attackers off his horse, only to be stabbed in the back by another rider. Somerset went down harder. He ducked and weaved, slaying two of the enemy before taking a sword in the gut and a spear through the throat. Then, Belle stood alone, surrounded by eight very dangerous looking men, the Wizard’s Keep at her back.
A rail-thin man with sinewy arms and a shaggy, unkempt beard spoke to the others. “Take her. Prentax wants her alive. Then search the Keep. We’re to capture the wizard and the Confessor, too, if they’re still here.”
Three men dismounted, approaching her slowly. One leered at her, his lecherous grin revealing yellowing, crooked teeth. The second man was a head taller than either of his companions and had a neck as thick as his head. The last man, a scar over his right eye, spoke to her in a high, reedy voice.
“Now, deary, why don’t you put those tools down and come along quietly? They’re hardly proper weapons anyway, and there’s quite a few of us and only one of you. Be reasonable.”
He was right, of course, but his voice sent shivers down her spine and she tightened her grip on her tools. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and her heart ricocheted against her ribs like a frightened rabbit. She was alone. There would be no Mord’Sith to guard her back this time. Terrified though she was, they’d still have to come get her. She had no intention of moving.
Bad Teeth struck first. Like most men he underestimated both Belle’s strength and her skill, and a powerful blow with her hammer knocked him out cold, his jaw broken. Scarface and Bull-Neck rushed her together, but she dodged both of them, bringing her hatchet down on Scarface’s knee. He shrieked in pain as he went down. Bull-Neck lumbered after her and more men dismounted with angry shouts. She launched the hatchet, which found its mark in the chest of a swarthy, clean shaven man. She spun around, searching for any gap through which she might escape. She barely blocked the blow of a mace aimed at her head, but as she fell back from that attacker, a giant hand that could only belong to Bull-Neck clamped down on the wrist holding the hammer and a second hand gripped the back of her neck. A sharp kick to the back of her leg sent her to her knees. She felt the hammer yanked from her hand. She looked up to see the gaunt, bearded man approaching, a thin, mirthless smile on his face.
“Good try, blacksmith. I like the fight in you. But what Prentax wants, Prentax gets.”
All Belle could think was that she’d promised the Mother Confessor that she’d find Cara and now she was going to break that promise. Then the bearded soldier’s boot met the side of her head, and she thought nothing at all.
Part V
Author: burning_arrow
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: R/NC-17 (varies by chapter and I’m not going to rate each one)
Warnings: Richard’s been dead from the get go…that is all.
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: 5,493
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 IV.: While dragons attack Aydindril, Cara and Belle make their way back to the Confessor’s Palace, while Kahlan tries to find Zedd.
A/N: At this point if you’re reading this, you know my notes. If this is your first time with this story, I suggest going back to Part I - or else you will be confused.
A/N2: Sorry for the slightly late post. It was a hectic weekend and although this part has been written for a while now, I dragged my feet on editing.
A/N3: I couldn’t get these lyrics out of my head while editing this part. So I decided to share:
“And the only solution was to stand and fight
And my body was bruised and I was set alight
But you came over me like some holy rite
And although I was burning, you're the only light” - Florence + the Machine
Part I, Part II, Part III
Part IV. Aydindril Alight
Confusion spread atop the wall as word of dragons raced down the line of archers. Some soldiers began to move towards the gangways while others peered out into the sky in disbelief. Voices rose in excited conversation. Then one of the archers caught sight of a speck in the sky and shouted, pointing in its direction. The speck was growing in size and moving toward them rapidly, followed by more distant dots. As the outlines of wings became clear to everyone on the wall, confusion devolved into chaos. Archers began to run in every direction. Cara bellowed to make herself heard above the din of panicking soldiers.
“Everyone clear the wall! MOVE!”
She turned to find Belle still staring at the incoming creatures, the blacksmith’s mouth agape and her eyes wide with wonder and terror. Cara gave the blacksmith a hard shove in the direction of the nearest gangway. The shove propelled Belle into motion and she began to run, Cara and the General following closely.
“I don’t understand,” shouted General Etiel. “I’ve never heard of red dragons fighting the wars of men. A red dragon hasn’t been seen in this land in a thousand years and now there are six! What in the Keeper’s name is going on?!”
“I don’t bloody well know, but I think we’re about to find out,” Cara called back, her hand on Belle’s shoulder, forcing the blacksmith to go even faster. The Mord’Sith’s only thought was to get to the horses and get back to the Mother Confessor. They were a third of the way down the stairs of the inner wall when the first dragon reached the gates. Cara dared not look up, but she could hear the terrified scream of men and the swish of gigantic leathery wings cutting the air overhead. The stairs shook as the beast lowered its massive weight down atop the wall. Cara heard the intake of breath into enormous lungs. She spotted one of the alcoves used for the arrow slits just two steps down. Cara shoved Belle roughly inside, cramming in behind her.
The roar of the dragon’s fire sounded like an avalanche sweeping down a mountain, and brilliant jets of orange and yellow flame streaked down the wall past their meager shelter. Cara and Belle squeezed as far as they could into the tiny space meant for a single man, shrinking away from the storm of fire and sound. The force of the dragon’s exhalation whipped up a fierce wind that tore at their hair and clothing. The stone overhead warmed alarmingly, but it protected them nonetheless. General Etiel was not so lucky - he was caught on the open stairs and he was blasted away when the fire hit him, his body plummeting from the stairs to the ground far below. If he screamed Cara could not hear it over the deafening tumult. The heat was intense and though the flames did not touch them, Cara could feel the side of her face nearest the fire begin to redden and burn.
As soon as it began it seemed to end. The noise and the flames disappeared. The screams of the dying flooded the sudden silence. The acrid stench of burning flesh assaulted Cara’s nostrils. Her stomach lurched, but there was nothing she could do for those men now. She must get to the Palace.
Peering out from under their tiny bit of cover, Cara chanced a glance up the wall. The dragon must have pivoted its position, because instead of the huge head she had been expecting, all she could see was a long, sinewy, crimson tail thrashing the air.
“Go now!” she said, grabbing at Belle’s tunic. They scrambled down the last of the stairs. Cara felt naked and exposed on the wall. More roars followed as other dragons landed, but the creatures’ attention focused on the defenders atop the wall. As Cara and Belle neared the bottom of the stairs, the earth beneath their feet heaved, and chunks of mortar rained down around them. Belle stumbled as the ground lurched. Cara narrowly dodged a slab of stone the size of her head as it flew past and shattered at her feet. A tremendous crash, followed by another, filled the air. The wall shuddered with each booming impact.
“They’re breaking down the city gates,” remarked Cara, her voice sounding remote even to her own ears. Another crash split the air, followed by the screech of metal protesting as the outer gates gave way.
“The Spirits have mercy,” whispered Belle as her eyes roamed not over the gates, but around the city sprawled out in front of them. “The city will be unprotected. All these people.”
“I know.” Cara’s voice was grim. “There’s no time to warn them. We need to get to the Mother Confessor. We need to get her out of Aydindril.”
The horses whinnied in panic, tugging against the straps that tied them to the hitching post. With a quick slice from a dagger she kept hidden in her boot, Cara cut away the knots restraining them, grabbing the reins before the horses bolted. She vaulted onto her horse and jammed her heels into his sides. He leapt forward in fright. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Belle was behind her on the chestnut mare. As they raced up the streets to the Palace, Cara could see the faces of people peering fearfully out windows and open doorways, their mouths slack with shock as the Mord’Sith and her companion barreled past. She could do no more for them than the soldiers on the wall, and the thought sickened her, but she forced the feeling from her mind. She tightened her grip on the reins and urged her steed to fly. Her focus was on only one woman.
A large shadow swooped low over them, blotting out the sky overhead. Cara wheeled her mount about, forcing him down a side street and away from the dragon’s fire that she assumed would follow. Instead arrows rained down from above, clattering against cobblestones and buildings. One arrow whizzed by so close that Cara could hear it rush past her ear. Cara’s eyes followed the dragon as it made its way for the Confessors Palace. The crimson scales on its back, head, and tail contrasted with the brighter flame red of the scales covering its underbelly. Powerful muscles rippled in its shoulders as its broad wings lifted and fell. A massive collar wrapped around its neck, as thick around as a man. What dragon would suffer a collar? From what Cara knew of red dragons, which was precious little, they were incredibly independent and disdainful of humankind. Yet, incongruously, atop the dragon moved creatures far more familiar to Cara.
“There are men on that dragon,” she spat out. Her voice seethed with rage. “I may not know how to kill a dragon, but I know what to do with men.”
A jerk of the reins and she gained the main road again, Belle following in her wake.
***
Atop a turret at the Confessors Palace, Kahlan watched with dread as black, oily smoke billowed above the main gates. Dragons, here in Aydindril. She would not have believed it if she could not see the winged monsters for herself, wheeling in the sky and unleashing fiery destruction on the forces stationed at the wall. Cara’s down there somewhere. Her heart clenched for a moment, but she shook her head. Now was not the time - her people needed her to lead. She must see Zedd. No conventional weapon was going to stop this assault. She needed the wizard’s magic.
“Follow me,” she ordered to the two guards stationed close to her. She had already ordered the rest of the Home Guard officers to evacuate the city and the Councilors, but she begrudgingly accepted the protection that her military advisors had insisted she keep. They snapped to attention and scurried after her as she strode toward the stairs. She had almost reached them when one of the guards caught her attention.
“Mother Confessor, look.” Two of the dragons had broken off from the massacre at the wall and were headed straight for the Confessors Palace.
“Get below,” ordered Kahlan as she plunged through the stone archway. As she and the guards raced down stairs and along corridors she threw quick glances out the windows they passed. The dragons hovered over the Palace and dark shapes dropped from their scaly backs into the courtyards below. Other figures fired arrows down on the Palace’s defenders from atop their winged mounts. She could hear the sounds of battle growing louder.
“Watch out, Mother Confessor!” yelled one of the guards as two man came rushing down the corridor at them, swords drawn. The first attacker went down under the guard’s blades, but the second barreled past the soldiers, bringing his sword around in a ferocious backswing. Kahlan countered the blow with her daggers and whirled beneath his arm, her white dress fluttering behind her. She struck as swiftly as a snake, her hand finding his throat. Thunder without sound reverberated through the corridor and menacing black swirled in her eyes. The man’s eyes became inky pools as he slid to his knees before her.
“Command me, Confessor,” he said reverently as the black faded from his eyes.
“Who are you and what do you want?” snapped Kahlan, her blue eyes cold and bright.
“I am Captain Somerset, formerly of the Dragon Corps. I joined Wizard Prentax a few months ago when he promised that he would bring down the Mother Confessor. Forgive me, Mistress,” he begged.
“Who is Prentax?” pressed Kahlan.
“He is a wizard of the Old World. He controls the dragons and he cast the concealment spells that allowed us to approach Aydindril undetected. He wants to rule in your place. He says you are too weak to command both the Midlands and D’Hara. He wishes to conquer and unite the lands.”
“They are already united under my rule,” snapped Kahlan.
“There are Mord’Sith and Dragon Corps officers who do not see it that way, my Lady. Let me fight them for you. I will lay their bodies at your feet.” The man’s eyes shone with the unnatural devotion of confession.
“You will protect us while we make our way to the Wizard’s Keep,” Kahlan commanded. “I need to see the First Wizard.”
Somerset scrambled to his feet and led the way, shielding the Mother Confessor with his body. The guards followed close behind, protecting their flank. Their small band progressed slowly, fighting to gain ground. Skirmishes had broken out all over the palace as invaders dropped from the dragons and scattered in small squads throughout the palace grounds. Two more dragons had arrived, delivering additional reinforcements of rebel warriors. The palace was under siege from all directions at once. The only mercy was that the dragons were not using their breath to scorch the castle. Instead they picked off the Home Guard in ones and twos, snatching the soldiers up in wicked, curved claws, crushing them, and letting their lifeless bodies drop to back to the ground.
“Why aren’t the dragons using their fire?” asked Kahlan. She felt both perplexed and disgusted by the dragons’ behavior, yet oddly thankful. None of them would have been safe from their flames. Her troop had made it down to the ground floor of the Palace, but now they paused for a moment to decide how they could leave the palace safely. The four of them crouched behind an archway leading to the central courtyard, beyond which lay the main gates.
The Confessor watched helplessly as one of the dragons dove onto a small battalion of Home Guard that had formed a tight defensive knot in the center of the yard. Several archers fired on the dragon, but their arrows bounced uselessly off the thick, scaly hide. As she heard their screams of pain and terror, it was all she could do not to run to her men, to fight beside them. The group of soldiers broke rank and ran for cover, only to be set upon by the invading warriors waiting in the shadows. She bit the inside of her cheek in anguish and frustration as they were cut down, and she could taste the coppery flavor of her own blood.
Somerset replied, “The wizard ordered that the Palace be kept intact. He wishes to rule from Aydindril, from the First Chair. Just as he wished that you be taken alive.”
“But you tried to kill me!”
“I am truly sorry for that, Mistress. I acted against orders. I believed that we were all better off with you dead.” He hung his head in shame at his own words. Shame Kahlan knew very well that he would not feel if not for the confession. She dismissed his contrition with an impatient wave.
“There is a secret passage at the end of the east corridor which should get us to the outer wall of the Palace. Though it’s a longer way to the Wizard’s Keep, we can’t risk being caught in the open with those - things.” She bit down on the last word. Aydindril was falling and it seemed she was utterly incapable of doing anything about it. “We’re losing time. Keep moving.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
As they rose to leave, four Home Guard stumbled through the archway, having managed to escape both the dragons and the attackers. Each gave a quick salute to the Mother Confessor, hand over his heart. They were battered and bruised, their faces dirty with sweat and grime, their expressions haggard. One man bled profusely from a cut on his arm, while another sported a deep gash across his forehead. Yet the sight of the Mother Confessor seemed to revitalize them.
Kahlan looked each man in the eye, studying each one, knowing it was likely the last time she would see any of them alive. When she spoke her voice was impassive and clear, with no sign of the sympathy she felt for each of them.
“You will stay here and guard our flank. You will allow no one to pass.”
“Yes, Mother Confessor!” they cried in unison. Without a second look, the Mother Confessor turned to go.
***
Cara’s heart sank as she brought her horse to halt just outside the main gates of the Palace. Four dragons circled overhead, almost lazily, one occasionally dropping then rising again. A melee filled the wide courtyard beyond the gates, the sounds of shouts and clashing metal reverberating off the Palace walls. How in the Underworld was she going to find Kahlan in this mess? She knew Kahlan would want to fight, but Kahlan was not foolish. The Mother Confessor would know she was out-matched and would be looking for a way to turn the situation around. That led to the wizard. He would know what to do about dragons, if anyone in Aydindril did. But would Kahlan have managed to get to the Wizard’s Keep already?
Cara chewed her lip in a second of indecision, and then rolled her shoulders, as if shrugging off her doubts. There was only one way to find out where Kahlan was and it was through those gates. Her hand went to one of her agiels and the weapon whined under her touch, sending a comforting jolt of pain up her arm. The familiar calm of cold fury built up inside of her, the thrill of anticipation for the fight igniting her nerve endings. She drew the agiel from its sheath. She may not have understood many things in this life, but she had been trained for battle since she was a child. She welcomed it like an old friend.
With a sharp cry, she urged her horse forward, her eyes focused on the doors of the hall beyond the courtyard. The stallion shot through the gates, knocking aside anyone in his path, Home Guard and invader alike. She fiercely swung her agiel at any attacker that dared approach. For the space of a breath she thought she would make it unscathed, but then she heard the dragon roar above her. She dove from her horse and rolled to her feet just in time to see the steed being swept up into the sky, screaming and whinnying in terror. The downdraft from the dragon’s wingbeats threw dust in the air and sent it swirling around Cara. She shielded her eyes, coughing.
Almost instantly, four men surrounded her. She reached for her other agiel. Two lunged for her at once, but she twisted away from the axe of the first while bringing an agiel up into the solar plexus of the second. He screamed as his veins turned black with the agiel’s magic. He dropped dead as Cara spun to block a blow from the sword of the third man. A kick to his gut sent him spinning away and Cara ducked as the axe of the first attacker sliced through the air over her head. She brought a fist up under his jaw, and he grunted as he fell, but before she could deliver the killing blow the remaining warrior stabbed at her with his short sword. She barely had time to side-step the lunge, as she used his momentum against him. He stepped too far and she spun around behind him, jamming both her agiels into his back. His body jerked as if electrified, then fell to the ground.
“Cara!”
The warning sounded behind her and she whirled around. The man she had kicked away was bringing his sword down from over his head. She raised her agiels, preparing for the blow. Suddenly he stumbled forward half a step, and the sword dropped from his hands in mid-stroke. Cara watched as his eyes went wide and then closed as the life drained from them. His limp body slumped to the ground, a hatchet buried in the back of his skull. Behind him stood Belle, her blacksmith hammer in her left hand, a mix of shock and pride at her own act mingling in her eyes. Cara knew the feeling well - the rush of conquering an enemy, of still being alive when others were dead.
“You always said I was hopeless with a sword anyway.” Belle gave Cara a lopsided half-smile as she retrieved the hatchet. Cara rewarded her with a quick nod and feral grin.
“Let’s go.”
The two women fought their way into the hall, Cara’s agiels singing and whining as she brought them down again and again. Beside her Belle panted from effort and adrenaline, a trickle of blood dripping from her temple where she had been nicked and her sleeve sliced open from a dagger’s glancing blow, but the blacksmith held her own. At some point, they were joined by two of the Home Guard and soon there was no one left to fight, at least for a moment.
“Report, lieutenant,” ordered Cara.
“The Mother Confessor ordered us to stay here to guard her retreat to the Wizard’s Keep. She left only a few minutes ago. There were four of us, but we’ve lost two already.”
Cara’s heart soared. Kahlan was alive.
“Which way did she go?”
“She headed down that way.” Cara followed the direction of his finger. She knew where that corridor led. She had made it a point of learning all the secret passages of the Confessors Palace. She opened her mouth to issue new orders, but the twang of a crossbow cut her off.
The lieutenant grabbed his throat with both hands, the crossbow bolt jutting out from his adam’s apple, blood pouring out from between his fingers. Cara spun about just in time to hear the second crossbow fire. The bolt hit her square in the meat of her left shoulder, sending her back a couple of paces. She grunted as pain seared down her arm. It hurt, but she’d had worse, and she glared at the three men advancing on them from across the hall.
“Belle, go down the west corridor. Behind the statue of Magda Searus there is a secret passage. Press the top left brick on the south face of the statue’s pedestal. It will open the trap door for you. Find Kahlan. Get her to the wizard.”
“What about you?” asked Belle, a look of concern on her face. The blacksmith’s eyes dropped to Cara’s shoulder, the bolt still sticking out of it.
“I’m fine.” Cara grabbed the bolt and yanked it out, a sneer of contempt on her lips. A mere trickle of blood confirmed that no major arteries had been hit. She examined the quarrel in her hand. The bolt was the compact design of the Midlands, sleek, with a narrow, heavy head effective at piercing ring-mail. She herself would have used the barbed heads of D’Hara - less efficient against armor, but far more damaging to flesh going in and practically impossible to remove without a healer’s knife. She tossed the bolt aside and looked at the last remaining Home Guard soldier, who was bracing for the next attack. “We’ll stay here, give you and the Mother Confessor a little more time. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
“But -“
“Get out of here!” roared Cara. Then the feral grin returned to her face as she turned to face the oncoming men, her agiels humming in her hands. “These men are mine.”
***
Outside the walls of the Palace, an eerie calm draped itself over Aydindril. Ash fell like snow, smudging the white of Kahlan’s dress, as she and her men hurried up the hill to the Wizard’s Keep. Sorrow pierced her heart, for she knew that the fires must have spread beyond the walls and into the city if they were producing this much soot. Aydindril was burning. Her people were dying.
The men surrounding her were wary, expecting to be attacked at any moment, but nothing impeded their progress as they climbed higher and higher. They were nearly to the Keep, when Kahlan heard the pounding of footfalls behind them. She gripped her daggers tighter as she and her men turned to face the new threat, only to find a familiar figure sprinting up the hill. When she reached them, Belle bowed quickly to the Mother Confessor.
“Mother Confessor, Cara sent me,” she blurted out. “She said I should make sure that you got to Zedd.”
“Where is she? Why isn’t she with you?”
“We were attacked. She stayed back to give us more time. She said she’d be along soon.”
“Be along soon?” Kahlan asked incredulously. Kahlan was at once relieved and furious. Her lover was still alive, but in danger. So typical of Cara, to risk her life without a second’s thought and to act as if it were a mere errand that she had to fit in somewhere between eating breakfast and paperwork. Without thinking, Kahlan started back down the hill, but Belle stepped in front of her.
“I know I haven’t known her as long as you have, Mother Confessor, but I’m pretty sure Cara will have my head if I don’t get you to the Wizard’s Keep. Besides, the Mord’Sith has probably finished bashing in heads by now and will be coming up that hill any moment.” Belle’s grim humor fell flat. Kahlan hesitated. She could tell that the blacksmith was almost as worried about Cara as she was, but she also knew Cara would want Kahlan to find a way to stop the attack. That meant finding Zedd. Her mind was made up for her when she heard her name shouted from the top of the hill. Kahlan could see the lanky silhouette of Zedd waving excitedly at her, framed by the towering Keep behind him. He called her name again, beckoning her.
Kahlan scrambled up the final rise of the hill, her small troop behind her. Zedd gathered her up in a brief, fierce embrace.
“Thank the Spirits you’re alive. I wanted to come find you as soon as the attack started but I needed to find this.” His gravelly voice sounded weary with worry.
The wizard held up a large flat amulet, round as a coin but as big as Kahlan’s palm. Intricate lines weaved over and under one another on the silver surface of the medallion. Kahlan looked at the Zedd expectantly.
“What does it do? Can we stop the dragons with it?”
“Bags, no! I’m afraid I don’t know of any way to stop six dragons. Even one would be a challenge for a Wizard of the First Order, but six is well beyond my powers. I’m sorry, Kahlan.” He rested a spindly, sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
“But this -,” she started.
“- is the Amulet of Ishaia. It is the sister to the Oleron’s Amulet, but instead of delivering the Mother Confessor to Aydindril from anywhere in the world, it delivers her to a place safe from Aydindril. Unfortunately, like Oleron’s Amulet, it is only powerful enough for the Mother Confessor and her wizard,” answered Zedd.
Kahlan jerked back from his hand, her face a mask of disbelief. “Zedd, no! I will not leave Aydindril. People are dying. I will not run. And I…we can’t leave -“
“- Cara?” he asked gently, but the edges of his mouth tightened for a moment as if he were irritated. “And what would Cara have to say about that? She would know that the Mother Confessor is more important than all of us. That as long as the Mother Confessor survives, there is hope for Aydindril and the Midlands.”
“Zedd, do you know what you’re asking me to do? I have fled this city once before, when Darken Rahl conquered the Midlands. How can you expect me to abandon Aydindril again?” Kahlan argued, her tone tense with anger and a trace of desperate agony. She felt as if leaving her home - and her lover - would cost her nothing less than her soul.
“It will be only for a short time, child. We will raise the armies of D’Hara and Midlands and retake the city. There are other libraries of magic that will help me figure out what to do about those dragons. If there was any other way, Kahlan, you know I would try.” Kahlan could see the truth in his sad eyes, though she greatly wished she didn’t. Zedd had walked away from his home and his family for over twenty years to save the life of his grandson, the new Seeker - he more than anyone knew what he was asking of her. Yet her heart battled her mind for the upper hand inside her.
“Whatever you decide to do, Mother Confessor, I suggest you do it inside,” interjected Belle. “We’re going to have company soon.”
Enemy riders were galloping up the hill, their horses frothing at the mouth from being pushed hard. The Home Guard soldiers and Somerset took up defensive positions, readying themselves. Zedd grabbed Kahlan’s wrist and tugged her into the Keep. She started to protest and struggle, but Belle grabbed her other arm. Together, the wizard and the blacksmith dragged her farther into the fortress.
“Get your hands off me!” Kahlan yelled.
Belle complied, releasing the Confessor’s arm, only to grab her shoulders and give her a hard shake. Kahlan stared at the blacksmith, each eying the other as if she’d gone mad.
“Please, Mother Confessor, you must go. This is the only way to help Aydindril. We’ll fight as long as we can, but we need you to stay alive. Please!” Belle pleaded. Kahlan gritted her teeth and nodded, bitter bile rising in the back of her throat.
“I’ll be back,” the Mother Confessor swore. “I’ll be back, and the Creator help me, I will bring these men and their monsters down.”
“Thank you,” Belle replied, relief evident in her voice.
“And Belle…find her for me. Tell her I’ll be back for her.” Kahlan’s voice broke. The blacksmith nodded once and bowed. She left the Keep to join Somerset and the others outside. Zedd barred the door behind her and cast a locking charm over it, sealing himself and Kahlan inside.
Taking one deep, shaky breath, Kahlan held her hand out to Zedd.
“I’m ready.”
The wizard placed the amulet in her palm, covering it with his own hand and closing his eyes. His chanting filled the space, the strange, magical words seeming to draw power from the earth and the air themselves. The amulet became very cold in her hand, so cold it began to burn. It felt as if the silver metal was freezing to her skin, and the chill spread into her wrist and forearm, causing her bones to ache. Zedd’s voice grew louder. The icy thread moved swiftly up Kahlan’s arm. When it reached her heart, the whole world lurched and spun. Bursts of light exploded around her. She felt as if she was forward with great speed and standing still at the same time. The physical world disappeared except for the sensation of freezing amulet and Zedd’s hand in hers. Then even that was ripped away, and the Mother Confessor was falling into blackness.
***
Outside the Wizard’s Keep, time seemed to move in slow motion. Belle watched as the riders crested the hill and pounded toward her and the others. They were out-numbered ten to four. She hefted her hammer in one hand and the hatchet in the other, nervously squeezing the handles in her large hands, palms sweating profusely. She swallowed, her heart hammering in her throat. She had never imagined finding herself doing something like this. A small voice in her head kept repeating the same words over and over - but I’m just a blacksmith.
The mounted invaders reached the Home Guard troops first. One Home Guard soldier, a young man barely older than a boy, fell before the onslaught, trampled almost instantly. The other, more seasoned soldier managed to drag one of the attackers off his horse, only to be stabbed in the back by another rider. Somerset went down harder. He ducked and weaved, slaying two of the enemy before taking a sword in the gut and a spear through the throat. Then, Belle stood alone, surrounded by eight very dangerous looking men, the Wizard’s Keep at her back.
A rail-thin man with sinewy arms and a shaggy, unkempt beard spoke to the others. “Take her. Prentax wants her alive. Then search the Keep. We’re to capture the wizard and the Confessor, too, if they’re still here.”
Three men dismounted, approaching her slowly. One leered at her, his lecherous grin revealing yellowing, crooked teeth. The second man was a head taller than either of his companions and had a neck as thick as his head. The last man, a scar over his right eye, spoke to her in a high, reedy voice.
“Now, deary, why don’t you put those tools down and come along quietly? They’re hardly proper weapons anyway, and there’s quite a few of us and only one of you. Be reasonable.”
He was right, of course, but his voice sent shivers down her spine and she tightened her grip on her tools. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and her heart ricocheted against her ribs like a frightened rabbit. She was alone. There would be no Mord’Sith to guard her back this time. Terrified though she was, they’d still have to come get her. She had no intention of moving.
Bad Teeth struck first. Like most men he underestimated both Belle’s strength and her skill, and a powerful blow with her hammer knocked him out cold, his jaw broken. Scarface and Bull-Neck rushed her together, but she dodged both of them, bringing her hatchet down on Scarface’s knee. He shrieked in pain as he went down. Bull-Neck lumbered after her and more men dismounted with angry shouts. She launched the hatchet, which found its mark in the chest of a swarthy, clean shaven man. She spun around, searching for any gap through which she might escape. She barely blocked the blow of a mace aimed at her head, but as she fell back from that attacker, a giant hand that could only belong to Bull-Neck clamped down on the wrist holding the hammer and a second hand gripped the back of her neck. A sharp kick to the back of her leg sent her to her knees. She felt the hammer yanked from her hand. She looked up to see the gaunt, bearded man approaching, a thin, mirthless smile on his face.
“Good try, blacksmith. I like the fight in you. But what Prentax wants, Prentax gets.”
All Belle could think was that she’d promised the Mother Confessor that she’d find Cara and now she was going to break that promise. Then the bearded soldier’s boot met the side of her head, and she thought nothing at all.
Part V