The Ride With You Was Worth The Fall (12/16)
Title: The Ride With You Was Worth The Fall (12/16)
Author: ortunata13
Pairing: ara/Kahlan
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Word Count: 7789
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Most certainly, I do not own these characters.
Summary: After months of travel, Cara and Kahlan are ready to face Darken Rahl and rescue the Seeker of Truth. Brace yourselves, things are about to get messy!
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 part 1 | 6 part 2 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
Chapter 12
To The Death
Their approach is as slow as it is methodical. Cara’s eyes flickering from one place to another, catching even the slightest motion, while Kahlan’s gaze is fixed on the structure that is their final destination, which seems to her as if it is rushing toward them. When they are just outside the gates, Cara determines that even the positioning of the guards is identical to what it had been in D’Hara; only here they are lesser in numbers which stands to reason given the smaller building. Gaining access will not be a problem as Cara knows exactly where the ideal opening lies --she’d taken advantage of it many times as a young Mord’Sith out for a tryst. Cara signals to Kahlan, and she follows -- not a role that comes easily to the Mother Confessor but Cara’s plan is a sensible one, and there is ample trust between them.
Thus, without consequence they find themselves behind the north tower, standing before the stairway that ends at the library. Cara takes the lead with Kahlan, daggers drawn, so close behind her that Cara can feel her breath on the back of her neck. Upon opening the door, they find the room empty just as Cara had thought it. Save for Cara’s occasional visits, no one other than Berdine and Raina frequented the room -- Berdine did not take kindly to interruptions. Cara’s brow furrows, struggling to keep at bay the flood of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. It isn’t easy, standing outside the door of a room that is an exact replica of the one in which she’d last seen her closest friend.
When they cross the threshold they both feel it, the unmistakable prickle of magic all around them. Having a deeply rooted disdain for that unpredictable force, Cara instinctively draws her weapon. She’d only ever felt such a force in the Garden of Life which was completely sustained by magic.
Mouth agape, she looks around the room and says, “None of this is real. It’s all a parlor trick.”
“Are you sure?” Kahlan asks.
“I am,” she says. “I don’t know how he’s doing it, but none of this is real.”
“The most powerful wizard in all of the land,” Kahlan mumbles, more to herself than to Cara. “It’s Richard’s Han, Cara, that’s how he’s doing it.”
It makes sense that Richard Rahl, the product of two magically gifted bloodlines, would have enough power to sustain an illusion of this magnitude, but it must come at a high price. If they are correct, Darken Rahl only has a fraction of the Seeker’s Han at his disposal and is relying on the witches for protection. But in the end, all of this speculation is irrelevant. Their mission has not changed: free the Seeker and kill Darken Rahl. “Let’s go,” Cara says, already her eyes are dancing with excitement at the prospect of a good fight.
“Wait,” Kahlan says, “we have to think. Where would Rahl keep Richard? A dungeon maybe?”
Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Cara does her best to measure her words but subtlety isn’t something for which she has much of an affinity. “Master Richard, in a dungeon? I don’t think so.”
While she doesn’t admit it, Kahlan suspects Cara’s right. The Wizard of the Fourth Order gave no indication that Richard was experiencing any sort of hardship. “Where then?”
“Friends close, enemies closer. Your precious Seeker is in Darken Rahl’s private wing.” With that, they walk out of the library, heading for the other end of the palace. She’s never met the Seeker but that he’s a Rahl alone makes Cara despise him. Add to that his designs on the Mother Confessor and it’s safe to say she has only slightly less disdain for him than she does for Darken Rahl himself. It is as she’s entertaining various murderous thoughts that half a dozen D’Haran soldiers turn down the corridor, finding themselves face to face with intruders. Before they can draw their weapons, Cara backhands one of them with enough force to knock him unconscious, while another one feels the blade of her dagger pressed to his throat. “Is this your chosen day to die, D’Harans? If it isn’t, get on your knees.”
D’Haran soldiers not being known for their good judgment, they refuse Cara’s counsel and draw their swords instead. It isn’t long before Cara and Kahlan are standing before a bloody pile of bodies, and in the company of a most solicitous lieutenant. “Try to conserve your magic,” Cara chastises her for being too quick to reach for his throat.
Kahlan rolls her eyes. “I’m a Confessor, it’s what I do. Besides, he’ll come in handy.” She has him move the bodies out of sight and clean up the blood. “Tell no one we are here,” she commands him. “And allow no one into the library.”
In an effort to avoid any further confrontations, Cara opts for accessing Rahl’s private wing via what used to be the Mord’Sith’s quarters. Because it was their purpose to protect their Lord, direct access in case of an attack was made possible by a series of concealed passages to which even D’Haran soldiers weren’t privy. That he turned on those who were most loyal to him only fuels Cara’s need to make him pay for his crimes.
“Stay behind me,” Cara says when they exit a passage that leaves them standing in a section of the palace with which she’s all too familiar. Her admonishment is a timely one for already they can hear the Sisters of the Dark chanting in the main hall.
“Yes, Master Richard,” says a woman as she steps out of a room that back in D’Hara served as a guest room for foreign dignitaries and lovers with which Rahl was particularly taken. Cara and Kahlan stay out of sight, but as soon as the woman turns the corner, Kahlan steps around Cara and rushes into the room where Richard stands shirtless in a pair of red silk trousers. “Richard,” she says, running into his arms.
Richard’s eyes fill with tears the moment her sees her. “I thought you were dead,” he says, cupping her cheeks and pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss -- the Mother Confessor clinging to him as if her very life depended on it. Cara watches the scene from the doorway and waits, but apparently the Seeker’s arms around her suffice to make the Mother Confessor forget the whole of the world as she wipes the tears from his eyes as well as her own, before nuzzling herself into the crook of his neck. Cara stands there for what seems like an eternity listening to their loving exchanges, then takes a step back and closes the door behind her.
***
The Mother Confessor in the Seeker’s arm is, perhaps, the way it should be. It isn’t something she can think on now, not when she’s dealing with this stinging sensation in her eyes and this thing in her chest that makes it hard to breathe and that inexplicable wrenching pain in her stomach that feels as if she’d been stomped on by that huge Cyclops she killed a few days ago. She tells herself the proximity to the bond is causing these peculiar symptoms but she knows it’s a lie. Right now she needs to put all of that out of her mind and focus on finding her former Lord -- for Kahlan’s sake as well as her own. That the thought of dying isn’t at all unpleasant at this moment can’t deter her from keeping her promise to Berdine, and making certain Kahlan remains unharmed.
She knows Darken Rahl well, and while he’s aligned himself with the witches, Cara is certain he’s found a way to safeguard himself from their imminent betrayal. It is in the very nature of those who have power to always seek more of it, her former Lord would often say. Her task, therefore, is to find that safeguard and use it in her favor.
***
“Zedd, is he…?” Kahlan trails off, once she and Richard break from their kiss.
“No,” Richard assures her, “he’s fine. Not happy about the Rada’Han around his neck but he’s still the same old Zedd.”
“Thank the Spirits,” she says, noticing for the first time that Richard is quite comfortable in his lavish surroundings. “Richard, what are you wearing?” It strikes her that he seems more like a willing houseguest than a hostage.
“Oh, just my sleeping clothes. It’s still very early,” he says. Having traveled with him for two years, Kahlan is certain she’d recall if ever before she’d seen him take rest wearing red silk trousers. That he hasn’t once mentioned escape convinces her that something is wrong, very wrong.
“Master Richard, are you ready for me?” asks a barely dressed, buxom blonde who lets herself in without bothering to knock. Kahlan steps behind the door so as not to be seen, but sees enough of the blonde to recognize her as the very woman who lured Richard into the trap that started this mess. That his face has taken on the color of his trousers makes her purpose crystal clear.
“No,” Richard says, ushering her out the door by the forearm. Stammering a bit, he turns toward the Mother Confessor and says, “Kahlan, it isn’t what you think. I. You. I. I thought you were dead. You can’t know what, what that did to me.”
Kahlan tips her head, watching him shift from side to side. “Mm, apparently you found…ample comfort.”
***
If only that image in her head, the one where Kahlan is kissing the Seeker and wiping away his tears, would go away, she’d be able to think clearly. Having no other choice, she steps back into the passage she and Kahlan used earlier. Leaning against the wall, she covers her face with her hands, willing the image to go away, only it doesn’t, not really, not until she reaches for that part of herself that is still Mord’Sith. Shutting out this weakness that seeped in during her travels with the Mother Confessor, she gathers herself enough to step back out, but a faint sound draws her attention enough to make her walk deeper into the passage instead. The farther she walks, the louder it gets until she finally discerns the rantings of a madwoman locked in what used to be a Mord’Sith training room.
***
“Kahlan, it isn’t like that. You have to believe me.” He paces in front of her trying to find the right words but clearly there aren’t any.
“You seem quite comfortable here,” she says, with her arms crossed in front of her. “Is it that you and your brother are of one mind these days? Because Cara and I didn’t risk our -- Cara,” she says, realizing after far too long that the Mord’Sith isn’t by her side. “Cara,” she says again, this time her hands going to the sides of her head. “Let’s go, we have to find Cara,” she says, already heading for the door.
“It isn’t that simple,” he says, stepping in front of her, “if I leave this room without one of the Sisters of the Dark lifting the binding spell, every soldier in the palace will rush in to protect me.”
“Mm, yes, to protect you.” Kahlan says with no small amount of derision.
“Kahlan, you don’t understand. Sister Mariana will come get me to break the fast in a little over a candlemark. Then we’ll go find your friend.” He says as if he were speaking to a daft child who had misplaced a favorite toy.
“Richard, listen to me very carefully. I risked lives to get you out of a mess you created. Choose your allegiance now. I haven’t any more time to waste. I’m going to go find Cara and if you’re not here when I return, I’ll assume you’re my enemy.” The Mother Confessor walks out the door without looking back.
“Kahlan, wait,” he calls out to no avail.
***
The woman locked in the training room is going on about her Han and the high price her captors will pay once she finds a way out of her prison. As best as Cara can make out, she plans on castrating Darken Rahl and feeding him his own testicles. There is also something about cleansing the world of the small-minded vermin that is the human race. If it weren’t for her mind refusing to stop replaying the images of Kahlan and the Seeker, she’d be amused by the madwoman’s tirade. Still, it crosses her mind that she must be significant somehow, for why else would her former Lord keep her alive? Darken Rahl was always a pragmatist when it came to disposing of enemies. This woman, perhaps, will prove to be the opening she needs.
Just as the invective spewing from Rahl’s prisoner’s mouth turns to the topic of the Seeker, Cara hears someone approaching from the other end of the passage. Taking care to not reveal her presence, she listens for a moment, before making her exit.
***
Having no idea where exactly to look, Kahlan wanders down random hallways, stopping dead in her tracks at the sound of a familiar voice. Drawing her weapon, she gingerly opens a door, her jaw dropping at the sight on the other side. The Wizard of the First Order, lying naked on a gigantic round bed, surrounded by a bevy of scantily-dressed women, giggling like a schoolboy, and looking up at her as if she were a ghost. “Kahlan,” he says in as much a statement as a question, attempting to move his bedmates out of the way so that he can rise to his feet. Rendered speechless by the sight of him, Kahlan silently decides the Zorander men are all pigs.
“Kahlan, child, you’re alive,” he says, throwing his arms out to embrace her, but is met with a firm hand to the center of his chest. “We were told you were dead. Only the Spirits know how much Richard and I grieved for you.”
Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Kahlan tilts her head, and says, “Yes, well, apparently you both found comfort. Please dress yourself before I go blind.” The wizard haphazardly puts on his robe, while Kahlan taps her foot, releasing a long-suffering sigh. “The key to the Rada’Han, who has it?”
“Roderick, a Wizard of the Fourth Order but he’s loyal to Rahl.”
“Take me to him now.” The wizard thinks to speak further but given the way Kahlan is glaring at him, he follows her order without saying a word.
“Mistress, how I’ve missed you!” says Roderick, leaving Zedd more than a little confused.
“Thank you, Roderick, now unlock Zedd’s Rada’Han, please,” she says, trying her best to be patient. Zedd takes in a deep breath the moment he’s released from the collar. Rubbing his fingertips together, he grins at the sight of the sparks the motion produces; Kahlan quickly relieves him of both the Rada’Han and the key. “Roderick, stay here and tell no one you’ve seen me. Zedd, let’s go, we have to find Cara.” Zedd has no idea who this Cara is but, quite certain the Mother Confessor isn’t in the mood for idle prattle, he doesn’t ask.
“Spirits, where are you, Cara…?” As if by powerful magic, the moment the words leave her lips, Cara steps out of the passage, inadvertently walking into Kahlan’s arms. Kahlan starts to speak but not finding words to express what she’s feeling, she pulls Cara into a tight embrace. “Zedd, get us out of here. The library, now.” With a wave of his hand, they are there.
“Cara, I,” Kahlan says, still holding the Mord’Sith in her arms but Cara interrupts her before she can finish.
“You owe me no explanations, Mother Confessor,” Cara says, stepping out of Kahlan’s embrace.
“I do,” Kahlan says, “and I owe you an apology as well. But right now we need to focus on our mission.” Not known for being discreet, the wizard takes in their exchange with great interest.
“My mission,” Cara corrects her, stepping around her and heading for the door.
Kahlan throws her arms up in frustration. “This is your grandson’s fault,” she tells the wizard, as she runs after Cara. “Wait, please,” she says, taking hold of Cara’s wrist. “We’ve been through too much together to have it end this way. Please, don’t push me away now.” Still unable to look at her, Cara relents with a curt nod. “Thank the Spirits,” Kahlan says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Cara’s ear. If the Wizard didn’t know better he’d swear he’d just witnessed a lovers’ quarrel.
Kahlan’s attention immediately turns toward Zedd. “I don’t know what has gone on here and I don’t care, but I expect the truth from you. Has Richard aligned himself with his brother?” The question strikes Cara as odd, given the passionate reunion she’d witnessed between the two.
The Wizard considers the question for a long moment, knowing that there is no clear response. “Kahlan, you know the boy as well as I do. He sees only the good in people. After we received news of your death, Richard was despondent, completely devastated. Darken reached out to him. He helped Richard through his grief and swore he’d bring your murderer to justice and he did, or at least that is what we thought.”
Kahlan shakes her head, realizing Richard’s gullibility knows no bounds. “And you and Richard believed him because he’s what, renowned for his good character? It was he who sent Roderick to kill me. It’s only because Cara stopped him that I live to tell you about it.” The wizard, on that occasion -- as well as all others -- having deferred to his grandson’s judgment, has no reply. His gaze, however, falls upon Cara, realizing that there is more to Kahlan’s new friend than meets the eye.
“Richard said he can’t leave his quarters without one of the Sisters of the Dark lifting some sort of spell. Why?”
“A binding spell. All of this,” he says, gesturing with his hands, “is made possible by Richard’s Han. If anything were to happen to him, it would be gone and Rahl would be left with nothing more than a mortal body.”
“You were right,” Kahlan tells Cara, “it is all an illusion.”
“How did your friend stop Roderick?” Zedd asks.
”Zedd,” Kahlan says, every bit a warning. “I will ask the questions, you’ll supply the answers.”
“Who’s the madwoman locked in a training room?” Cara asks, quite casually.
“Madwoman in a training room?” Kahlan asks, furrowing her brow.
Cara nods, pursing her lips. “Yes, a raving lunatic spewing some nonsense about her ‘magnificent Han’ and her plans for Rahl’s testicles.”
“Sister Nicci,” the Mother Confessor and the Wizard say in unison.
“The Sword of Truth, is it in Richard’s possession?” Kahlan asks; already Cara can tell she is formulating a plan.
“Yes, but he hasn’t had a need for it since we’ve been here,” he says, veering his gaze to the sword strapped to Cara’s back. “That’s quite a weapon your friend carries as well.”
When he takes a step toward Cara, Kahlan cuts off his path. “Wizard, both you and your grandson are testing my patience today. Just as I told him, now I’ll tell you, on this day you are either friend or foe. Save me the trouble of having to confess you by deciding right now which it will be.”
Zedd has spent enough time with the Mother Confessor to know that, for as compassionate as she is, toying with her one time too many will lead to dire consequences. Whoever this other woman is, Kahlan is very protective of her; he makes the prudent decision and keeps a respectful distance from her.
“Zedd, get us back to Richard. It’s time we find out where his loyalties lie.” That she would even question such a thing, Zedd finds ridiculous, but keeps the opinion to himself.
In a puff of smoke, they find the Seeker, already dressed, pacing the length of his room. He immediately notices that the Rada’Han that adorned the wizard’s neck for months is gone. His attention then turns to Kahlan’s blonde companion, the one she’d been so eager to find. There’s something about her, something he can’t quite name, that arouses his suspicions. “Kahlan, we need to talk,” he says, leading her toward another room. Without missing a beat, Cara is at her side. “In private,” he adds, with a sneer.
Kahlan takes a step away from the Seeker, which leaves her standing so close to the Mord’Sith that they are breathing the same breath. “It’s all right,” she says, running her arm down the length of the Mord’Sith’s arm. Raising an eyebrow and clasping the hilt of her dagger, Cara backs away, her gaze fixed on Kahlan as she disappears behind a closed door. The wizard thinks to strike up a conversation but before he can utter a single syllable, she shoots him a murderous glance, causing him to reconsider.
***
“That woman, I don’t trust her, Kahlan. Something isn’t quite right about her, I can feel it.”
“At this moment, I trust her far more than I trust you, Richard. Tell me, are you doing your brother’s bidding these days?” It isn’t so much Richard’s loyalty that she’s calling into question, as it is his judgment. Were she to stand there and recount the many times Richard’s faulty logic led them astray, she’d probably confess him out of frustration alone.
Richard takes her hand in his, squeezing it gently before bringing it to his lips. “Kahlan, I love you more than my own life. Losing you broke me. Darken was a brother to me when I was at my lowest. He’s changed so much since freeing himself from the Keeper’s grasp.”
“Apparently not enough to keep him from sending an assassin after me.” Kahlan went on to tell him exactly what happened on the Las Reinas del Mar, including the physical evidence of her demise required by Darken Rahl. It had been the very evidence Darken shared with Richard when he informed him of the Mother Confessor’s death. An innocent man, Richard now realizes, was executed for a crime that never occurred. The weight of that realization is staggering, given that Richard Cypher, now Richard Rahl, is the Seeker of Truth. He admits that, having been blinded by his own grief and rage, it was at his hands that an innocent man died. Richard killed him, with the Sword of Truth no less, to avenge Kahlan’s supposed death
Overcome with shame, he collapses onto his knees, weeping like a small child. Kahlan cradles him in her arms, whispering words of forgiveness and encouragement. “We’ll get through this together,” she tells him, knowing that Richard is a good man, and because he is a good man, the guilt will never leave him. “I love you more than my own life,” he says a second time, and for Kahlan it’s like coming home. They are words she hadn’t heard in months, only now realizing how much she’d longed for them. Richard, the first person to look upon her with love, not fear, still knows how to speak to her heart.
She leans in, kissing him on the lips, and says, “I love you, too.” They walk out hand in hand, neither mentioning what transpired on the other side of the door, but the renewed bond between them is obvious to the Mord’Sith and the Wizard.
“Zedd, if it is Nicci being held in the training room --”
“What?” Richard says, cutting Kahlan off before she can finish. “Nicci is here? Kahlan, if she is, you have to leave now. She’s too dangerous.”
And there it is; Richard’s inability to accept that it is the Mother Confessor who protects the Seeker, that she isn’t the one in need of rescuing, that it wasn’t she who was lured into a trap by a plunging neckline and a conspicuously large posterior. While Kahlan is tempted to react to his remark, she decides to ignore it. “As I was saying,” she says, addressing the Wizard, “if it is Nicci, could Cara hold her off long enough for me to confess her?” Predicting the Seeker’s reaction, she raises her palm without turning toward him and says, “Richard, not a word.” Cara looks over at the sulking Seeker with a smirk on her face.
“If she is what I think she is, the answer is yes, but removing the Rada’Han so that you can confess Nicci will require impeccable timing. Not to mention the key,” he says.
“Roderick, perhaps?” Kahlan asks, looking between Richard and Zedd.
“It could be, he does trust the little weasel more than the Sisters of the Dark,” says the Wizard, eyeing Cara. “But this plan requires unquestionable loyalty from all parties involved.”
“Zedd, don’t,” Kahlan says. Richard thinks to chime in but knows Kahlan well enough to hold his tongue. “Let’s go,” she says to Cara, resting a hand on her shoulder. Cara doesn’t say a word, but her gaze goes to the offending hand -- something that hadn’t happened since their days back in Ushuaia. “You two, don’t do anything to arouse suspicion,” she calls out to the men as she and Cara walk out the door.
Having been ordered by his Mistress to stay put, Kahlan finds Roderick exactly where she left him. She questions him about the woman in the training room, who, he informs her, is a powerful sorceress whose captivity serves a dual purpose: causing her as much misery as possible and providing Darken Rahl with an opportunity to seek out a means of absorbing her Han -- without involving the other witches. Darken Rahl, he tells her, trusts no one. It would stand to reason since he killed his most loyal allies: the Mord’Sith. The location of the key to the Rada’Han, however, remains a mystery for it isn’t in Roderick’s possession. “What now?” Kahlan asks, leaving Cara to ponder the answer for a long moment.
“Everything you’ll need,” Cara mumbles, echoing Berdine’s final words. “Let’s go,” Cara says. When the Wizard tries to follow, she turns toward him and adds, “Not you.”
Kahlan isn’t certain what Cara has in mind, but knowing that she’s already on shaky ground with her, she follows without question. That Cara hasn’t as much as glanced at her is causing her no small amount of distress. It feels as if she were, once again, dealing with the leather-clad stranger who approached her in the tropical forest what seems like a lifetime ago.
Through yet another route, they end up back in the library -- Cara digging through her pack, Kahlan standing behind her debating whether to speak to her or remain silent. While she knows the latter would be the Mord’Sith’s preference, they are still in this together. “What are you looking for?” Kahlan asks, fully anticipating the death glare that follows.
She looks up at the Mother Confessor from her crouched position, and tosses her a parchment -- still not speaking to her. Kahlan reads through it once, and then a second time, unsure whether to interpret its meaning literally or figuratively, “A Spell for Every Occasion,” reads the top of the document. Either way, she decides, it’s worth a try. “Let’s go,” she says, “we’ll need Zedd’s help.”
While they intended a swift return via the same passage that got them to the library, an unexpected run-in with a group of witches spoils their plans. Cara gives Kahlan a hard shove -- harder than necessary -- stepping back enough to deflect the dacra that had been aimed at the Mother Confessor. Ignoring the dull pain in her shoulder, Kahlan looses her daggers, each finding its mark -- two Sisters of the Dark down, three left standing. Choosing to release their dacras in unison proves to be their undoing for Cara quickly deflects them back to their source, each buried in its owner’s own chest.
“Nice work,” Kahlan says as she retrieves her daggers. “That shove, however, will definitely leave a bruise.” Cara ignores the remark, busying herself with stashing the bodies in a stairwell. To say that Kahlan’s frustration at her silence is growing would be understating the matter, but just as frustrating is the guilt she’s feeling. She and Cara are not lovers, yet she feels like an unfaithful husband caught with his hands up the wrong skirt. That she’s even having such a thought at a time like this serves as evidence she’s allowed her feelings for Cara to drift beyond the pale.
Before she has a chance to fully examine her thoughts, she’s back in Richard’s arms, for the moment she walks into the room, he pulls her into an embrace and says, “What took you so long? I’ve been worried sick.” Having too much on her mind already, Kahlan tears away from him, and hands the Wizard the parchment.
“These are ancient spells that require powerful magic,” says the Wizard.
“Will any of them open the witch’s Rada’Han?” Cara asks, her impatience palpable.
“I don’t know yet,” the Wizard snaps back with a scowl.
“Zedd, don’t take that tone with Cara. Please don’t make me have to tell you a second time,” the Mother Confessor says, “it is thanks to her that we have the spells.” That she’s trying to get back in Cara’s good graces is obvious even to the Seeker.
Richard pulls Kahlan aside to inform her that Zedd suspects her new friend is a Mord’Sith. With as much patience as she can gather, she reminds him that it was his poor judgment that created this situation and it is she and Cara who have risked their lives to save his. She goes as far as informing him that if he’d prefer to put his life in his brother’s hands rather than hers, he’s welcome to do so. Knowing this is an argument he will not win, Richard puts his hands up in surrender.
The Wizard clears his throat to get their attention, and when all eyes are on him, says, “This incantation will work, but you’ll have to confess her as soon as I utter the spell or she’ll kill us all. Nicci’s Han is surpassed only by Richard’s.” Kahlan glances over at Cara, who, with a quick nod, assures her it won’t be a problem. Realizing that Kahlan is relying on a suspected Mord’Sith to keep them alive, the two men can only hope that Kahlan’s trust isn’t misplaced. The plan is to confess Nicci -- something Kahlan is looking forward to for reasons of her own -- and then use Nicci’s Han as a means of bringing down Rahl permanently. But first they need to remove the Rada’Han from the witch’s neck.
Once Cara provides a detailed description of where exactly she heard the witch, a wave of the Wizard’s hand leaves them standing in the training room with Nicci looking more wretched than they’d thought possible. “Bad hair day?” Kahlan asks, staring back at the emaciated witch whose hair is matted and clothes are in shreds. Already they can hear the commotion set off by the Seeker leaving his quarters.
“Still bitter about that little maternity spell, are we?” says Nicci with as much arrogance as she had before being captured and collared by Darken Rahl. Her eyes, however, soften at the sight of the Seeker. “Tell me, are you ready to accept my offer? Get this thing off me,” she says, yanking at the Rada’Han, “and the world will be ours.”
“Say the spell, Wizard, we haven’t the time for this,” Cara says, taking a step toward Nicci, only to be left grimacing by the stench of her.
“What’s your plan?” Kahlan asks, pulling her away from the others for the sake of discretion. “Zedd is right, she’ll kill us all in less than a breath once he finishes the spell.”
“All you need to confess her is for her to be alive and the Rada’Han to be off, correct?” Kahlan tips her head in agreement while Zedd and Richard brace themselves for certain death. “Say the spell,” Cara growls and with a nod from Kahlan, the Wizard does as he’s told. Cara and Kahlan stand less than a pace away from her, and the moment the Wizard utters the last of the spell, the Rada’Han releases from the witch’s neck. Before it travels more than a hair’s width, Cara’s fist meets with the witch’s chin, sending her careening into Kahlan’s hand.
With eyes swirling black, Nicci, as so many before her, drops to her knees, begging her Mistress to command her. “Good plan,” Kahlan says, smiling brightly at the Mord’Sith -- none of them had considered taking that practical an approach.
“Definitely Mord’Sith,” the Seeker whispers to his grandfather, and it’s pure mayhem from that point on. Cara leads them out of the passage on the opposite end from Rahl’s private wing, the five of them looking on as hallways flood with Sisters of the Dark and soldiers searching for Richard.
“Stay behind me,” Cara says, speaking to Kahlan for the first time since her reunion with Richard.
“I will,” Kahlan assures her, loosing a sigh of relief at receiving confirmation that the Mord’Sith still cares.
“Go tell Darken Rahl that Sister Nicci has escaped,” Sister Mariana orders one of the D’Haran soldiers. By the look on his face, it would seem the army hadn’t been informed of Nicci’s presence.
The Mother Confessor and the others stay out of sight, waiting for the right moment to make their move. It is Cara who catches a glimpse of a panic-stricken Rahl being ushered away by several dozen Sisters of the Dark. “Stop him,” Kahlan orders the newly confessed Nicci, who happily sets about her task with as much zeal as she had when she intended to wipe out humanity and replace it with her and Richard’s spawn. The hissing of dacras flying through the air fills the Palace, as do the stomping feet of soldiers fleeing in droves. Nicci, however, is relentless in following her Mistress’s order. “I’m glad she’s on our side,” says Kahlan, as they rush through the path Nicci’s Han has opened for them.
While to the others victory seems imminent, Cara turns toward them with an outstretched arm, causing them to come to a halt. It is she, after all, who knows the Palace as well as Darken does. “That entrance, it leads to the hall of mirrors,” she says, “if Rahl crossed the threshold into the glass room, the witch will not be able to enter.”
As Cara predicted, Nicci returns, having left in her wake countless dead bodies scattered about, and says, “Mistress, I failed you. There is a room even my Han cannot penetrate. Darken is already inside.”
Nicci continues to do away with anyone who dares to even glance at Kahlan and her companions, while all eyes turn to Cara for an explanation. “It’s as ancient as the Sisters of the Agiel,” she says, “a barrier sealed in Mord’Sith blood, magically spelled to keep the Lord Rahl from harm if the Palace were ever under siege.”
“The Sword of Truth,” Richard says, “it can cut through anything.” Cara knows it's a waste of time but remains silent.
“It’s worth a try,” Kahlan says. They make their way through an intricate maze of narrow, mirrored halls, which ends before a luxurious room with glass walls. The Seeker draws the Sword of Truth and strikes with all his might over and over, as Darken Rahl, reclined on a bed, wearing his favored garish red robe, looks on in amusement. Until, that is, the Mother Confessor of the Midlands and the Mord’Sith Cara Mason step out from behind the Seeker and the confessed witch -- their images, his worst nightmare, reflected back at him in the mirrored walls to infinity.
***
Not once had Cara contemplated a different outcome. She’d said as much to the Mother Confessor but now that the time has arrived, the reality of it is too much for her. “Cara, no. I’m not letting you go in there alone,” Kahlan says, already Cara and the others can see she’s on the verge of tears. “We agreed that we were in this together. There has to be another way.”
For over a half a candlemark, she has the Seeker and the witch try to break through the invisible barrier but it isn’t possible. They all know it. Still, Kahlan refuses to face the truth. The Mord’Sith leans against the mirrored wall, patiently waiting for Kahlan to accept that they’ve run out of options. When the Seeker, too exhausted to wield the Sword of Truth, collapses to the ground gasping for air, Cara decides to put an end to the madness.
“Kahlan, we need to talk.” Cara places a firm hand on the small of Kahlan’s back, just as she has so many times before, and leads her away from the others. “There is no other way. The spell is over a thousand years old and not once has it failed.” Kahlan’s arms are wrapped around her own middle, her eyes never leaving the Mord’Sith leaning on the wall across from her. “Only Mord’Sith can get through. I am the last one. It is up to me to make things right.”
“He’ll kill you,” Kahlan says in a small voice that feels like a knife through Cara’s heart. “He has Richard’s Han, and he’ll use it to kill you.” No longer able to hold Cara’s gaze, she looks down at her own boots for a long moment. “But,” she says, tilting her head as if she’d suddenly come upon an ideal solution, “we could have Zedd cast a spell. We leave him in there, to live out his days locked up like the beast that he is.”
“No, we can’t,” Cara says.
“Why? Because you made a promise? Berdine would not want you dead, Cara, and neither do I.”
“He holds the bond. What’s to stop him from coercing someone into taking a D’Haran girl and torturing her until she breaks?” Cara shuts her eyes to push back the flood of memories of her own breaking. “No, that can’t happen, Kahlan. I won’t allow it to happen.”
Kahlan’s hand goes to Cara’s cheek, staying there for a long moment. “You’re much nobler than I am.”
It is the Seeker who puts an end to their exchange. “Kahlan?”
She turns toward the Seeker for a moment, and says, “Richard, Cara and I have not finished.” Only to find, when she turns to face the Mord’Sith again, she is gone.
As Kahlan is about to set off after her, Richard takes hold of her wrist. “What’s going on?” he asks. She tears away from his grip but it’s too late. With the dagger Kahlan gifted her, Cara has already sliced the palm of her hand and pressed it against the invisible barrier, leaving an ominous bloody palm-print behind.
“Don’t die,” Kahlan says in a whisper that will remain unheard for already Cara has crossed the threshold into Rahl’s sanctuary. Kahlan and the others can see the two of them circling each other -- Rahl with that smug smile on his face -- but they can’t hear what they are saying. “Don’t die,” Kahlan implores a second time, her hands on either side of the doorless doorway.
***
“Lord Rahl,” Cara says, tipping her head with a smirk on her face. It was always going to come down to this, the two of them locked in a room in a fight to the death. Who will be left standing when it’s over, a mystery that will reveal itself in due time. Cara has no plan to speak of, only to attempt to comply with Kahlan’s request. ‘Don’t die’, she’d asked of Cara repeatedly. That request alone will serve as her compass.
“Cara, my dear, so lovely to see you. I should have known my most talented Mord’Sith would manage to survive that unfortunate ordeal at the Palace. You always were resourceful -- not unlike vermin.” The moment he stops talking Cara lunges at him but with a wave of his hand, he flings her across the room, her head smashing into the wall. Kahlan can’t bear to watch this, to watch Cara crumple to the ground like a rag doll, but turning away isn’t an option. Even separated by this magical barrier, they are still in this together.
“Do you really think you’re a match for me?” he says. Cara rises to her feet, her nose bloodied, and goes at him a second time, managing to nick him with her dagger as he, again, flings her across the room without so much as touching her. “Was that really necessary?” he asks, healing the wound by merely looking at it. “You do know I’m going to kill you for it.” He says it in a low sultry tone that turns Cara’s stomach. It occurs to her that sparing anyone from ever being addressed in that tone again is reason enough to kill him, or even die trying.
Without a trace of hesitation, she’s on her feet, only this time, when he waves his hand, Cara squares her shoulders, and raises her own hand, holding Rahl’s magic at bay with all of her might, and using her other hand to release her dagger, delivering it to the center of his chest. Having been caught off guard, with eyes widening, and gasping for air, it takes Rahl a moment to react. Pulling the dagger out of his chest, he heals his own wound, and tosses the weapon aside. But that momentary lapse provides Cara with enough of an opening to charge toward him -- this time seizing him by the throat and squeezing with every bit of strength in her. If ever she’s wished for Confessor magic, it is at this moment.
“She’s brave, I’ll give her that much,” the Seeker says, with Kahlan clinging to his arm.
“She’s that and so much more,” Kahlan murmurs, her tone pure anguish.
Rahl wasn’t expecting such boldness from his former Mord’Sith. He reacts with a strong show of force that Cara can only hold off for a moment. Slamming her against the glass wall with bone-crushing force, he keeps her there, suspended in midair. “I’m disappointed in you, Cara. I would have thought you’d stand by your sisters in death as you did in life. Are you Kahlan Amnell’s pet these days?” When Kahlan’s name leaves his lips, Cara shuts her eyes and their entire journey together flashes before her, culminating with their dance at the castle -- the sound of Kahlan’s laughter echoing in her head, and the blue of her eyes, a sea of possibilities. Even if this is the one fight she cannot win, the ride with Kahlan was worth the fall. Cara doesn’t reply to her former Lord, instead she relaxes into her current predicament, allowing Rahl to hold her in place with no resistance.
“I’m tempted to kill you, but I’m having too much fun.” With that, he releases his magical hold on her and watches as she falls at his feet. “I always did like you on your knees,” he says. That choice of words, however, proves to be a grave error in judgment for Cara Mason has never taken kindly to taunting. With nothing to lose, her hands go to his ankles, sweeping his feet out from under him. Before he has a chance to react, Cara pins down his arms with her knees and takes to pounding her fists into his face. It isn’t long before he’s a bloody mess, spitting out his own teeth.
The Seeker raises his eyebrows, not for a moment had he imagined this turn of events. “How?” he asked, shaking his head in amazement.
“Cara is always willing to try,” Kahlan says under her breath.
“You. Can’t. Win,” Rahl says, and with a minuscule flick of his wrist, he sends the Mord’Sith flying across the room.
“Perhaps, but I’m having fun trying,” Cara says, her chest heaving from exertion.
Rahl extends his arm and clenches his fist, causing Cara’s hands to go to her throat in an attempt to tear away the magical chokehold that is stealing her ability to breathe. “Yes, well, I’m afraid the fun is over,” he says, clenching his fist even tighter.
“He’s killing her,” Kahlan says, tears already streaking her cheeks.
Cara tries to break his hold but it isn’t possible. Rahl’s magic is too strong. She can feel it, the life force leaving her body -- her only thought that she’s failed both Berdine and Kahlan. With her last breath, she turns her head just enough to look upon Kahlan one last time.
That’s when it happens, a second bloody handprint appears on the magical barrier, only this one is smaller, much smaller. It’s accompanied by a whoosh of wind that carries with it a cloud of what appears to be ashes. From those ashes a child, beautiful and magnificent, manifests at the Mord’Sith’s side. “It isn’t over,” says the child, looking up at Cara, before raising her palm and turning toward Rahl. It’s as if she casts a shadow over time, a wing-shaped shimmering shadow, that makes it all stop for a moment, and suddenly Cara can breathe again.
Kahlan gazes at the child in awe. “‘She will someday rise from ashes like a phoenix, and right the wrong that was done to her,’” Kahlan says, echoing the words the Mayor of Avenio used when he told them the story. “It’s her.”
“The girl has the magic against the magic,” the Wizard says, having trouble believing his own eyes.
“You are the Champion,” the child says, and Cara instinctively reaches for the sword she’d forgotten was strapped to her back.
With a single stride she is within striking distance of her former Lord, whose magic is still being held back by the child. Looking into his panic-stricken eyes, Cara grips the weapon with both of her hands and swings, feeling the blade crush muscles and tendons and bones, causing his head to fly off his shoulders, while his body is left twitching on the ground.
“I was the first and you are the last. It was my gift that he used to make you what you are and for that I am sorry. For over a thousand years I’ve waited for you and now we are both free,” the child says to Cara. “You are a born flier, Cara Mason.” With that, she disappears before Cara’s eyes. The magical child of Avenio, her savior.
Author: ortunata13
Pairing: ara/Kahlan
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Word Count: 7789
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Most certainly, I do not own these characters.
Summary: After months of travel, Cara and Kahlan are ready to face Darken Rahl and rescue the Seeker of Truth. Brace yourselves, things are about to get messy!
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 part 1 | 6 part 2 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
Chapter 12
To The Death
Their approach is as slow as it is methodical. Cara’s eyes flickering from one place to another, catching even the slightest motion, while Kahlan’s gaze is fixed on the structure that is their final destination, which seems to her as if it is rushing toward them. When they are just outside the gates, Cara determines that even the positioning of the guards is identical to what it had been in D’Hara; only here they are lesser in numbers which stands to reason given the smaller building. Gaining access will not be a problem as Cara knows exactly where the ideal opening lies --she’d taken advantage of it many times as a young Mord’Sith out for a tryst. Cara signals to Kahlan, and she follows -- not a role that comes easily to the Mother Confessor but Cara’s plan is a sensible one, and there is ample trust between them.
Thus, without consequence they find themselves behind the north tower, standing before the stairway that ends at the library. Cara takes the lead with Kahlan, daggers drawn, so close behind her that Cara can feel her breath on the back of her neck. Upon opening the door, they find the room empty just as Cara had thought it. Save for Cara’s occasional visits, no one other than Berdine and Raina frequented the room -- Berdine did not take kindly to interruptions. Cara’s brow furrows, struggling to keep at bay the flood of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. It isn’t easy, standing outside the door of a room that is an exact replica of the one in which she’d last seen her closest friend.
When they cross the threshold they both feel it, the unmistakable prickle of magic all around them. Having a deeply rooted disdain for that unpredictable force, Cara instinctively draws her weapon. She’d only ever felt such a force in the Garden of Life which was completely sustained by magic.
Mouth agape, she looks around the room and says, “None of this is real. It’s all a parlor trick.”
“Are you sure?” Kahlan asks.
“I am,” she says. “I don’t know how he’s doing it, but none of this is real.”
“The most powerful wizard in all of the land,” Kahlan mumbles, more to herself than to Cara. “It’s Richard’s Han, Cara, that’s how he’s doing it.”
It makes sense that Richard Rahl, the product of two magically gifted bloodlines, would have enough power to sustain an illusion of this magnitude, but it must come at a high price. If they are correct, Darken Rahl only has a fraction of the Seeker’s Han at his disposal and is relying on the witches for protection. But in the end, all of this speculation is irrelevant. Their mission has not changed: free the Seeker and kill Darken Rahl. “Let’s go,” Cara says, already her eyes are dancing with excitement at the prospect of a good fight.
“Wait,” Kahlan says, “we have to think. Where would Rahl keep Richard? A dungeon maybe?”
Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Cara does her best to measure her words but subtlety isn’t something for which she has much of an affinity. “Master Richard, in a dungeon? I don’t think so.”
While she doesn’t admit it, Kahlan suspects Cara’s right. The Wizard of the Fourth Order gave no indication that Richard was experiencing any sort of hardship. “Where then?”
“Friends close, enemies closer. Your precious Seeker is in Darken Rahl’s private wing.” With that, they walk out of the library, heading for the other end of the palace. She’s never met the Seeker but that he’s a Rahl alone makes Cara despise him. Add to that his designs on the Mother Confessor and it’s safe to say she has only slightly less disdain for him than she does for Darken Rahl himself. It is as she’s entertaining various murderous thoughts that half a dozen D’Haran soldiers turn down the corridor, finding themselves face to face with intruders. Before they can draw their weapons, Cara backhands one of them with enough force to knock him unconscious, while another one feels the blade of her dagger pressed to his throat. “Is this your chosen day to die, D’Harans? If it isn’t, get on your knees.”
D’Haran soldiers not being known for their good judgment, they refuse Cara’s counsel and draw their swords instead. It isn’t long before Cara and Kahlan are standing before a bloody pile of bodies, and in the company of a most solicitous lieutenant. “Try to conserve your magic,” Cara chastises her for being too quick to reach for his throat.
Kahlan rolls her eyes. “I’m a Confessor, it’s what I do. Besides, he’ll come in handy.” She has him move the bodies out of sight and clean up the blood. “Tell no one we are here,” she commands him. “And allow no one into the library.”
In an effort to avoid any further confrontations, Cara opts for accessing Rahl’s private wing via what used to be the Mord’Sith’s quarters. Because it was their purpose to protect their Lord, direct access in case of an attack was made possible by a series of concealed passages to which even D’Haran soldiers weren’t privy. That he turned on those who were most loyal to him only fuels Cara’s need to make him pay for his crimes.
“Stay behind me,” Cara says when they exit a passage that leaves them standing in a section of the palace with which she’s all too familiar. Her admonishment is a timely one for already they can hear the Sisters of the Dark chanting in the main hall.
“Yes, Master Richard,” says a woman as she steps out of a room that back in D’Hara served as a guest room for foreign dignitaries and lovers with which Rahl was particularly taken. Cara and Kahlan stay out of sight, but as soon as the woman turns the corner, Kahlan steps around Cara and rushes into the room where Richard stands shirtless in a pair of red silk trousers. “Richard,” she says, running into his arms.
Richard’s eyes fill with tears the moment her sees her. “I thought you were dead,” he says, cupping her cheeks and pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss -- the Mother Confessor clinging to him as if her very life depended on it. Cara watches the scene from the doorway and waits, but apparently the Seeker’s arms around her suffice to make the Mother Confessor forget the whole of the world as she wipes the tears from his eyes as well as her own, before nuzzling herself into the crook of his neck. Cara stands there for what seems like an eternity listening to their loving exchanges, then takes a step back and closes the door behind her.
***
The Mother Confessor in the Seeker’s arm is, perhaps, the way it should be. It isn’t something she can think on now, not when she’s dealing with this stinging sensation in her eyes and this thing in her chest that makes it hard to breathe and that inexplicable wrenching pain in her stomach that feels as if she’d been stomped on by that huge Cyclops she killed a few days ago. She tells herself the proximity to the bond is causing these peculiar symptoms but she knows it’s a lie. Right now she needs to put all of that out of her mind and focus on finding her former Lord -- for Kahlan’s sake as well as her own. That the thought of dying isn’t at all unpleasant at this moment can’t deter her from keeping her promise to Berdine, and making certain Kahlan remains unharmed.
She knows Darken Rahl well, and while he’s aligned himself with the witches, Cara is certain he’s found a way to safeguard himself from their imminent betrayal. It is in the very nature of those who have power to always seek more of it, her former Lord would often say. Her task, therefore, is to find that safeguard and use it in her favor.
***
“Zedd, is he…?” Kahlan trails off, once she and Richard break from their kiss.
“No,” Richard assures her, “he’s fine. Not happy about the Rada’Han around his neck but he’s still the same old Zedd.”
“Thank the Spirits,” she says, noticing for the first time that Richard is quite comfortable in his lavish surroundings. “Richard, what are you wearing?” It strikes her that he seems more like a willing houseguest than a hostage.
“Oh, just my sleeping clothes. It’s still very early,” he says. Having traveled with him for two years, Kahlan is certain she’d recall if ever before she’d seen him take rest wearing red silk trousers. That he hasn’t once mentioned escape convinces her that something is wrong, very wrong.
“Master Richard, are you ready for me?” asks a barely dressed, buxom blonde who lets herself in without bothering to knock. Kahlan steps behind the door so as not to be seen, but sees enough of the blonde to recognize her as the very woman who lured Richard into the trap that started this mess. That his face has taken on the color of his trousers makes her purpose crystal clear.
“No,” Richard says, ushering her out the door by the forearm. Stammering a bit, he turns toward the Mother Confessor and says, “Kahlan, it isn’t what you think. I. You. I. I thought you were dead. You can’t know what, what that did to me.”
Kahlan tips her head, watching him shift from side to side. “Mm, apparently you found…ample comfort.”
***
If only that image in her head, the one where Kahlan is kissing the Seeker and wiping away his tears, would go away, she’d be able to think clearly. Having no other choice, she steps back into the passage she and Kahlan used earlier. Leaning against the wall, she covers her face with her hands, willing the image to go away, only it doesn’t, not really, not until she reaches for that part of herself that is still Mord’Sith. Shutting out this weakness that seeped in during her travels with the Mother Confessor, she gathers herself enough to step back out, but a faint sound draws her attention enough to make her walk deeper into the passage instead. The farther she walks, the louder it gets until she finally discerns the rantings of a madwoman locked in what used to be a Mord’Sith training room.
***
“Kahlan, it isn’t like that. You have to believe me.” He paces in front of her trying to find the right words but clearly there aren’t any.
“You seem quite comfortable here,” she says, with her arms crossed in front of her. “Is it that you and your brother are of one mind these days? Because Cara and I didn’t risk our -- Cara,” she says, realizing after far too long that the Mord’Sith isn’t by her side. “Cara,” she says again, this time her hands going to the sides of her head. “Let’s go, we have to find Cara,” she says, already heading for the door.
“It isn’t that simple,” he says, stepping in front of her, “if I leave this room without one of the Sisters of the Dark lifting the binding spell, every soldier in the palace will rush in to protect me.”
“Mm, yes, to protect you.” Kahlan says with no small amount of derision.
“Kahlan, you don’t understand. Sister Mariana will come get me to break the fast in a little over a candlemark. Then we’ll go find your friend.” He says as if he were speaking to a daft child who had misplaced a favorite toy.
“Richard, listen to me very carefully. I risked lives to get you out of a mess you created. Choose your allegiance now. I haven’t any more time to waste. I’m going to go find Cara and if you’re not here when I return, I’ll assume you’re my enemy.” The Mother Confessor walks out the door without looking back.
“Kahlan, wait,” he calls out to no avail.
***
The woman locked in the training room is going on about her Han and the high price her captors will pay once she finds a way out of her prison. As best as Cara can make out, she plans on castrating Darken Rahl and feeding him his own testicles. There is also something about cleansing the world of the small-minded vermin that is the human race. If it weren’t for her mind refusing to stop replaying the images of Kahlan and the Seeker, she’d be amused by the madwoman’s tirade. Still, it crosses her mind that she must be significant somehow, for why else would her former Lord keep her alive? Darken Rahl was always a pragmatist when it came to disposing of enemies. This woman, perhaps, will prove to be the opening she needs.
Just as the invective spewing from Rahl’s prisoner’s mouth turns to the topic of the Seeker, Cara hears someone approaching from the other end of the passage. Taking care to not reveal her presence, she listens for a moment, before making her exit.
***
Having no idea where exactly to look, Kahlan wanders down random hallways, stopping dead in her tracks at the sound of a familiar voice. Drawing her weapon, she gingerly opens a door, her jaw dropping at the sight on the other side. The Wizard of the First Order, lying naked on a gigantic round bed, surrounded by a bevy of scantily-dressed women, giggling like a schoolboy, and looking up at her as if she were a ghost. “Kahlan,” he says in as much a statement as a question, attempting to move his bedmates out of the way so that he can rise to his feet. Rendered speechless by the sight of him, Kahlan silently decides the Zorander men are all pigs.
“Kahlan, child, you’re alive,” he says, throwing his arms out to embrace her, but is met with a firm hand to the center of his chest. “We were told you were dead. Only the Spirits know how much Richard and I grieved for you.”
Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Kahlan tilts her head, and says, “Yes, well, apparently you both found comfort. Please dress yourself before I go blind.” The wizard haphazardly puts on his robe, while Kahlan taps her foot, releasing a long-suffering sigh. “The key to the Rada’Han, who has it?”
“Roderick, a Wizard of the Fourth Order but he’s loyal to Rahl.”
“Take me to him now.” The wizard thinks to speak further but given the way Kahlan is glaring at him, he follows her order without saying a word.
“Mistress, how I’ve missed you!” says Roderick, leaving Zedd more than a little confused.
“Thank you, Roderick, now unlock Zedd’s Rada’Han, please,” she says, trying her best to be patient. Zedd takes in a deep breath the moment he’s released from the collar. Rubbing his fingertips together, he grins at the sight of the sparks the motion produces; Kahlan quickly relieves him of both the Rada’Han and the key. “Roderick, stay here and tell no one you’ve seen me. Zedd, let’s go, we have to find Cara.” Zedd has no idea who this Cara is but, quite certain the Mother Confessor isn’t in the mood for idle prattle, he doesn’t ask.
“Spirits, where are you, Cara…?” As if by powerful magic, the moment the words leave her lips, Cara steps out of the passage, inadvertently walking into Kahlan’s arms. Kahlan starts to speak but not finding words to express what she’s feeling, she pulls Cara into a tight embrace. “Zedd, get us out of here. The library, now.” With a wave of his hand, they are there.
“Cara, I,” Kahlan says, still holding the Mord’Sith in her arms but Cara interrupts her before she can finish.
“You owe me no explanations, Mother Confessor,” Cara says, stepping out of Kahlan’s embrace.
“I do,” Kahlan says, “and I owe you an apology as well. But right now we need to focus on our mission.” Not known for being discreet, the wizard takes in their exchange with great interest.
“My mission,” Cara corrects her, stepping around her and heading for the door.
Kahlan throws her arms up in frustration. “This is your grandson’s fault,” she tells the wizard, as she runs after Cara. “Wait, please,” she says, taking hold of Cara’s wrist. “We’ve been through too much together to have it end this way. Please, don’t push me away now.” Still unable to look at her, Cara relents with a curt nod. “Thank the Spirits,” Kahlan says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Cara’s ear. If the Wizard didn’t know better he’d swear he’d just witnessed a lovers’ quarrel.
Kahlan’s attention immediately turns toward Zedd. “I don’t know what has gone on here and I don’t care, but I expect the truth from you. Has Richard aligned himself with his brother?” The question strikes Cara as odd, given the passionate reunion she’d witnessed between the two.
The Wizard considers the question for a long moment, knowing that there is no clear response. “Kahlan, you know the boy as well as I do. He sees only the good in people. After we received news of your death, Richard was despondent, completely devastated. Darken reached out to him. He helped Richard through his grief and swore he’d bring your murderer to justice and he did, or at least that is what we thought.”
Kahlan shakes her head, realizing Richard’s gullibility knows no bounds. “And you and Richard believed him because he’s what, renowned for his good character? It was he who sent Roderick to kill me. It’s only because Cara stopped him that I live to tell you about it.” The wizard, on that occasion -- as well as all others -- having deferred to his grandson’s judgment, has no reply. His gaze, however, falls upon Cara, realizing that there is more to Kahlan’s new friend than meets the eye.
“Richard said he can’t leave his quarters without one of the Sisters of the Dark lifting some sort of spell. Why?”
“A binding spell. All of this,” he says, gesturing with his hands, “is made possible by Richard’s Han. If anything were to happen to him, it would be gone and Rahl would be left with nothing more than a mortal body.”
“You were right,” Kahlan tells Cara, “it is all an illusion.”
“How did your friend stop Roderick?” Zedd asks.
”Zedd,” Kahlan says, every bit a warning. “I will ask the questions, you’ll supply the answers.”
“Who’s the madwoman locked in a training room?” Cara asks, quite casually.
“Madwoman in a training room?” Kahlan asks, furrowing her brow.
Cara nods, pursing her lips. “Yes, a raving lunatic spewing some nonsense about her ‘magnificent Han’ and her plans for Rahl’s testicles.”
“Sister Nicci,” the Mother Confessor and the Wizard say in unison.
“The Sword of Truth, is it in Richard’s possession?” Kahlan asks; already Cara can tell she is formulating a plan.
“Yes, but he hasn’t had a need for it since we’ve been here,” he says, veering his gaze to the sword strapped to Cara’s back. “That’s quite a weapon your friend carries as well.”
When he takes a step toward Cara, Kahlan cuts off his path. “Wizard, both you and your grandson are testing my patience today. Just as I told him, now I’ll tell you, on this day you are either friend or foe. Save me the trouble of having to confess you by deciding right now which it will be.”
Zedd has spent enough time with the Mother Confessor to know that, for as compassionate as she is, toying with her one time too many will lead to dire consequences. Whoever this other woman is, Kahlan is very protective of her; he makes the prudent decision and keeps a respectful distance from her.
“Zedd, get us back to Richard. It’s time we find out where his loyalties lie.” That she would even question such a thing, Zedd finds ridiculous, but keeps the opinion to himself.
In a puff of smoke, they find the Seeker, already dressed, pacing the length of his room. He immediately notices that the Rada’Han that adorned the wizard’s neck for months is gone. His attention then turns to Kahlan’s blonde companion, the one she’d been so eager to find. There’s something about her, something he can’t quite name, that arouses his suspicions. “Kahlan, we need to talk,” he says, leading her toward another room. Without missing a beat, Cara is at her side. “In private,” he adds, with a sneer.
Kahlan takes a step away from the Seeker, which leaves her standing so close to the Mord’Sith that they are breathing the same breath. “It’s all right,” she says, running her arm down the length of the Mord’Sith’s arm. Raising an eyebrow and clasping the hilt of her dagger, Cara backs away, her gaze fixed on Kahlan as she disappears behind a closed door. The wizard thinks to strike up a conversation but before he can utter a single syllable, she shoots him a murderous glance, causing him to reconsider.
***
“That woman, I don’t trust her, Kahlan. Something isn’t quite right about her, I can feel it.”
“At this moment, I trust her far more than I trust you, Richard. Tell me, are you doing your brother’s bidding these days?” It isn’t so much Richard’s loyalty that she’s calling into question, as it is his judgment. Were she to stand there and recount the many times Richard’s faulty logic led them astray, she’d probably confess him out of frustration alone.
Richard takes her hand in his, squeezing it gently before bringing it to his lips. “Kahlan, I love you more than my own life. Losing you broke me. Darken was a brother to me when I was at my lowest. He’s changed so much since freeing himself from the Keeper’s grasp.”
“Apparently not enough to keep him from sending an assassin after me.” Kahlan went on to tell him exactly what happened on the Las Reinas del Mar, including the physical evidence of her demise required by Darken Rahl. It had been the very evidence Darken shared with Richard when he informed him of the Mother Confessor’s death. An innocent man, Richard now realizes, was executed for a crime that never occurred. The weight of that realization is staggering, given that Richard Cypher, now Richard Rahl, is the Seeker of Truth. He admits that, having been blinded by his own grief and rage, it was at his hands that an innocent man died. Richard killed him, with the Sword of Truth no less, to avenge Kahlan’s supposed death
Overcome with shame, he collapses onto his knees, weeping like a small child. Kahlan cradles him in her arms, whispering words of forgiveness and encouragement. “We’ll get through this together,” she tells him, knowing that Richard is a good man, and because he is a good man, the guilt will never leave him. “I love you more than my own life,” he says a second time, and for Kahlan it’s like coming home. They are words she hadn’t heard in months, only now realizing how much she’d longed for them. Richard, the first person to look upon her with love, not fear, still knows how to speak to her heart.
She leans in, kissing him on the lips, and says, “I love you, too.” They walk out hand in hand, neither mentioning what transpired on the other side of the door, but the renewed bond between them is obvious to the Mord’Sith and the Wizard.
“Zedd, if it is Nicci being held in the training room --”
“What?” Richard says, cutting Kahlan off before she can finish. “Nicci is here? Kahlan, if she is, you have to leave now. She’s too dangerous.”
And there it is; Richard’s inability to accept that it is the Mother Confessor who protects the Seeker, that she isn’t the one in need of rescuing, that it wasn’t she who was lured into a trap by a plunging neckline and a conspicuously large posterior. While Kahlan is tempted to react to his remark, she decides to ignore it. “As I was saying,” she says, addressing the Wizard, “if it is Nicci, could Cara hold her off long enough for me to confess her?” Predicting the Seeker’s reaction, she raises her palm without turning toward him and says, “Richard, not a word.” Cara looks over at the sulking Seeker with a smirk on her face.
“If she is what I think she is, the answer is yes, but removing the Rada’Han so that you can confess Nicci will require impeccable timing. Not to mention the key,” he says.
“Roderick, perhaps?” Kahlan asks, looking between Richard and Zedd.
“It could be, he does trust the little weasel more than the Sisters of the Dark,” says the Wizard, eyeing Cara. “But this plan requires unquestionable loyalty from all parties involved.”
“Zedd, don’t,” Kahlan says. Richard thinks to chime in but knows Kahlan well enough to hold his tongue. “Let’s go,” she says to Cara, resting a hand on her shoulder. Cara doesn’t say a word, but her gaze goes to the offending hand -- something that hadn’t happened since their days back in Ushuaia. “You two, don’t do anything to arouse suspicion,” she calls out to the men as she and Cara walk out the door.
Having been ordered by his Mistress to stay put, Kahlan finds Roderick exactly where she left him. She questions him about the woman in the training room, who, he informs her, is a powerful sorceress whose captivity serves a dual purpose: causing her as much misery as possible and providing Darken Rahl with an opportunity to seek out a means of absorbing her Han -- without involving the other witches. Darken Rahl, he tells her, trusts no one. It would stand to reason since he killed his most loyal allies: the Mord’Sith. The location of the key to the Rada’Han, however, remains a mystery for it isn’t in Roderick’s possession. “What now?” Kahlan asks, leaving Cara to ponder the answer for a long moment.
“Everything you’ll need,” Cara mumbles, echoing Berdine’s final words. “Let’s go,” Cara says. When the Wizard tries to follow, she turns toward him and adds, “Not you.”
Kahlan isn’t certain what Cara has in mind, but knowing that she’s already on shaky ground with her, she follows without question. That Cara hasn’t as much as glanced at her is causing her no small amount of distress. It feels as if she were, once again, dealing with the leather-clad stranger who approached her in the tropical forest what seems like a lifetime ago.
Through yet another route, they end up back in the library -- Cara digging through her pack, Kahlan standing behind her debating whether to speak to her or remain silent. While she knows the latter would be the Mord’Sith’s preference, they are still in this together. “What are you looking for?” Kahlan asks, fully anticipating the death glare that follows.
She looks up at the Mother Confessor from her crouched position, and tosses her a parchment -- still not speaking to her. Kahlan reads through it once, and then a second time, unsure whether to interpret its meaning literally or figuratively, “A Spell for Every Occasion,” reads the top of the document. Either way, she decides, it’s worth a try. “Let’s go,” she says, “we’ll need Zedd’s help.”
While they intended a swift return via the same passage that got them to the library, an unexpected run-in with a group of witches spoils their plans. Cara gives Kahlan a hard shove -- harder than necessary -- stepping back enough to deflect the dacra that had been aimed at the Mother Confessor. Ignoring the dull pain in her shoulder, Kahlan looses her daggers, each finding its mark -- two Sisters of the Dark down, three left standing. Choosing to release their dacras in unison proves to be their undoing for Cara quickly deflects them back to their source, each buried in its owner’s own chest.
“Nice work,” Kahlan says as she retrieves her daggers. “That shove, however, will definitely leave a bruise.” Cara ignores the remark, busying herself with stashing the bodies in a stairwell. To say that Kahlan’s frustration at her silence is growing would be understating the matter, but just as frustrating is the guilt she’s feeling. She and Cara are not lovers, yet she feels like an unfaithful husband caught with his hands up the wrong skirt. That she’s even having such a thought at a time like this serves as evidence she’s allowed her feelings for Cara to drift beyond the pale.
Before she has a chance to fully examine her thoughts, she’s back in Richard’s arms, for the moment she walks into the room, he pulls her into an embrace and says, “What took you so long? I’ve been worried sick.” Having too much on her mind already, Kahlan tears away from him, and hands the Wizard the parchment.
“These are ancient spells that require powerful magic,” says the Wizard.
“Will any of them open the witch’s Rada’Han?” Cara asks, her impatience palpable.
“I don’t know yet,” the Wizard snaps back with a scowl.
“Zedd, don’t take that tone with Cara. Please don’t make me have to tell you a second time,” the Mother Confessor says, “it is thanks to her that we have the spells.” That she’s trying to get back in Cara’s good graces is obvious even to the Seeker.
Richard pulls Kahlan aside to inform her that Zedd suspects her new friend is a Mord’Sith. With as much patience as she can gather, she reminds him that it was his poor judgment that created this situation and it is she and Cara who have risked their lives to save his. She goes as far as informing him that if he’d prefer to put his life in his brother’s hands rather than hers, he’s welcome to do so. Knowing this is an argument he will not win, Richard puts his hands up in surrender.
The Wizard clears his throat to get their attention, and when all eyes are on him, says, “This incantation will work, but you’ll have to confess her as soon as I utter the spell or she’ll kill us all. Nicci’s Han is surpassed only by Richard’s.” Kahlan glances over at Cara, who, with a quick nod, assures her it won’t be a problem. Realizing that Kahlan is relying on a suspected Mord’Sith to keep them alive, the two men can only hope that Kahlan’s trust isn’t misplaced. The plan is to confess Nicci -- something Kahlan is looking forward to for reasons of her own -- and then use Nicci’s Han as a means of bringing down Rahl permanently. But first they need to remove the Rada’Han from the witch’s neck.
Once Cara provides a detailed description of where exactly she heard the witch, a wave of the Wizard’s hand leaves them standing in the training room with Nicci looking more wretched than they’d thought possible. “Bad hair day?” Kahlan asks, staring back at the emaciated witch whose hair is matted and clothes are in shreds. Already they can hear the commotion set off by the Seeker leaving his quarters.
“Still bitter about that little maternity spell, are we?” says Nicci with as much arrogance as she had before being captured and collared by Darken Rahl. Her eyes, however, soften at the sight of the Seeker. “Tell me, are you ready to accept my offer? Get this thing off me,” she says, yanking at the Rada’Han, “and the world will be ours.”
“Say the spell, Wizard, we haven’t the time for this,” Cara says, taking a step toward Nicci, only to be left grimacing by the stench of her.
“What’s your plan?” Kahlan asks, pulling her away from the others for the sake of discretion. “Zedd is right, she’ll kill us all in less than a breath once he finishes the spell.”
“All you need to confess her is for her to be alive and the Rada’Han to be off, correct?” Kahlan tips her head in agreement while Zedd and Richard brace themselves for certain death. “Say the spell,” Cara growls and with a nod from Kahlan, the Wizard does as he’s told. Cara and Kahlan stand less than a pace away from her, and the moment the Wizard utters the last of the spell, the Rada’Han releases from the witch’s neck. Before it travels more than a hair’s width, Cara’s fist meets with the witch’s chin, sending her careening into Kahlan’s hand.
With eyes swirling black, Nicci, as so many before her, drops to her knees, begging her Mistress to command her. “Good plan,” Kahlan says, smiling brightly at the Mord’Sith -- none of them had considered taking that practical an approach.
“Definitely Mord’Sith,” the Seeker whispers to his grandfather, and it’s pure mayhem from that point on. Cara leads them out of the passage on the opposite end from Rahl’s private wing, the five of them looking on as hallways flood with Sisters of the Dark and soldiers searching for Richard.
“Stay behind me,” Cara says, speaking to Kahlan for the first time since her reunion with Richard.
“I will,” Kahlan assures her, loosing a sigh of relief at receiving confirmation that the Mord’Sith still cares.
“Go tell Darken Rahl that Sister Nicci has escaped,” Sister Mariana orders one of the D’Haran soldiers. By the look on his face, it would seem the army hadn’t been informed of Nicci’s presence.
The Mother Confessor and the others stay out of sight, waiting for the right moment to make their move. It is Cara who catches a glimpse of a panic-stricken Rahl being ushered away by several dozen Sisters of the Dark. “Stop him,” Kahlan orders the newly confessed Nicci, who happily sets about her task with as much zeal as she had when she intended to wipe out humanity and replace it with her and Richard’s spawn. The hissing of dacras flying through the air fills the Palace, as do the stomping feet of soldiers fleeing in droves. Nicci, however, is relentless in following her Mistress’s order. “I’m glad she’s on our side,” says Kahlan, as they rush through the path Nicci’s Han has opened for them.
While to the others victory seems imminent, Cara turns toward them with an outstretched arm, causing them to come to a halt. It is she, after all, who knows the Palace as well as Darken does. “That entrance, it leads to the hall of mirrors,” she says, “if Rahl crossed the threshold into the glass room, the witch will not be able to enter.”
As Cara predicted, Nicci returns, having left in her wake countless dead bodies scattered about, and says, “Mistress, I failed you. There is a room even my Han cannot penetrate. Darken is already inside.”
Nicci continues to do away with anyone who dares to even glance at Kahlan and her companions, while all eyes turn to Cara for an explanation. “It’s as ancient as the Sisters of the Agiel,” she says, “a barrier sealed in Mord’Sith blood, magically spelled to keep the Lord Rahl from harm if the Palace were ever under siege.”
“The Sword of Truth,” Richard says, “it can cut through anything.” Cara knows it's a waste of time but remains silent.
“It’s worth a try,” Kahlan says. They make their way through an intricate maze of narrow, mirrored halls, which ends before a luxurious room with glass walls. The Seeker draws the Sword of Truth and strikes with all his might over and over, as Darken Rahl, reclined on a bed, wearing his favored garish red robe, looks on in amusement. Until, that is, the Mother Confessor of the Midlands and the Mord’Sith Cara Mason step out from behind the Seeker and the confessed witch -- their images, his worst nightmare, reflected back at him in the mirrored walls to infinity.
***
Not once had Cara contemplated a different outcome. She’d said as much to the Mother Confessor but now that the time has arrived, the reality of it is too much for her. “Cara, no. I’m not letting you go in there alone,” Kahlan says, already Cara and the others can see she’s on the verge of tears. “We agreed that we were in this together. There has to be another way.”
For over a half a candlemark, she has the Seeker and the witch try to break through the invisible barrier but it isn’t possible. They all know it. Still, Kahlan refuses to face the truth. The Mord’Sith leans against the mirrored wall, patiently waiting for Kahlan to accept that they’ve run out of options. When the Seeker, too exhausted to wield the Sword of Truth, collapses to the ground gasping for air, Cara decides to put an end to the madness.
“Kahlan, we need to talk.” Cara places a firm hand on the small of Kahlan’s back, just as she has so many times before, and leads her away from the others. “There is no other way. The spell is over a thousand years old and not once has it failed.” Kahlan’s arms are wrapped around her own middle, her eyes never leaving the Mord’Sith leaning on the wall across from her. “Only Mord’Sith can get through. I am the last one. It is up to me to make things right.”
“He’ll kill you,” Kahlan says in a small voice that feels like a knife through Cara’s heart. “He has Richard’s Han, and he’ll use it to kill you.” No longer able to hold Cara’s gaze, she looks down at her own boots for a long moment. “But,” she says, tilting her head as if she’d suddenly come upon an ideal solution, “we could have Zedd cast a spell. We leave him in there, to live out his days locked up like the beast that he is.”
“No, we can’t,” Cara says.
“Why? Because you made a promise? Berdine would not want you dead, Cara, and neither do I.”
“He holds the bond. What’s to stop him from coercing someone into taking a D’Haran girl and torturing her until she breaks?” Cara shuts her eyes to push back the flood of memories of her own breaking. “No, that can’t happen, Kahlan. I won’t allow it to happen.”
Kahlan’s hand goes to Cara’s cheek, staying there for a long moment. “You’re much nobler than I am.”
It is the Seeker who puts an end to their exchange. “Kahlan?”
She turns toward the Seeker for a moment, and says, “Richard, Cara and I have not finished.” Only to find, when she turns to face the Mord’Sith again, she is gone.
As Kahlan is about to set off after her, Richard takes hold of her wrist. “What’s going on?” he asks. She tears away from his grip but it’s too late. With the dagger Kahlan gifted her, Cara has already sliced the palm of her hand and pressed it against the invisible barrier, leaving an ominous bloody palm-print behind.
“Don’t die,” Kahlan says in a whisper that will remain unheard for already Cara has crossed the threshold into Rahl’s sanctuary. Kahlan and the others can see the two of them circling each other -- Rahl with that smug smile on his face -- but they can’t hear what they are saying. “Don’t die,” Kahlan implores a second time, her hands on either side of the doorless doorway.
***
“Lord Rahl,” Cara says, tipping her head with a smirk on her face. It was always going to come down to this, the two of them locked in a room in a fight to the death. Who will be left standing when it’s over, a mystery that will reveal itself in due time. Cara has no plan to speak of, only to attempt to comply with Kahlan’s request. ‘Don’t die’, she’d asked of Cara repeatedly. That request alone will serve as her compass.
“Cara, my dear, so lovely to see you. I should have known my most talented Mord’Sith would manage to survive that unfortunate ordeal at the Palace. You always were resourceful -- not unlike vermin.” The moment he stops talking Cara lunges at him but with a wave of his hand, he flings her across the room, her head smashing into the wall. Kahlan can’t bear to watch this, to watch Cara crumple to the ground like a rag doll, but turning away isn’t an option. Even separated by this magical barrier, they are still in this together.
“Do you really think you’re a match for me?” he says. Cara rises to her feet, her nose bloodied, and goes at him a second time, managing to nick him with her dagger as he, again, flings her across the room without so much as touching her. “Was that really necessary?” he asks, healing the wound by merely looking at it. “You do know I’m going to kill you for it.” He says it in a low sultry tone that turns Cara’s stomach. It occurs to her that sparing anyone from ever being addressed in that tone again is reason enough to kill him, or even die trying.
Without a trace of hesitation, she’s on her feet, only this time, when he waves his hand, Cara squares her shoulders, and raises her own hand, holding Rahl’s magic at bay with all of her might, and using her other hand to release her dagger, delivering it to the center of his chest. Having been caught off guard, with eyes widening, and gasping for air, it takes Rahl a moment to react. Pulling the dagger out of his chest, he heals his own wound, and tosses the weapon aside. But that momentary lapse provides Cara with enough of an opening to charge toward him -- this time seizing him by the throat and squeezing with every bit of strength in her. If ever she’s wished for Confessor magic, it is at this moment.
“She’s brave, I’ll give her that much,” the Seeker says, with Kahlan clinging to his arm.
“She’s that and so much more,” Kahlan murmurs, her tone pure anguish.
Rahl wasn’t expecting such boldness from his former Mord’Sith. He reacts with a strong show of force that Cara can only hold off for a moment. Slamming her against the glass wall with bone-crushing force, he keeps her there, suspended in midair. “I’m disappointed in you, Cara. I would have thought you’d stand by your sisters in death as you did in life. Are you Kahlan Amnell’s pet these days?” When Kahlan’s name leaves his lips, Cara shuts her eyes and their entire journey together flashes before her, culminating with their dance at the castle -- the sound of Kahlan’s laughter echoing in her head, and the blue of her eyes, a sea of possibilities. Even if this is the one fight she cannot win, the ride with Kahlan was worth the fall. Cara doesn’t reply to her former Lord, instead she relaxes into her current predicament, allowing Rahl to hold her in place with no resistance.
“I’m tempted to kill you, but I’m having too much fun.” With that, he releases his magical hold on her and watches as she falls at his feet. “I always did like you on your knees,” he says. That choice of words, however, proves to be a grave error in judgment for Cara Mason has never taken kindly to taunting. With nothing to lose, her hands go to his ankles, sweeping his feet out from under him. Before he has a chance to react, Cara pins down his arms with her knees and takes to pounding her fists into his face. It isn’t long before he’s a bloody mess, spitting out his own teeth.
The Seeker raises his eyebrows, not for a moment had he imagined this turn of events. “How?” he asked, shaking his head in amazement.
“Cara is always willing to try,” Kahlan says under her breath.
“You. Can’t. Win,” Rahl says, and with a minuscule flick of his wrist, he sends the Mord’Sith flying across the room.
“Perhaps, but I’m having fun trying,” Cara says, her chest heaving from exertion.
Rahl extends his arm and clenches his fist, causing Cara’s hands to go to her throat in an attempt to tear away the magical chokehold that is stealing her ability to breathe. “Yes, well, I’m afraid the fun is over,” he says, clenching his fist even tighter.
“He’s killing her,” Kahlan says, tears already streaking her cheeks.
Cara tries to break his hold but it isn’t possible. Rahl’s magic is too strong. She can feel it, the life force leaving her body -- her only thought that she’s failed both Berdine and Kahlan. With her last breath, she turns her head just enough to look upon Kahlan one last time.
That’s when it happens, a second bloody handprint appears on the magical barrier, only this one is smaller, much smaller. It’s accompanied by a whoosh of wind that carries with it a cloud of what appears to be ashes. From those ashes a child, beautiful and magnificent, manifests at the Mord’Sith’s side. “It isn’t over,” says the child, looking up at Cara, before raising her palm and turning toward Rahl. It’s as if she casts a shadow over time, a wing-shaped shimmering shadow, that makes it all stop for a moment, and suddenly Cara can breathe again.
Kahlan gazes at the child in awe. “‘She will someday rise from ashes like a phoenix, and right the wrong that was done to her,’” Kahlan says, echoing the words the Mayor of Avenio used when he told them the story. “It’s her.”
“The girl has the magic against the magic,” the Wizard says, having trouble believing his own eyes.
“You are the Champion,” the child says, and Cara instinctively reaches for the sword she’d forgotten was strapped to her back.
With a single stride she is within striking distance of her former Lord, whose magic is still being held back by the child. Looking into his panic-stricken eyes, Cara grips the weapon with both of her hands and swings, feeling the blade crush muscles and tendons and bones, causing his head to fly off his shoulders, while his body is left twitching on the ground.
“I was the first and you are the last. It was my gift that he used to make you what you are and for that I am sorry. For over a thousand years I’ve waited for you and now we are both free,” the child says to Cara. “You are a born flier, Cara Mason.” With that, she disappears before Cara’s eyes. The magical child of Avenio, her savior.