Chainfire (Sword of Truth – 9)

CHAPTER 1

«How much of this blood is his?» a woman asked.

«Most of it, I'm afraid,» a second woman said as they both rushed along beside him.

As Richard fought to focus his mind on his need to remain conscious, the breathless voices sounded to him as if they were coming from some great dim distance. He wasn't sure who they were. He knew that he knew them, but right then it just didn't seem to matter.

The crushing pain in the left side of his chest and his need for air had him at the ragged edge of panic. It was all he could do to try to draw each crucial breath.

Even so, he had a bigger worry.

Richard struggled to put voice to his burning concern, but he couldn't form the words, couldn't get out any more than a gasping moan. He clutched the arm of the woman beside him, desperate to get them to stop, to get them to listen. She misunderstood and instead urged the men carrying him to hurry, even though they were already panting with the effort of bearing him over the rocky ground in the deep shade among the towering pines. They tried to be as gentle as possible, but they never dared to slow.

Not far off, a rooster crowed into the still air, as if this were an ordinary morning like any other.

Richard observed the storm of activity swirling around him with an odd sense of detachment. Only the pain seemed real. He remembered hearing it once said that when you died, no matter how many people were there with you, you died all alone. That's how he felt now-alone.

As they broke from the timber into a thinly wooded, rough field of clumped grass, Richard saw above the leafy limbs a leaden sky threatening to unleash torrents of rain. Rain was the last thing he needed. If only it would hold off.

As they raced along, the unpainted wooden walls of a small building came into view, followed by a twisting livestock fence weathered to a silver gray. Startled chickens squawked in fright as they scattered out of the way. Men shouted orders. Richard hardly noticed the ashen faces watching him being carried past as he stiffened himself against the dizzying pain of the rough journey. It felt as if he were being ripped apart.

The whole mob around him funneled through a narrow doorway and shuffled into the darkness beyond.

«Here,» the first woman said. Richard was surprised to realize, then, that it was Nicci's voice. «Put him here, on the table. Hurry.»

Richard heard tin cups clatter as someone swept them aside. Small items thunked to the ground and bounced across a dirt floor. The shutters banged back as they were flung open to let some of the flat light into the musty room.

It appeared to be a deserted farmhouse. The walls tilted at an odd angle as if the place were having difficulty standing, as if it might collapse at any moment. Without the people who had once made it home, given it life, it had the aura of a place waiting for death to settle in.

Men holding his legs and arms lifted him and then carefully set him down on the crudely hewn plank table. Richard wanted to hold his breath against the crushing agony radiating from the left side of his chest, but he desperately needed the breath that he couldn't seem to get.

He needed the breath in order to speak.

Lightning flashed. A moment later thunder rumbled heavily.

«Lucky we made it into shelter before the rain,» one of the men said.

Nicci nodded absently as she leaned close, groping purposefully across Richard's chest. He cried out, arching his back against the heavy wooden tabletop, trying to twist away from her probing fingers. The other woman immediately pressed his shoulders down to keep him in place.

He tried to speak. He almost got the words out, but then he coughed up a mouthful of thick blood. He started choking as he tried to breathe.

The woman holding his shoulders turned his head aside. «Spit,» she told him as she bent close.

The feeling of not being able to get any air brought a flash of hot fear. Richard did as she said. She swept her fingers through his mouth, working to clear an airway. With her help he finally managed to cough and spit out enough blood to be able to pull in some of the air he so desperately needed.

As Nicci's fingers probed the area around the arrow jutting from the left side of his chest, she cursed under her breath.

«Dear spirits,» she murmured in soft prayer as she tore open his blood-soaked shirt, «let me be in time.»

«I was afraid to pull out the arrow,» the other woman said. «I didn't know what would happen-didn't know if I should-so I decided I'd better leave it and hope I could find you.»

«Be thankful you didn't try,» Nicci said, her hand slipping under Richard's back as he writhed in pain. «If you'd pulled it out he'd be dead by now.»

«But you can heal him.» It sounded more a plea than a question.

Nicci didn't answer.

«You can heal him.» That time the words hissed out through gritted teeth.

At the tone of command born of frayed patience, Richard realized that it was Cara. He hadn't had time to tell her before the attack. Surely she would have to know. But if she knew, then why didn't she say? Why didn't she put him at ease?

«If it hadn't been for him, we'd have been taken by surprise,» said a man standing off to the side. «He saved us all when he waylaid those soldiers sneaking up on us.»

«You have to help him,» another man insisted.

Nicci impatiently waved her arm. «All of you, get out. This place is small enough as it is. I can't afford the distraction right now. I need some quiet.»

Lightning flashed again, as if the good spirits intended to deny her what she needed. Thunder boomed with a deep, resonant threat of the storm closing around them.

«You'll send Cara out when you know something?» one of the men asked.

«Yes, yes. Go.»

«And make sure there aren't any more soldiers around to surprise us,» Cara added. «Keep out of sight in case there are. We can't afford to be discovered here-not right now.»

Men swore to do her bidding. Hazy light spilled across a dingy plastered wall when the door opened. As the men departed, their shadows ghosted through the patch of light, like the good spirits themselves abandoning him.

On his way by, one of the men briefly touched Richard's shoulder-an offer of comfort and courage. Richard vaguely recognized the face. He hadn't seen these men for quite a while. The thought occurred to him that this was no way to have a reunion. The light vanished as the men pulled the door closed behind themselves, leaving the room in the gloom of light coming from the single window.

«Nicci,» Cara pressed in a low voice, «you can heal him?»

Richard had been on his way to meet up with Nicci when troops sent to put down the uprising against the brutal rule of the Imperial Order had accidentally come upon his secluded camp. His first thought, just before the soldiers had blundered upon him, had been that he had to find Nicci. A spark of hope flared down into the darkness of his frantic worry; Nicci could help him.

Now Richard needed to get her to listen.

As she leaned close, her hand sliding around under him, apparently trying to see how close the arrow came to penetrating all the way through his back, Richard managed to clutch her black dress at the shoulder. He saw that his hand glistened with blood. He felt more running back across his face when he coughed.

Her blue eyes turned to him. «Everything will be all right, Richard. Lie still.» A skein of blond hair slipped forward over her other shoulder as he tried to pull her closer. «I'm here. Calm down. I won't leave you. Lie still. It's all right. I'm going to help you.»

Despite how smoothly she covered it, panic lurked in her voice. Despite her reassuring smile, her eyes glistened with tears. He knew then that his wound might very well be beyond her ability to heal.

That only made it all the more important that he get her to listen.

Richard opened his mouth, trying to speak. He couldn't seem to get enough air. He shivered with cold, each breath a struggle that produced little more than a wet rattle. He couldn't die, not here, not now. Tears stung his eyes.

Nicci gently pressed him back down.

«Lord Rahl,» Cara said, «lie still. Please.» She took his hand from its hold on Nicci's dress and held it against herself in a tight grip. «Nicci will take care of you. You'll be fine. Just lie still and let her do what she needs to do to heal you.»

Where Nicci's blond hair was loose and flowing, Cara's was woven into a single braid. Despite how concerned he knew her to be, Richard could see in Cara's posture only her powerful presence, and in her features and her iron blue eyes her strength of will. Right then, that strength, that self-assurance, was solid ground for him in the quicksand of terror.

«The arrow doesn't go all the way through,» Nicci told Cara as she pulled her hand out from under his back.

«I told you so. He managed to at least deflect it with his sword. That's good, isn't it? It's better that it didn't pierce his back as well, isn't it?»

«No,» Nicci said under her breath.

«No?» Cara leaned closer to Nicci. «But how can it be worse that it didn't rip through his back as well?»

Nicci glanced up at Cara. «It's a crossbow bolt. If it were sticking out his back, or close enough to need only to be pushed just a little more, we could break off the barbed head and pull the shaft back out.»

She left unsaid what they would now have to do.

«His bleeding isn't as bad,» Cara offered. «We've stopped that, at least.»

«Maybe on the outside,» Nicci said in a confidential tone. «But he is bleeding into his chest-blood is filling his left lung.»

This time it was Cara who snatched a fistful of Nicci's dress. «But you're going to do something. You're going to.»

«Of course,» Nicci growled as she pulled her shoulder free of Cara's grip.

Richard gasped in pain. The rising waters of panic threatened to overwhelm him.

Nicci laid her other hand on his chest to hold him still as well as to offer comfort.

«Cara,» Nicci said, «why don't you wait outside with the others.»

«That isn't going to happen. You'd best just get on with it.»

Nicci appraised Cara's eyes briefly, then leaned in and again grasped the shaft jutting from Richard's chest. He felt the probing tingle of magic follow the course of the arrow down deep inside him. Richard recognized the unique feel of Nicci's power, much as he could recognize her singular silken voice.

He knew that there was no time to delay in what he had to do. Once she started, there was no telling how long it would be until he woke — if he woke.

With all his effort, Richard lunged, seizing her dress at the collar. He pulled himself close to her face, pulled her down toward him so she could hear him.

He had to ask if they knew where Kahlan was. If they didn't, then he had to ask Nicci to help him find her.

The only thing he could get out was the single word.

«Kahlan,» he whispered with all his strength.

«All right, Richard. All right.» Nicci gripped his wrists and pulled his hands off her dress. «Listen to me.» She pressed him back down against the table. «Listen. There's no time. You have to calm down. Be still. Just relax and let me do the work.»

She brushed back his hair and laid a gentle, caring hand to his forehead as her other hand again grasped the cursed arrow.

Richard desperately struggled to say no, struggled to tell them that they needed to find Kahlan, but already the tingle of magic was intensifying into paralyzing pain.

Richard went rigid with the agony of the power lancing into his chest.

He could see Nicci and Cara's faces above him.

And then a deadly darkness ignited within the room.

He had been healed by Nicci before. Richard knew the feel of her power. This time, something was different. Dangerously different.

Cara gasped. «What are you doing!»

«What I must if I'm to save him. It's the only way.»

«But you can't.»

«If you'd rather I let him slip into the arms of death, then say so. Otherwise, let me do as I must to keep him among us.»

Cara studied Nicci's heated expression for only a moment before letting out a noisy breath and nodding.

Richard reached for Nicci's wrist, but Cara caught his first and pressed it back to the table. His fingers came to rest on the woven gold wire spelling out the word truth on the hilt of his sword. He spoke Kahlan's name again, but this time no sound would cross his lips.

Cara frowned as she leaned toward Nicci. «Did you hear what it was he said?»

«I don't know. Some name. Kahlan, I think.»

Richard tried to cry «Yes,» but it came out as little more than a hoarse moan.

«Kahlan?» Cara asked. «Who's Kahlan?»

«I have no idea,» Nicci murmured as her concentration returned to the task at hand. «He's obviously in delirium from loss of blood.»

Richard truly couldn't draw a breath against the pain that suddenly screamed through him.

Lightning flashed and thunder pealed again, this time unleashing a torrent of rain that began to drum against the roof.

Against his will, hazy darkness drew in around the faces.

Richard managed only to whisper Kahlan's name one last time before Nicci opened into him the full flood of magic.

The world dissolved into nothingness.

CHAPTER 2

The distant howl of a wolf woke Richard from a dead sleep. The forlorn cry echoed through the mountains, but went unanswered. Richard lay on his side, in the surreal light of false dawn, idly listening, waiting, for a return cry that never came.

Try as he might, he couldn't seem to open his eyes for longer than the span of a single, slow heartbeat, much less gather the energy to lift his head. Shadowy tree limbs appeared to move about in the murky darkness. It was odd that such an ordinary sound as the distant howl of a wolf should wake him.

He remembered that Cara had third watch. She would no doubt come to wake them soon enough. With great effort, he summoned the strength to roll over. He needed to touch Kahlan, to embrace her, to go back to sleep with her in his protective arms for a few more delicious minutes. His hand found only an expanse of empty ground.

Kahlan wasn't there.

Where was she? Where had she gone off to? Perhaps she'd awakened early and gone to talk to Cara.

Richard sat up. He instinctively checked to make sure that his sword was at hand. The reassuring feel of the polished scabbard and wire-wound hilt greeted his fingers. The sword lay on the ground beside him.

Richard heard the soft whisper of a slow, steady rain. He remembered that for some reason he needed it not to rain.

But if it was raining, then why didn't he feel it? Why was his face dry? Why was the ground dry?

He sat up rubbing his eyes, trying to get his bearings, trying to clear his foggy mind as he fought to herd together scattered thoughts. He peered into the darkness and realized that he wasn't outside. In the faint gray light of dawn coming in through a single small window he saw that he was in a derelict room. The place smelled of wet wood and damp decay. Dying embers glowed deep within the ash in a hearth set into a plastered wall rising up before him. A blackened wooden spoon hung to one side of the hearth, a mostly bald broom leaned against the other side, but other than that he saw no personal items to distinguish the people who lived there.

Daybreak looked to be still some time off. The incessant patter of the rain against the roof promised that there would be no sun this chilly and damp day. Besides dripping through several holes in the tattered roof, rain leaked in around the chimney, adding yet another layer of stain to the dingy plaster.

Seeing the plastered wall, the hearth, and the heavy plank table brought back spectral fragments of memories.

Driven by his need to know where Kahlan was, Richard staggered to his feet, clutching at the lingering pain in the left side of his chest with one hand and the edge of the table with his other.

At hearing him stand in the dimly lit room, Cara, leaning back in a chair not far away, shot to her feet. «Lord Rahl!»

He saw his sword lying on the table. But he had thought-

«Lord Rahl, you're awake!» In the somber light Richard could see that Cara looked exuberant. He also saw that she was wearing her red leather.

«A wolf howled and woke me.»

Cara shook her head. «I've been sitting right there, awake, watching over you. No wolf howled. You must have dreamed it.» Her smile returned. «You look better!»

He recalled not being able to breathe, not being able to get enough air. He took an experimental deep breath and found that it came easily. While the ghost of terrible pain still haunted him, the reality of it had nearly faded away.

«Yes, I think I'm all right.»

Short, disjointed memories flashed in fits before his mind's eye. He remembered standing alone and still in the eerie early light as the dark tide of Imperial Order soldiers flooded through the trees. He remembered bits of their wild charge, their raised weapons. He remembered releasing himself into the fluid dance with death. He remembered, too, the hail of arrows and bolts from crossbows, and, finally, other men joining the battle.

Richard lifted the front of his shirt out away from himself, looking down at it, not understanding why it was whole.

«Your shirt was ruined,» Cara offered, noticing his puzzlement. «We washed and shaved you, then we put a clean shirt on you.»

We. That one word rose up above all others in his mind. We. Cara and Kahlan. That had to be what Cara meant.

«Where is she?»

«Who?»

«Kahlan,» he said as he took a stride away from the support of the table. «Where is she?»

«Kahlan?» Cara's features meandered into a provocative smile. «Who's Kahlan?»

Richard sighed with relief. Cara would not be needling him in such a way if Kahlan were hurt or in any kind of trouble-that much he knew for certain. An overwhelming sense of relief purged his dread and with it some of his weariness. Kahlan was safe.

He couldn't help being cheered, too, by Cara's impish expression. He loved to see her with a lighthearted smile, in part because it was such a rare sight. Usually when a Mord-Sith smiled it was a menacing prelude to something wholly unpleasant. The same was true when they wore their red leather.

«Kahlan,» Richard said, playing along, «you know, my wife. Where is she?»

Cara's nose wrinkled with seldom-seen feminine mirth. Such an extraordinary look was so uncommon on Cara that it not only surprised him, but spurred him into a grin.

«A wife,» she drawled, turning coy. «Now, there's a novel concept-the Lord Rahl taking a wife.»

That he found himself to be the Lord Rahl, the leader of D'Hara, at times still seemed unreal to him. It was not the kind of thing a woods guide growing up in far-off Westland would ever have dreamed up in his wildest imaginings.

«Yes, well, one of us had to be the first.» He wiped a hand across his face, still trying to clear the web of sleep from his mind. «Where is she?»

Cara's smile widened. «Kahlan.» She tilted her head toward him, arching one brow. «Your wife.»

«Yes, Kahlan, my wife,» Richard said offhandedly. He had long ago learned that it was best not to give Cara the satisfaction of seeing her mischievous antics get to him. «You remember her-intelligent, green eves, tall, long hair, and of course the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on.»

The leather of Cara's outfit creaked as she straightened her back and folded her arms. «You mean the most beautiful besides me, of course.» Her eyes were luminous when she smiled. He didn't rise to the bait.

«Well,» Cara finally said with a sigh, «the Lord Rahl certainly seems to have had an interesting dream during his long sleep.»

«Long sleep?»

«You've been asleep for two days-after Nicci healed you.»

Richard raked his fingers back through his dirty, matted hair. «Two days.» he said as he tried to reconcile his fragmented memories. He was becoming annoyed with Cara's game. «So where is she?»

«Your wife?»

«Yes, my wife.» Richard planted his fists on his hips as he leaned toward the irksome woman. «You know, the Mother Confessor.»

«Mother Confessor! My, my, Lord Rahl, but when you dream you certainly do dream big. Smart, beautiful, and the Mother Confessor as well.» Cara leaned in with a taunting look. «And no doubt she's also madly in love with you?»

«Cara.»

«Oh, wait.» She held up a hand to stop him as she abruptly turned serious. «Nicci said that she wanted me to go get her if you woke. She was really insistent about it-said that if you woke she needed to have a look at you.» Cara started toward the single closed door at the back of the room. «She's only been asleep for a couple of hours, but she'll want to know that you're awake.»

Cara was in the back room for no more than a moment when Nicci burst out of the darkness, pausing briefly to grasp the doorframe. «Richard!»

Before Richard could say anything, Nicci, her eyes wide with relief at seeing him alive, dashed to him and seized his shoulders as if she thought he were a good spirit come to the world of the living and only her firm grip would keep him there.

«I was so worried. How are you feeling?»

She looked as drained as he felt. Her mane of blond hair hadn't been brushed out and it looked like she'd been sleeping in her black dress. Even so, the contrast of her disheveled appearance only served to highlight her exquisite beauty.

«Well, all right for the most part, except that I feel exhausted and lightheaded despite having had what Cara tells me was quite a long sleep.»

Nicci dismissively waved a slender hand. «That's to be expected. With rest you will have your full strength back soon enough. You lost a lot of blood. It will take time for your body to recover.»

«Nicci, I need.»

«Hush,» she said as she put one hand behind his back and pressed the flat of her other to his chest. Her smooth brow drew together in concentration.

Though she appeared to be about his age, or at most only a year or two older, she had lived a very long time as a Sister of the Light at the Palace of the Prophets, where those within the walls aged differently. Nicci's graceful manner, the keen appraisal of her blue eyes, and her singular subdued smile-always delivered with her knowing gaze locked on his-had been at first distracting and then unsettling, but was now merely familiar.

Richard winced as he felt Nicci's power tingling deep into his chest, between her hands. It was a disconcerting penetration. It made his heart flutter. A mild wave of nausea coursed through him.

«It's holding,» Nicci murmured to herself. She looked up into his eyes then. «The vessels are whole and strong.» The look of wonder in her eyes betrayed how uncertain she had been of success. Some of her reassuring smile returned. «You still need to rest, but you're doing well, Richard, you really are.»

He nodded, relieved to hear that he was healthy, even if she sounded a little surprised by it. But his other concerns needed to be put to rest, as well.

«Nicci, where's Kahlan? Cara's in one of her moods this morning and won't say.»

Nicci looked to be at a loss. «Who?»

Richard took hold of her wrist and removed her hand from his chest. «What's wrong? Is she hurt? Where is she?»

Cara tilted her head toward Nicci. «While he slept, Lord Rahl dreamed himself up a wife.»

Nicci turned an astonished frown on Cara. «A wife!»

«Remember the name he called out when he was delirious?» Cara flashed a conspiratorial smile. «That's the one he married in his dream. She's beautiful-and smart, of course.»

«Beautiful.» Nicci blinked at the woman. «And smart.»

Cara cocked an eyebrow. «And she's the Mother Confessor.»

Nicci looked incredulous. «The Mother Confessor.»

«Enough,» Richard said as he released Nicci's wrist. «I mean it, now. Where is she?»

It was immediately apparent to both women that his indulgent sense of humor had evaporated. The intensity in his voice, to say nothing of his glare, gave them pause.

«Richard,» Nicci said in a cautious tone, «you were hurt pretty bad. For a time I didn't think.» She hooked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and started over. «Look, when a person is hurt as seriously as you were, it can play tricks with their mind. It's only natural. I've seen it before. When you were shot with that arrow you couldn't breathe. Not getting air, like when you're drowning, causes.»

«What's the matter with you two? What's going on?» Richard couldn't understand why they were stalling. His heart felt as if it were galloping out of control. «Is she hurt? Tell me!»

«Richard,» Nicci said in a calm voice obviously meant to settle him down, «the bolt from that crossbow came perilously close to going right through your heart. If it had, there wouldn't have been anything I could have done. I can't raise the dead.

«Even though it missed your heart, the arrow still did serious damage. People just don't survive a wound as grave as you had. I wouldn't have been able to heal you in the conventional manner because it couldn't be done. There was no time to even try to get the arrow out in any other way. You were bleeding inside. I had to.»

She faltered as she stared up into his eyes. Richard bent down a little toward her. «You had to what?»

Nicci shrugged one shoulder self-consciously. «I had to use Subtractive Magic.»

Nicci was a powerful sorceress in her own right, but she was infinitely more exceptional in that she was able to wield underworld forces as well. She had once been committed to those forces. She had once been known as Death's Mistress. Healing was not exactly her specialty.

Richard's caution flared. «Why?»

«To get the arrow out of you.»

«You eliminated the arrow with Subtractive Magic?»

«There was no time and no other way.» She again clasped his shoulders, although more compassionately this time. «If I hadn't done something you would have been dead in mere moments. I had to.»

Richard glanced to Cara's grim expression and then back to Nicci. «Well, I guess that makes sense.»

At least, it sounded like it made sense. He didn't really know if it did or not. Having been raised in the vast woods of Westland, Richard didn't know a great deal about magic.

«And some of your blood,» Nicci added in a low voice.

He didn't like the sound of that. «What?»

«You were bleeding into your chest. One lung had already failed. I was able to perceive that your heart was being forced out of place. The major arteries were in danger of being ripped apart from the pressure. I needed the blood out of the way in order to heal you-so that your lungs and heart could work properly. They were failing. You were in a state of shock and delirium. You were near death.»

Nicci's blue eyes brimmed with tears. «I was so afraid, Richard. There was no one but me to help you and I was so afraid that I would fail. Even after I did everything I could to heal you, I still wasn't sure you would ever wake again.»

Richard could see the toll of that fear in her expression and feel it in the way her fingers trembled on his arms. It spoke to how far she had come since she had given up her belief in the cause of the Sisters of the Dark and then the Imperial Order.

The haunted look on Cara's face confirmed for him the truth of how desperate the situation had been. For all the sleep he'd apparently gotten, neither of them appeared to have had much more than brief naps. It must have been a frightening vigil.

The rain drummed without letup against the roof. Other than that, the dank husk of a house was dead quiet. Life seemed all the more fleeting in the abandoned home. The forsaken place gave Richard the chills.

«You saved my life, Nicci. I remember being afraid I was going to die. But you saved my life.» He touched his fingertips to her cheek. «Thank you. I wish there was a better way to say it, a better way to tell you how much I appreciate what you did, but I can't think of any.»

Nicci's small smile and simple nod told him that she grasped the depth of his sincerity.

Another thought struck him. «Do you mean to say that using Subtractive Magic caused some kind of — problem?»

«No, no, Richard.» Nicci squeezed his arms as if to allay his fears. «No, I don't think that it caused any harm.»

«What do you mean, you don't think it did?»

She hesitated a moment before explaining. «I've never done anything like that before. I've never even heard of it being done. Dear spirits, I didn't even know that it could be done. As I'm sure you can imagine, using Subtractive Magic in such a way is risky, to put it mildly. Anything living touched by it would also be destroyed. I had to use the core of the arrow itself as a pathway into you. I was as careful as I could possibly be that I only eliminated the arrow — and the spent blood.»

Richard wondered what happened to things when Subtractive Magic was used-what would have happened to his blood-but his head was already spinning with the story and he most wanted her to get to the point.

«But between all that,» Nicci added, «between the massive loss of blood, the injury, the dire condition of not being able to get enough air, the stress you underwent while I used regular Additive Magic to heal you-to say nothing of the unknown element that Subtractive Magic added into the mix-you were going through an experience that can only be described as unpredictable. Such a terrible crisis can cause unexpected things to happen.»