A/N: Here is my first attempt at a Legend of the Seeker story, set just after the events of 'Perdition'. I do not own the rights to the stories, characters or anything else related to them or the television series. This is written for enjoyment and not profit. Please read and review.
Rain poured down from the skies in great sheets, yet the figure remained still. Droplets of water splattered and soaked into the dark green cloak that had hooded his face from the elements, keeping from the fury of the skies. His twilight blue eyes remained fixed and unmoving. In the distance, through the clearing of the trees he could see smoke. Smoke meant a fire had been lit, and in turn meant that the party had set up camp for the night.
A party of two men and two women. A Seeker, a Wizard of the First Order, a Mord'Sith and the Mother Confessor. Four beings of unimaginable power, four mortals on a quest to save the world from falling into the depths of the Underworld and the ultimate hands of the Keeper. Their journey was a brave one, and most of the common peoples expected them to die. He had a little more faith. After all, the Seeker and his band of followers had defeated the almighty Darken Rahl. He trusted they could do anything.
The cloaked figure considered himself to be many things, but a fool was not among them. He'd seen the cracks starting to appear throughout the lands and the sickly green crevices that led to the depths of the Underworld. The veil between worlds was starting to fail, and only the Seeker could put things to rights.
He'd followed the Seeker for weeks, always remaining just a few steps behind. He'd tracked them since they left the People's Palace, all across D'Hara and even to the very edges of the Old World. He hadn't crossed the boundaries alongside the others; in fact he'd waited for them to re-emerge. After almost losing hope that he'd never see the Seeker and his party again and convincing himself to enter into the Old World, Richard Rahl and the others had finally re-emerged from the other side. He'd been pleased of this, but still kept his distance.
After all, his mission was a delicate one, and the timing had to be precise. If he came to them too soon or in the wrong way, he wouldn't have a chance to explain himself before the Wizard reduced him to cinders with his fire, or the cursed Mord'Sith reduced him to a quivering mess courtesy of her Agiel. And those were the best case scenarios. He'd heard of stories of what a Seeker could do with the Sword of Truth, and he certainly didn't want to be on the receiving end of a swing from that. He would have to broach the matter carefully, and maybe he'd keep his head intact.
Whilst he had much to fear from the other three, in actual fact, the cloaked figure was not interested in them. It was the Mother Confessor that he was trying to get in touch with. There was much they had to talk about, much that he still needed to understand and get her guidance on. If he could just make her see, just for a moment, that he was no danger to her or anyone else perhaps he would finally get the answers to the questions that had plagued him all his life. He just hoped the compassion and capacity to see the good in others was a potent as the stories of Kahlan Amnell told. He smiled at the thought of her welcoming him with open arms, but knew that was about as unlikely as it could get. The best case scenario was her not trying to impale him with her fighting daggers.
Sighing heavily, he watched as the cloud of breath escaped the hood and fled into the raining air. He would have to set up camp himself for now, find a dark and dry corner where he could take a few hours rest before he made the final trip to meet the Mother Confessor.
The heel of his leather boot creaked a little as he turned in a brief arc to face the way he had come. Manoeuvring himself through the trees, he made sure he kept himself ducked down and low in case the Seeker or his companions had strayed out this far. It wouldn't do for him to be surprised at this late stage.
Shuffling forward, he tightened his cloak around himself and headed back into the small clearing he had walked through earlier. As he appeared through the trees however, he realised his immediate mistake. The whistle of an arrow pierced the hiss of heavy rain from the skies. In the dim lightning, his eyes didn't quite make out the arrow until it was upon him. Thankfully, the owner's aim wasn't as true as it should've been, otherwise the tip would have pierced his shoulder. Instead the bolt stuck into the trunk of a tree on his immediate right, quivering slightly from the stalled impact.
He peered through the sheets of rain as best he could. On the other side of the clearing, he could just about see them now. Rorick's men. There were at least three of them he could see, although there could be more hidden in the trees. Their thick bulky forms were a stark contrast to the slim trees all around them, their beards and fur lined cloaks matted from the falling moisture. They crashed out through the undergrowth, stepping fully into the clearing and focusing their attention on him.
As his training dictated, he automatically sized up the opponents. They were a great deal taller than him, and much more widely set than his lithe frame. Their faces were a mottled mask of scars and ruined flesh, a living testament to all the battles they had fought. Evil intended glowed in their eyes as they advanced forward, brandishing short swords and heavy axes meant for him. Clearly Rorick's original plan of getting him back at any cost had been ejected in favour of a new strategy. Perhaps they wanted him, alive or dead. Well it would be the latter if he had anything to say about it.
"There ya are lad," the nearest drawled, losing a hand in the bush of his beard. "You gave us quite a chase, didn't you? Well the game's up now. It's time to come back to Rorick and get on with your job."
He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. "I told Rorick that I was done doing his dirty work for him." The retort was calm and measured, his twilight eyes never once losing sight of the fact that the three were trying to ever so subtly surround him. "I also told him what I would do to any more of his lackeys that came after me."
"Come on now Finn, be reasonable." The leader inched closer, his hand alternately tightening and relaxing on the hilt of his sword. "Rorick will treat you real nice if you just come back and do the job he paid you for. Surely that's gotta be better than running all the time?"
Finn shook his head. "I'd sooner die than go back to work for that louse." Lifting his hands, Finn carefully removed his head, pulling back to expose the messy length of his blonde hair. "I'll give you once chance to turn around and go back to Rorick. I suggest you take it."
"You know what the boss will do to us if we come back empty handed Finn," the barrel shaped man on his right spoke with a tone of something like fear. "We have to take you back."
"Is what Rorick will do any worse than what you know I'll do to you if you try and take me against my will?" The latest man to speak shrank back as Finn focused his gaze solely on him. These men weren't stupid. They knew why Rorick had procured Finn's services and exactly what he could do. It came down to who they were more afraid of, and Finn was happy to guess that it was more likely to be him. After all, they could run from Rorick. If they got tangled up with Finn, they all knew they'd never be free again.
"Oh enough of this!" The third man bellowed, holding his axe high. "You're coming back to the boss either as you are or missing your legs." He licked his lips, exposing briefly a set of several missing teeth. "Figure you can still do your job if you ain't got those."
The axe wielder roared with fury and charged toward Finn, his axe held high to bring it down on a diagonal death stroke. Unfortunately, he never got the chance. Finn dodged to the left with lightning fast reflexes. The man didn't have the chance to compensate for the sudden shift in position and swung the axe anyway, leaving his right side completely exposed.
Finn took full advantage of it, launching into a front straight kick. His leg flashed forward and the heel and sole of his boot connected with the lackey's arm. Finn felt the familiar snap of bone beneath the pressure of the kick and the following howl of pain. The axe fell to the sodden floor as he back away, holding his broken arm close to him and eyeing Finn warily.
Despite the display, the other two were not deterred. They both rushed Finn, one wielding a sword and the other stabbing forward a glaive. Finn twisted his body on the spot, avoiding the swing of the sword and the stag of the glaive in one swift turn. Both men had extended themselves forward and immediately they realised their mistake. Their arms were reaching forward, putting their entire bodies at risk for Finn who had managed to twist in between them. There was a flicker of sorrow in Finn's eyes, but it didn't last long. Steel determination focused his twilight orbs and he stepped into action.
Standing in between the two men, Finn thrust both arms forward. His hands caught his attackers around the throat and instantly he weakened his control over his power. It was only brief, but he felt his power flood out of him immediately. Finn's twilight eyes became inky black as his pupils coloured the irises. The lackey's eyes were completely taken over by the obsidian darkness, their expressions of terror almost immediately slacking into expressions of serene calm. It sounded like a distant roll of thunder as his power consumed the attackers, and the air pressure all around them changed and expanded outwards. Loosening his grip, Finn slumped to his knees, fighting to regain his breath. Using his power to dominate two people at once was taxing, and it would take him a few moments to gather himself.
"Command me, Confessor." The leader of the three said, dropping to his knees in front of Finn.
"Command me, Confessor." The second followed suite, both men kneeling before Finn, their faces anxious to learn their Confessor's command.
"How many men did you travel with?" Finn asked, resting his hands on his thighs to look up at the two he had confessed. The rain continued to poor down over them, but he made no effort to pull his hood up. He had to know how many other mercenaries Rorick had sent before he could relax.
The leader answered first. "We came with four other men Confessor. We were sent ahead to be certain of your location and report back. If we don't make contact with the others soon, then they will - ..."
He didn't finish his sentence as the whistle of arrows punctured the air. Several loud thunks finished the sounds off, and Finn could tell from the expression on his face that leader had been struck. There was no time to aid him. As far as Finn was concerned, he'd been confessed. There was no life for him now. Instead he turned to the second lackey.
"Give me enough time to escape." He ordered before getting back to his feet. The power of the Confessor once more was raging within him. Clearing his mind of negative thoughts, Finn focused on the task at hand and separated the emotions from it. He had to escape, and this man would help him do it.
Turning on his heel, Finn fled toward the tree line parallel to where he'd been observing the Mother Confessor and her companions before. He couldn't lead these vagabonds directly to them. Finn grabbed his hood as he ran, swiftly pulling it back and over his head. If he could just make it past the first few trunks, he knew he could escape. He'd just about reached the first trunk when the whistle of arrows caught up with him. On instinct, Finn twisted on his feet, contorting his body to an odd angle to hopefully avoid the oncoming bolts. What he hadn't counted on was the fact that the line of trees hid a steep bank.
Constant rainfall had left the ground and all the undergrowth slick underfoot. With his body twisted with furious momentum, Finn couldn't stop himself as his feet slid out from under him. His arms wheeled wildly but he failed to grasp any one of the trunks around him. He toppled to the ground, spinning end over end and over his sides as he plummeted to the bottom of the bank.
Something sturdy at the bottom of the bank awaited him. As he rolled to a final halt, the side of his head collided with the object and the impact sent out a bonfire of pain. Lights exploded before Finn's eyes, and the darkness claimed him before he knew what was happening.
Finn was left dead to the world, and easy prey for those that were looking for him.