This story goes more in line with the books so, Darken Rahl is Richard's father not big brother.
Lord Darken Rahl was pacing the marble floors in front of his throne, his throne which had been his father's till five months ago. He no longer regretted his decision to kill the old man. The kingdom was better off without him. He was too meek and weak to fight for the empire which rightfully belongs to the House of Rahl. The once small kingdom was thriving under his rule, kings, queens and lords of all of Midlands crawling and kneeling at his feet. He had only one probable obstacle to eliminate. The prophesy of the Seeker, a future wielder of the sword of truth who's destined to kill him. The child is to be born in Brennidon so he's already send troops to siege the unfortunate town with orders to kill all the boys. Then like a veil being lifted from his eyes a new idea was drawn in his mind. What if he's wrong? What if this prophesy is something that can be avoided with the right kind of deception. Prophesies are fickle things, depending most of the time on the person who interprets them. May be he could find a way to avoid this damn prediction without becoming a kin slayer for a second time.
General Edgemont walked into the throne room, a grave expression on his usually grumpy face. "My lord, your troops have reached the garrison nearest to the town of Brennidon. They are well rested and ready to attack by nightfall."
"No." he silenced his head general with that one syllable. "I've changed my mind. Send a message through a journey book to the captain in charge of that garrison. Tell him that he's to bring all the heavily pregnant mothers and newborn babies to the People's Palace, alive and unharmed."
"But My Lord, are you sure it wouldn't be more prudent for you to kill the seeker in his birth place. It will fuel more fear in to the hearts of the people of Midlands."
"No, I know what will fuel fear into a person's heart more than anything General Edgemont," he said with a smug smile."The loss of all hope."
Yes, he will take that hope from people. He will raise and mold this child to be the extract opposite of all he was prophesied to become. The sword of truth will plunder and massacre all the enemy lands in his name.
This seeker will help him to destroy the resistance from within.
The man put a fist over his heart in salute, giving a bow. The D' Haran general's eyes came up to Rahl's. His fist was still over his heart. "By your command, Master Rahl."
He slit the throat of the young mother with his free hand, cradling the new born with his other hand. It was a pity he had to kill her; she looked terribly young, handful of years younger than him, and still beautiful even after given birth only a few hours ago. She might have made a worthy queen with her powerful magical blood. He remembered her as one of the woman he'd raped about a year ago in Stowecroft. She'd seemed so special even back then. Now he knew why. She was destined to be the woman who would give him his long awaited heir with strong magical blood. But he could not risk the woman interfering with his plans for her son, no not her son; the baby was now his and his alone. But he decided to grant her last wish and name him Richard as she requested. Richard is a strong name, worthy of a future king of D' Hara. But the boy will never know anything about the Zorander side of his family.
The baby didn't even make a whimper as he slept peacefully his father's arms as he stood next to his mothers still warm but lifeless body.
Richard crossed his arm over his chest and bent his head towards the floor. His dark hair and soulless brown eyes hidden under the black hood of his cloak. When he lifted his head, his eyes drifted upward to the sight of his father on the throne of D' Hara. "My Lord." Leaning forward slightly Darken Rahl extended his hand with a slow smile. "Come forward." He curled his fingers, beckoning Richard closer.
Richard ascended the steps towards the throne slowly, keenly away of the eyes of the court upon them. He could feel the courtiers' eyes on him, could hear their whispers. They only knew him by his growing reputation as the black wind of D' Hara, the deadly assassin. When he reached the base of the throne, he set down his bow and quiver and knelt.
Hooking a finger under Richard's chin Rahl lifted his face to look at him. "I'm glad you're back, my son, unharmed and well." He said, his cold blue eyes flashing up to the rest of the court.
"Leave us." He waved dismissively at them. "I need to have a private word with my most loyal ally."
Richard listened to the rustling, clinking sounds of cloth and metal moving as the lords and ladies of the court left the great hall. At length, they were alone in its wide, echoing chamber and Richard's brown eyes met Darken Rahl's crystalline blue. "My Lord, I have returned from the mission you gave me. And I await your further command."
So eager." His father told almost to himself, ruffling Richard's hair. "I'm so lucky to have you my son, but such formalities are not needed when we are alone."
"Forgive me My Lo…father, it's just…I don't feel comfortable in this room, with all your snobbish, pompous old courtiers."
Darken Rahl's lips twisted in to something that could be described as a shadow of a smile. In fact, Richard couldn't recall ever seeing his father smile.
His father motioned for Richard to rise. "Tell me about your mission. Did it succeed the way I said or, did the stupid town flocks give you trouble?"
"Oh come on father, they were not even expecting any threat, didn't even have a single person with battle training. They started crawling at our feat, begging for their lives the second they saw me and the Mord-Sith. But when we entered the temple, the tricky monks tried to lure us to a trap, a sand slide, can you believe it? I channeled my Han and shoot an arrow and it cracked through at least half a dozen of them, sending all of the fools into disarray. I wish you were there to see it." He said ruefully, his hand went inside his backpack and retrieved a thin obsidian cylinder which was only about ten inches long. Without hesitation he placed it on his father's outstretched palm.
Darken Rahl stared at the cylinder. "This is it, the scroll of Mauta kā abhiśāpa, the Mortal's bane. This will tell me how to find the third box."
"Before you open that case father, there's something I must tell you. I entered the chamber where the scroll was hidden to see the head monk holding the parchment in his hands. I killed him before he could finish whatever he was doing with it, but it seems he's sacrificed all his Han to cast a spell on the scroll, the last of the letters disappeared before the sun's in the west yesterday."
Rahl's face reddened. "That can't be right! The head monk was just a minor wizard. Not even a wizard of the second order can cast a spell that can last long after his death."
"Fear not father, I have all the knowledge of the scroll in my head. Before the words disappeared, I learned the words, the knowledge. I can recite it all to you if you don't have a spell that can bring them back."
The man stood staring, unmoving, regarding his son with curious eyes.
"Recite the words of the Scroll."
Richard nodded, "the most important thing it said was that you'll have to find the Book of Counted Shadows first. Even if you have the last box, you'll need its knowledge to get the covering off. "
After that, he went on, reciting the complicated words of the scroll.
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. As he listened to Richard reading out the book, he knew it was true; he recognized the unique syntax of a scroll of magic. Richard couldn't be making it up. It was the scroll of Mortals' bane. He wondered at how Richard had learned it. He had hidden the boy from the sisters of the light who had been sent to take him to their palace in the old world, handing over his training to Giller, his most faithful dark wizard.
Darken Rahl sat on his Throne numbly, listening. Some of the words themselves were magic and none but one with the gift could keep the words in his head; the magic would erase the whole of it at certain magic trigger words. Protection against unseen circumstances. Protection against just anyone getting hold of the magic within. That Richard could recite them was proof he was born to it. Born of and to the magic. As much as Richard hated the magic, he was magic, as the prophecies foretold. His one true heir.
"You have done well Richard. You have pleased me with your quick wit. I'm sorry I know you've just returned home after a long mission but I have another task for you."
"Just tell me what you want me to do father!"
"I wish it were that easy, my son."
Darken Rahl licked his fingertips and turned, pacing in front of the massive hearth in the Throne room.
"Let me show you something."
Richard followed him to the adoring chamber next to the great hall where a wedge of white stone upon which sat a flat slab of granite held up by two short fluted pedestals. In the center of the slab sat two of the boxes of Orden. One was ornately jeweled like the one Richard had seen before. The other was as black as the night stone, its surface a void in the light of the room: the box itself, its protective covering removed.
"Two of the boxes of Orden," Rahl announced, holding his hand out to them.
At a far corner of the chamber upon another pedestal, a golden bowl of shimmering blue water glistened in the late afternoon sunlight. Master Rahl chanted an incantation in an ancient magical language after which the water cleared, showing them a vision of some kind.
"Look at the water Richard, tell me, what can you see?"
The wind whipped Zedd's robes as he walked the narrow path through the tall grass. The clouds were thin, illuminated by the moon, which gave enough light to see by, even though he didn't need it; he had walked the same route thousands of times.
Standing next to his cloud rock, Zedd pointed down at it and began turning his bony finger in a circle as if stirring a stew. The massive rock grated against the ground as it tried to revolve with the movement of Zedd's finger. The rock shuddered, trying to rotate its own weight. Popping and snapping, it fractured, sending hairline cracks shooting across its surface. Its trembling bulk struggled against the force being applied. The granular structure of the stone began to soften. Unable to maintain its state any longer,
the texture of the rock liquefied enough to allow its mass to rotate with the movement of the finger above it. Gradually the speed of Zedd's stirring increased until light erupted from the rotating liquid rock. The light built in intensity with the speed of Zedd's hand. As colors and sparkles of light spun, shadows and
forms came into the center of the light and vanished as the fog of brightness increased. Light threatened to ignite the air about him. A dull roar, like the sound of wind rushing through a fissure, came forth. The smells of autumn changed to winter clarity, then spring's new plowed ground, summer's flowers, and back to autumn again. Clean, pure illumination chased the colors and sparkles away. The rock abruptly solidified and Zedd stepped atop it, into the light. The brightness faded to a faint glow that swirled like smoke. Before him stood two apparitions, mere shadows of form. Where sharpness should have been, their shapes softened like a dim memory, yet they were still recognizable, and the sight of them brought quickness to Zedd's heart.
His mother's voice came hollow and distant. "What troubles you, son? Why have you called us after so many years?" Her arms stretched out to him.
Zedd's arms reached out, but could not touch her. "I am troubled by what the Confessor tells me."
"She speaks the truth."
He closed his eyes and nodded as his arms lowered with hers. "It's true, then, all my students, save Giller, are dead."
"You are the only one left to protect the Confessor." She drifted closer. "You must appoint the
Seeker."
"The High Council sowed these seeds," he protested, frowning. "Now you want me to help? They turned my advice away. Let them live and die by their own greed."
Zedd's father floated closer. "My son, why were you angry with your students?"
Zedd scowled. "Because they put themselves before their duty to help their people."
"I see. And how is this different from what you do now?" The echo of his voice hung in the air.
Zedd's fists tightened. "My help was offered, but turned away."
"And when has it not been so, that there would be those who were blind, or foolish, or greedy? Would you let them have their way over you so easily? Would you let them so simply prevent you from helping those who would be helped? Your abandonment of the people may have a reason that seems just to you, unlike the actions of your students, but the results are the same. In the end they saw their mistake, and did the
right things, the things you taught them. Learn from your students, son."
"Zeddicus," his mother said, "would you let Confessor die too, just like you couldn't save all those children of Brennidon and all the other innocents? Appoint a Seeker."
"I'll have to find one first."
She shook her head with a gentle smile. "He will find you!"
"He'll have to pass my tests, and we don't have enough time for that."
Her form drifted closer, her voice becoming more loving. "You know in your heart you have been hoping that he didn't die in that massacre, hoping he would come find you and show himself to be the one."
"To what avail?" Zedd closed his eyes, his chin sinking to his chest. "Darken Rahl has the three boxes of Orden."
"No," his father said, "he has only two. He still seeks the third."
Zedd's eyes snapped open, his head jerked up. "What! He doesn't have them all?"
"No," his mother said, "but he soon will."
"And the book? Surely he must have the Book of Counted Shadows?"
"No. He searches for it. I think it's here somewhere in Westland."
Zedd put a finger to his chin, thinking. "Then there's a chance," he whispered. "What sort of fool would put the boxes of Orden in play before he had all three, and the book?"
His mother's features sharpened into a look of ice. "A very dangerous one. He travels the underworld." Zedd stiffened, and his breath caught in his throat. His mother's eyes seemed to pierce him. "That is how he was able to cross the boundary and recover the first box: by traveling the underworld. That is how he was able to begin the undoing of the boundary: from within the underworld. He commands some in it, more with his every coming. If you choose to help, be warned: do not go through the boundary, or send the confessor through. Rahl expects it. If you enter, he will have you.
The Confessor came through only because he did not expect it. He will not make the same mistake again."
"But then how am I to get us to the Midlands? I can't help or find the seeker if I can't get to the Midlands." Zedd's voice was tense with frustration.
"We're sorry, but we don't know. We believe there must be a way, but it is not known to us. You will find a
way." Their forms began to shimmer, to fade.
"Wait! I must have the answers to my questions! Please, don't leave me!"
"We're sorry, it is not our choice, we are called back behind the veil."
" Please help me."
His father's voice was weak and distant. "We can't. You must search for the answers yourself. We have trained you well. You are more talented than we ever were. Use what you were taught and what you feel. We love you, son. Until this is settled, one way or the other, we cannot come to you again. With Orden in play, coming again could tear the veil."
His mother kissed her hand and held it out to him as he did the same in return, and then they were gone.
Zeddicus Zu'1 Zorander, the great and honorable wizard, stood alone on the wizard's rock his father had given him, and stared out into the night, thinking wizard's thoughts.
"Nothing is ever easy," he whispered.
"So, what did you see?" Rahl asked his son later as they sat in the old council chamber of his father's reign.
Richard leaned in his chair, feeling clean and refreshed after taking a long hot bath and a healthy rich meal. When he was going on a mission, he refused to burden himself with things like heavy camping materials which can slow him down. His usual team of Mord-Sith was okay with it. He knew they, especially Cara, secretly shared his attitude of light traveling.
"You couldn't see anything?!"
"I asked the mirror to show where your path leads next. Only you could see it. So, tell me. What did it show you?"
"Just an old man, a wizard l guess, talking to his dead parents."
"What did he talk about?" Suddenly, Richard was hit by a strange gut feeling, an instinct which has kept him alive in worst moments of battle. For the first time in his life he was compelled to lie to his father.
"About the boxes of Orden, (he left out the part where talked about the book of countered shadows) they told him that you have only two boxes. And to appoint a seeker."
Darken Rahl glared as he slowly licked his fingertips. "What was the old wizard's name?"
"They called him Zeddicus. Do you want me to kill him?'
Darken Rahl smirked. "No my son, I want you to become the next seeker of truth."