A/N:Sorry the long wait. I had a small case of writer's block but i think it's all taken care of now. I originally meant this part to be only one chapter, but i always tend to get carried away with my writing so this next piece will be split into two chapters (otherwise it would have been waayyy too long and you guys would have to wait another week for me to write the next piece of it still). So enjoy!
I also wanted to say a BIG thanks to everyone who reviews this story and to everyone who reviews on here and the other two places I post this story: livejournal and the One Love: Confessor and Seeker Society board. i really appreciate all of your feedback and comments. they make for great motivation and it really brightens my day to know people enjoy reading something that I enjoy writing.
Sweat beaded down Kahlan's face. The sun's rays showed no mercy in the heat they emitted on the travelers. The soldier continued to march as though it was a cool autumn morning even though he was buried under armor and chain mail. "Why don't you take a break? You're going to overheat yourself and collapse."
The man's stride never faltered nor did he turn around, "And why would you suddenly be so concerned about my health?"
Her white dress clung to her body uncomfortably. "Because when I escape, I rather it be a fair fight. I don't want to win by default." The confessor could care less about this petty excuse for a man. If he dropped dead, all the power to him; but she doubted that would happen. He had been trained by Darken Rahl and therefore could withstand just about anything. Anything but the Seeker. She smiled inwardly at the thought. She had to buy time for Richard to catch up to them or they would both be killed.
The quad member slowly turned to face her. He appraised her up and down, trying to figure her out. Before she knew what was coming, a right hook slammed forcefully into her jaw. New blood spilled out of her mouth, running down her chin over the old crusted stream that already trailed down her neck. No pain was visible through the confessor's mask. "Confessors make horrible liars." Kahlan scoffed to herself at his statement; Richard had told her the same exact thing. Even she admitted lying was not her strong point. "But I do believe you have a point."
Kahlan narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his vague wording. Somehow she doubted it would go the way she intended.
Her suspicions turned out to be correct. About three hours later the pair was still walking through the forest, though their direction had changed. The soldier had grabbed the chains holding her wrists together and thrown her out in front. She walked as slow as the D'Haran would allow. If the confessor tested him too much, he jabbed her with the sword tip that was pressed firmly into her back. She already had four cuts including two deep ones that were still oozing red liquid. Kahlan would be amazed if any part of her dress was still white after this was all over.
The shout of another man snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up, realizing for the first time where they were headed. An enormous wall stood a few yards ahead of her stretching as far as the eye could see. Soldiers were positioned among various points, all weapons aimed at her. She stiffened involuntarily. She knew this was not the People's Palace, but it was obviously a D'Haran military camp. Once inside, there wouldn't be any hope for escape. Kahlan's feet seemed to feel as though they had turned to cement; each step was incredibly hard to take. It took a great effort just lift each foot off of the ground. Her captor noticed their pace slow which produced another long gash on the confessor's back. She winced against the pain. She thought by now she should be used to such agony. Though none could match what she felt when she thought of what Richard must be going through to try to get to her. Even if she told him not to come, she knew he still would. There was no getting through to that man.
Kahlan looked up. The guard posted at the gate smiled at her pain. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. He wouldn't be so cocky if her hands weren't gloved and bound. If only she could wipe that smirk off of his hairy face. His sword left its sheath. The metallic ring filled her mind as the steel sang next to her ear. Even though it didn't touch her skin, she could feel the cold radiating from the blade. Goosebumps appeared on her flesh. His eyes never left hers as he spoke to the soldier, "State your name, rank, and purpose here."
The man positioned behind Kahlan spoke with authority, "Captain Damian Rigel. I was personally sent by Darken Rahl with the other members of my quad to capture the Mother Confessor and return her to him. I am in need of two horses for the trip back to the People's Palace."
The gatekeeper looked taken aback. Apparently this quad member outranked him by a lot. "Yes Captain. Though I am not sure we have any horses to spare."
"Darken Rahl has been waiting for this lovely gift here," he shoved Kahlan closer to the sword as he spoke. She stretched her head backwards to keep from hitting the blade as it glistened in the sunlight. "I don't want to keep our Lord waiting. He would not be happy at all if he found out your garrison prevented him from receiving his present sooner."
No further explanation was needed as to what would happen if Lord Rahl became unhappy. "Yes of course captain, right this way." The man yelled up to the gate tower. The wall separated in two, revealing an entrance that would have been invisible to the untrained eye. Kahlan took a deep breath preparing herself mentally for what was to come. The now familiar poke in the back forced her forwards towards the waiting army.
One foot after the other. Soldiers lined a path on each side of the newcomers. Each of their weapons followed Kahlan as she passed them in turn. She kept her head up in defiance, refusing to lower it to these scum. Her eyes met theirs, angering many. It may not have been the wisest idea, but as a confessor, she had been taught to never bow down to anyone. She could not and would not show weakness, especially to murderers such as these.
Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, hiding much of her face from the people gathering around to watch the procession. Men began to hoot and holler at the tattered woman. Her face reddened though it could not be clear if it was in embarrassment or anger. Most likely it was from the latter. Whistles sounded from the side. The whole lot of them are pigs. Before she could take another step, a wet blob smacked hard into her cheek. Her eyes darted over to its source. The man grinned at her as his spit slowly slid down her face. She fought to keep from removing it. Any acknowledgement gave him satisfaction. Instead, she marched on with her head high.
Unfortunately, the spit wad had served as a catalyst. Paper balls flew at her from all angles along with spit and other objects. A wooden mug from a local pub made impact on the back of her skull, momentarily causing her vision to black out. Kahlan held her composure trying her hardest not to make any sudden movements when items hit her. Even children were running up to the front of the ranks, throwing what they could at the defenseless woman. Their mothers beamed with pride. Garbage littered the ground in the confessor's wake.
"ENOUGH!" a voice boomed throughout the camp, bringing all of the jeers and flying objects to a cease fire. The burly man turned his attention to Kahlan, staring her up and down as the gatekeeper had done. He spit at her feet to the cheers of his men. He raised an arm to silence them. "You dare bring this filth to my garrison? What business have you here soldier?"
"Sir, it is not my honor to have to drag this monster created by the Keeper himself all across the Midlands back to D'Hara and for you to have to lay eyes on her. I will be gone as soon as you can present me with two horses so I may deliver this to Lord Rahl." He shoved Kahlan to the ground. Her face landed in the leader of the camp's spit. She struggled to keep the bile in her throat down. Captain Rigel stomped hard on her back, holding her to the ground. Her breathing became shallow. "Please do not delay our departure. Lord Rahl has been waiting a while and I know we both do not want to upset our Lord. If you grant me two horses, I'm sure Lord Rahl will look favorably upon you sir."
The man weighed Rigel's words. "We can have two horses ready for you by nightfall. Until then, you may stay here. I will prepare a small army to accompany you to make sure Lord Rahl gets his package safely."
"That won't be necessary sir, I can handle this single bitch by myself. She is no trouble for one of my standing." He hid his true motives. Rigel wanted to be the one to present Darken Rahl with the Mother Confessor. The reward for her capture was his and his alone. He won't allow some soldiers who came into his mission at the very end to take the credit for his work. Besides, there was no way he was going to let this woman embarrass him in front of his comrades. With all of the tricks she had pulled on him already, he didn't want rumors to start spreading that he wasn't all he was cracked up to be. Her strength and determinism made his blood boil. He would break her, he would see to that personally.
"If you believe that to be wise captain." The camp's own captain's gaze wandered towards the confessor still face down in the dirt. "Tie her up to the wall in the center of camp. Let everyone see the monstrosities that defy our Lord and what happens to them when they do." His voice boomed over the onlookers. "Let this be a lesson to you all." His attention returned to the captain before him, "you are dismissed."
"Yes sir," Damian placed an arm across his midsection and took a small bow. It was not an act to show inferiority in rank, but to show respect. His foot put more pressure on Kahlan's back as he lowered himself into the gesture. The lack of oxygen getting to her lungs forced her to cough, inhaling dirt as she did which aggravated her lungs even more. Hacking and wheezing, the soldier grabbed her ankle, dragging her upside down through the dirt and garbage. She tried to twist herself around so she could breath but it proved impossible at the pace he was pulling her.
Finger nails scrapped against her tender scalp as he hauled her up by her hair. Her head throbbed as a migraine set in. Shoving her against the wall, he reached up to fastened her already bound hands to a hooked chain in the wall. Her feet almost touched the ground. He held her there while he tightened the length to his own liking. Once he was finished, he dropped her, causing all of her weight to pull down hard on her chained wrists. Kahlan's eyes squeezed shut to block out the pain and the smirk she knew would be plastered on his face. She could feel a warm liquid running down her arms making its way to her elbows. "Bastard…" she managed to mutter.
Rigel approached her once again, grabbing her face roughly with one hand. "What did you call me?" She refused to answer which prompted him to squeeze harder. He put his face as close as possible to hers without touching skin to skin, "I couldn't hear you, say it again." Again the pressure on her face increased. The confessor's bones screamed out in pain yet no sound left her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she hacked up a cough in his face. He closed his eyes against the tiny bits that flew out of her mouth onto his cheek and mouth. He released her, slowly using that hand to wipe off the spit. A feral growl escaped his throat. His hand drew back, slamming hard into her abdomen. She groaned against the impact, gasping for breath. His fist landed in her stomach again and again until he was panting. The last one that made contact finally caused a scream of pain to emit from Kahlan's sore throat. "Learn your place confessor, and you better learn it quickly." He walked away, leaving her dangling from the chains.
Kahlan tried to control her breathing. It hurt when air passed through her organs. Shallow breaths were the only way to prevent her from coughing. Soldiers and their families soon gathered around to stare at the spectacle. Jokes and laughter about the woman began to spread through the crowd like wildfire. One D'Haran approached her holding a tall cup. He slowly brought it above her head, letting the scalding contents pour out onto her scalp. She gritted her teeth as she took a sharp intake of air. The hot liquid sizzled down her skin. The others smiled at her misfortune. Another came up, using his weapon to chop off a lock of her hair. She growled. Her hair represented her status as Mother Confessor; they wanted to defile her position. No one could take that away from her. Despite knowing this fact, their actions still caused her mental anguish.
Soon there were so many people around her, she became overwhelmed. None of her training had ever prepared her for this. Hands and faces were everywhere. There was nothing she could say or do to make them stop. Panic overtook her mind as her body was pummeled with fists, feet, and other objects. She writhed against the chains, causing the metal to cut deeper into her wrists. More blood streamed down her arms to the masses' delight. They found her feeble attempts to escape amusing. Groans escaped her lips. Blue orbs scanned over all of the smiles in front of her. So many faces, so many people. Evil laughter filled her ears, resonating within them. She had to get out of here, she had to break free. Kahlan's body pushed off the wall, barely moving. If anything, she caused herself pain and the noise to increase. Her eyelids drooped down; she couldn't let them see the tears that had begun to form. It would only encourage them to do their worst.
Richard. She tried to block out what was happening to her. Richard. What had he told her he had done in his effort to resist Denna? That's right, he had partitioned his mind. He thought of Kahlan. Her mind wandered back to him; every curve of his body, every bulge of his muscles, every fine feature in his face. Tranquility flowed through her veins calming her, despite what was happening to her body. She was used to people hating her. It came with her job as a confessor. She was always blamed for the criminal's actions even though the only thing she did was force them to confess to their own actions. Her life was constantly threatened. That's why each confessor had a wizard traveling with her. Without one, they couldn't defeat a whole crowd. The only thing preventing people from attacking her was fear. These people had none. They had seen her beaten and unable to fight back; there was no longer anything to be afraid of if she could not harm them. This was their revenge.
Richard. He was different from the beginning. He didn't run from her when he first met her, he protected her. No one had ever done that of their own free will. Even after he learned what she was and about her powers, he stayed with her. He was the first friend she had ever had that wasn't a confessor. All of her life, she had been taught that men were weak and unable to control the evil within them; that's why a male confessor could never be allowed to live. Richard was anything but. His strength amazed her. Kahlan had to admit, when she found out she had to rely on a male seeker to be the hero of the midlands and defeat Rahl, she was very skeptical. She believed she could do a better job. But after only one day fighting by his side, she saw something unique in him. She had never met anyone as caring as this Cypher boy. After killing Fane, he had hugged her. The first time he touched her when he had saved her life at the cliff, she had put a knife to his throat. Feeling skin to skin contact that she did not initiate had startled her beyond reason. She reacted the way she had been taught to. Anyone touching her usually meant trouble. But when he had hugged her, she had relished in the feeling. Her body fit so well with his. Warmth had radiated from his body fresh from the battle. It felt so right. She had come to love his touch, crave it. No one else would touch her for fear of being confessed. They didn't understand her power, nor did they take the time to get to know the real Kahlan the way Richard had. He was the first person to trust her, to comfort her, to befriend her. He was the only one to love her for who she was without being a confessed slave. She always believed it to be impossible for a man to love a confessor, that is why the order of women always took mates. Then again, Richard seemed to be the exception to every rule.
Her eye was forced open by fingers. "You can't block us out freak." He blew a stream of air into her socket, causing her to squirm. She was slammed back into reality. She couldn't escape from them.
A hand reached forward, tiling her head back as another poured alcohol into her mouth. "Drink it bitch," they yelled. She choked as the beer spilled out over the corners of her lips. Another man produced a clothes pin which he firmly clamped down over her nose. A cloth was placed over her mouth to prevent Kahlan from spitting the drink back out. "Swallow or choke to death." She tried her best not to let the liquid go down her throat. The Spirits know she would have much rather died right then and there than to allow herself to be used in such a manner. Her body wouldn't listen to her. She had involuntarily swallowed the drink, burning her throat the whole way down. The men cheered at their victory. They continued to repeat the process over and over again. Many times she choked the vile drink back up to their dismay. Her vision became blurry as the voices of the people became muffled. She was losing herself. Who knows what else they may have slipped in the alcohol. Her last thought before darkness overwhelmed her was the happy thought that she may never awaken again.