Chapter 6 – Flight

Cynthia woke up with Richard's arms around her. Just the feeling of love she felt emanating from him made her feel guilty for being the one in his arms instead of the real woman he loved. Slowly, she tried to ease out of his hold, but his grip around her waist tightened, and he gently began to nuzzle her neck, murmuring softly. She could not hear what he said, but she had a feeling it was a certain name.

She closed her eyes, suppressing the tears of guilt that were threatening to unleash themselves. She had never felt this way before. Never, in her entire life, had she felt guilt or shame. Her life had been simple before the Order had come to tear it all down. And it had been far happier.

Gently, she gripped his hands, and pulled them off her, easing up out of his hold, making sure not to wake him. She slowly sat in a crouch and gazed down upon his handsome features. Her heart fluttered a bit as she watched him breathe, hearing him murmuring a name softly in his sleep. But the name was not hers. It was the name of the Mother Confessor Kahlan Amnell, which touched his lips when he murmured.

Cynthia closed her eyes, chiding herself for even allowing herself to believe that this man could love her. She was just a mirror image of the woman he really loved. Nothing more, nothing less.

She made her way around the campfire and reached for the pack. Before they ate, she had noticed the Lord Rahl look through it. She wanted to see what had intrigued him so. All she saw was food bits and a change of clothes. Underneath all of it, wrapped in some linen, was a beautiful blue dress. Cynthia looked back up at the Lord Rahl, watching as his chest rose and fell as he breathed. With great care, she reached into the pack and pulled the dress out, unfolding and holding it to her.

It was gorgeous, quite breathtaking really. She stood and draped it over her, taking in how it would look if she wore it. Cynthia loved the soft velvety feel of the fabric. She had never felt such softness before. It felt smooth and delicate in her hands. Holding it up to her chest, she flattened the folds over her stomach and looked down at herself. By the Creator, she looked beautiful.

Then it hit her. This must be the Mother Confessor's dress. She pulled it away and folded it back up, covering it in the linen wrappings and placing it back in the bottom of the pack. After replacing all the other supplies, she closed the flap and turned back to the Lord Rahl.

It was wrong for her to even touch the belongings of the Mother Confessor. Those items were precious to her and her alone. She looked down at her hand, seeing the ring. The Lord Rahl had placed this on Kahlan Amnell's finger during their wedding. Now Cynthia wore it and paraded around as if she was his wife.

Guilt swelled up from her core and she felt like crying. She could not believe she had tried to make the Lord Rahl betray his vows of love and fidelity to the Mother Confessor. She had tried to seduce him, and had been extremely close to having him take her and release his seed, but he had pushed back, hearing the cry of his beloved, yet not fully registering it. Cynthia took a deep breath and pulled the ring from her finger. She did not deserve to have it.

Tiptoeing across the camp, she knelt down beside the Lord Rahl and wiped a tear that had manifested itself on her right cheek. Anguish at what she had done filled her heart and she openly wept as she placed the ring down on the ground beside him. She leaned down and brushed the hair from his brow. By the Creator, he was so handsome! She had not expected that. In a way, he reminded her of her long dead husband. They both had warm brown eyes and kind smiles.

"Forgive me," she whispered, then leaned down and gently kissed his lips. As she backed away, the Lord Rahl stirred and murmured Kahlan's name. "You'll find her… I know you will. Sorry."

Hugging herself tightly, Cynthia rubbed her arms and sighed, sniffling as she thought of what to do. They were close to Aydindril, and she knew that D'Haran patrols must be close by. She could leave him here with no worry that he would be picked up by his people. She had no right to go with him. She was not his wife, just someone pretending to be.

Slowly, she drifted back away from their camp and slipped into the forest, softly sobbing as she went. All Cynthia wanted to do was crawl into some hole and die.

XXX

Nicci watched as the sun rose above the horizon. She and Cara had taken turns on watch, deciding that Kahlan needed more rest with what had happened. She was unsure what it was that Kahlan had really seen. Nicci found it hard to believe that even without his memory, Richard would betray Kahlan. The Seeker and the Mother Confessor were linked by their souls. Nothing, she believed, absolutely nothing could separate them or keep them apart.

The sorceress turned and looked to her right, as the blanket covering the Mother Confessor moved, as Kahlan sat up. Her long dark hair cascaded down, framing her pale face. Her brilliant blue eyes looked tired and sad, and her eyes were rimmed red with tears. Nicci stood up and slowly strolled over to her. Kneeling down on one knee, the sorceress placed a hand on Kahlan's shoulder.

"Sleep did not come?" she asked.

Kahlan hugged herself with her arms and looked down, shaking her head. "I couldn't," the confessor asserted. "Not with the knowledge that Richard was alone with that woman… Spirits know what they might have done last night to keep warm!" Kahlan burst into tears.

Nicci sat down beside the Mother Confessor and put her arm around her, pulling her into a hug. She held the confessor to her breast, as a mother would with a child. Kahlan buried herself in Nicci's embrace and sobbed loudly. Cara stirred and sat up, narrowing her eyes, but said nothing, seeing how upset the Mother Confessor was. The Mord'Sith stood and began preparing breakfast.

Kahlan pulled back and wiped her cheeks with her hands. "I'm sorry for being so emotional," she gulped in some air. "I… I've just never had someone like Richard before. He… He…"

"He is your husband," Nicci said. "And he loves you. Even if he does not know that now, I believe, that deep down in his heart, he still loves you."

Kahlan sniffled and gave a nod. A small smile formed across her lips. "Yes, I suppose you're right," she said. "The way he looked at me still held some of that love. It was hidden beneath the surface, but I could still see some of it there."

Nicci gave a nod. "Then there is still a part of him who knows the difference."

"Then how could he make love to that woman!" Kahlan demanded. "If it's true, what you say, and that there is some small part of him that remembers me… ME!... then how can he do that? How could he betray me?"

"Look, Kahlan," Nicci said, being firm. "I don't mean to be so blunt, but there are certain things that… well, that we cannot control."

Kahlan blinked. "Are you saying that Richard cannot control his sexual urges? Because he seemed perfectly in control before we knew we could be together. He… he learned to suffer in silence." She paused for a moment and looked towards the fire Cara had restarted. "As did I."

She looked back up. "In a way, it was harder for me, because I knew what could have happened. I was the one who had never felt another's touch, yet wanted desperately too. Spirits," Kahlan groaned. "Nicci, I want him. I want him back. He's mine… he's mine!"

Nicci wrapped her arms around the wailing confessor. "Yes, I know. And we'll get him back. I swear to you. I will not rest until you two are reunited."

"As do I," Cara said firmly with a nod. "We will get the Lord Rahl back." She squatted down beside them and handed out a piece of bread. "Now eat."

XXX

Richard woke with a start to find no warm body next to his. Fear immediately assaulted his senses. His eyes grew wide as he jumped up, tossing the blanket off.

"KAHLAN!" he cried, feeling a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her in danger. He knew that all his memories had been wiped, taken from him, but he had his memories of the past five days. Kahlan was the only person he knew, the only one who seemed to care for him.

He looked around frantically, screaming her name at the top of his voice until his lungs hurt with the exertion of it. His eyes darted around their small camp. There… lying on the ground beside their bedroll was her ring. He crouched down and picked it up in a trembling hand.

Richard closed his eyes, trying not to imagine the worse. He gripped it tightly in his hand, and then placed it in his breast pocket. As the sun rose, his eyes scanned the ground. Then he noticed it. It was not clear at first, but as the light began to glow in the horizon, he could see the faint traces of footprints in the dirt. He had a feeling that he had been good at this, tracking. He knelt down and ran his fingertips along the edges of the indentation in the ground.

"Kahlan?" he muttered softly.

Narrowing his eyes as he made his decision, he returned to the camp and quickly packed things up. He gripped the scabbard and attached it to his belt. Richard furrowed his brow, angry and afraid at the same time. Had she left on her own accord, or had she been taken? These thoughts raged through his mind, as he stuffed the blanket into the pack.

Standing up, and hefting the pack onto his shoulder, Richard went running into the forest, his eyes constantly searching the ground for traces of the woman who was his wife and very important to him.

XXX

Bree was angry. She had not found them. Despite all her planning and scheming, things appeared not to be going her way. She had spent many months formulating this plan, and had been blest with the discovery of the girl Cynthia. But now, it appeared that her careful planning were all for not. Cynthia had not followed her instructions and she had not found the Lord Rahl and the woman in the desired location.

She had selected it previously, and had specifically told Cynthia to bring the Lord Rahl here. It was the place where she had wished to have the Lord Rahl bend to their will and plant his seed in Cynthia. She had set things up using what had been left of her additive magic to enhance the probability of conception.

With the Lord Rahl's seed implanted in Cynthia, the Imperial Order would have access to the blood of a war wizard through a vessel they could control from birth. They would no longer have need of the Lord Rahl, and they could then kill him. However, for some odd reason, the Emperor had wanted him alive. As if he wanted to torment the Seeker with the knowledge that he, the Emperor, would be raping the Mother Confessor.

However, that plan had backfired as well. She no longer had the Mother Confessor and now it appeared she no longer had the Seeker. Bree grumbled and folded her arms across her chest. She was going to need to make new plans, and she would have to take into account the Chimes. She had previously ignored them, not believing that the Lord Rahl and his friends would have been foolish enough to free them, but apparently they had.

She shook her head, marveling at out such foolish people were capable of fighting off the advance of the Order and stopping the Keeper from his victory over the world of life. The only part of the Keeper's plan that she was glad had failed was his ploy with Darken Rahl. The villain did not deserve an extra chance to prove himself.

Bree was pleased when she had learned that Rahl had failed and died in his attempt to kill the Mother Confessor while bedding her. From what she had learned, he had never even gotten the chance. The Mord'Sith, the loyal dogs that they were, sent him to Nicci, while the Seeker got to take the Mother Confessor's maidenhood in secret, giving him access to the Temple of the Winds.

As she stepped out into the clearing, Bree glanced down at the blanket she had engendered her magic into. She leaned down and felt it, reaching out with her waning Han. She sighed. Her plan would not have worked, even if Cynthia had followed instructions. The magic had already been sapped from it. Her own powers were growing weaker by the day.

Suddenly a sharp laughter echoed through the clearing. Bree glanced up, her brow furrowing in concern. The wind rustled around, causing the fallen leaves to dance in the air. She glared at the sight, believing she was seeing something that looked like a face peering at her.

The laughter was joined by two others and then it stopped, and the winds picked up and died just as quickly. Bree shuddered and clutched her cloak tighter to herself.

"I have bigger problems then finding my errant ward," she murmured to herself as her green eyes scanned the horizon. The Chimes were about, and there was no telling to what mischief they were up too. They obeyed no one, and though their effect would ultimately aid in the Keeper's goal, even He could not control them.

Standing up, Bree looked around, deciding that, for the moment, it would be better to rejoin the Emperor. She would, no doubt, take a beating and be punished with some vile sexual acts, but she would rather face that than the Chimes. If what she had learned at the Palace of the Prophets was true, if you were killed by the Chimes, your soul would be forever lost in a state of limbo. And she did not want that. She wanted to be able to go to her eternal father, the Keeper, when she died and not be stuck in a purgatory of lost dreams.

Bree tucked her cloak around her slender frame and dodged back into the forest, seeking to escape from the reach of the Chimes of Death.

XXX

Cynthia dashed through the brush, pushing branches out of the way. Her brow was sweaty and her hair was matted, sticking to her moist skin. Her warm breath was issuing out in a soft stream, trailing behind her as she rushed through the forest. She stumbled, catching her foot on a root, and tripped into a clearing, sending a murder of crows scattering and cawing into the air. Cynthia let out a cry as she raised her hands in front of her to break her fall.

She closed her eyes and prepared to hit the ground, but then something caught her. Rough hands grabbed her arms and pulled her up. Cynthia let out a cry when her eyes caught sight of the brutish men that surrounded her. They were not D'Harans… they were men of the Imperial Order. And by the look of them, they were scouts.

"Well, well, well… look what we got here," one said, his mouth turning into a cruel grin as his comrades held her up for him to see. He was obviously the one in charge. Cynthia shivered as his dark eyes gleamed with sick lust as he openly leered at her breasts.

Her chest heaved up and down as she took in quick breaths to recover from her long run. If she had truly been the Mother Confessor, she probably would have been able to confess one of these men to defend her, but unfortunately she was not. It was all just a fiction to seduce a man who she had left behind.

One of the men holding her began groping her breasts, running his filthy fingers across her moist flesh. The other's hand dropped down to her waist and slipped between the flaps in her skirt. She shuddered as his cold hand touched her warmed thigh and drifted towards the center of her legs.

He smirked when he touched her. "We're in luck," he chortled. "She's got no underthings."

The men laughed and cheered, and they pushed her towards the ground. Cynthia closed her eyes, knowing what was to come. She'd been through this before, when her husband had been killed and she had been taken by the Order. It had not been the last time that men had forced themselves on her. She had been sent to the tents when she was taken to the army camp, and then there was the wizard Neville.

"Wait!" the leader snarled, pulling his men off her.

The man on top of her had not wanted to be taken away from his prize, and his grip on the top of her bodice was tight. When he was pulled away, the fabric ripped, causing her breasts to come free. The men hooted with delight at the sight of her exposed flesh and hands descended upon her.

"I said stop!" growled the leader, pulling out his sword and stabbing one of the men, severing his arm and killing him with a quick thrust in the gut. That got their attention and they moved away, snarling and sneering in anger. "Pull her up."

The men grabbed her arms and hauled her up to her feet. The leader stared at her, his dark eyes scrutinizing her face. His eyes drifted down to follow the flow of her hair, taking in its length.

"By the Creator, she's the Mother Confessor!" he said, gaping. "We cannot touch her."

"Why?" one of the men snarled.

"She's a pretty little whore!" hooted another.

"Looks to be tight, too!" sneered a third.

"We'll break her in until she no longer has any fight in her," the first finished, grabbing at her breast.

The leader scowled and pulled the man's hand away from her exposed flesh. "She is for the Emperor," he growled. "You know how he likes the ones that squirm." Some of the men nodded, while others grumbled and looked around at each other.

"Why does it matter? She is no virgin," the man who had been on top of her said. "Surely the Lord Rahl has already taken her maidenhood. The Emperor will have no way of knowing that we've had our way with her. Besides, the Emperor's witch can tighten her cunt if need be."

"Silence fool!" snarled the leader. "The Emperor will know. He may even be in our minds right now! We dare not risk his wrath."

The man scowled. "I don't care," he grabbed Cynthia, wrenching her from the others, and flinging her around to ram her against a tree trunk, pressing her face against it. "I've been without the wetness of a woman's flesh for too long. I will have my prize."

The others seemed to agree with him, and they formed a shield, preventing their commander, who was fuming with rage, from advancing. "You dare defy your commander!"

"Commander? What commander?" one of the others said as he whipped out an axe and cleaved the leader's head in two. The body wobbled for a moment before collapsing. Blood splattered across the clearing and the men laughed.

Cynthia cried as she felt the man pressing himself closer to her. He gripped her skirt and pushed it up. He spat on his fingers, wetting them, before sliding them between her legs, rubbing her femininity. He pressed his lips to her neck and nibbled and licked at her.

"What? No fight, Mother Confessor?" he teased. "You just going to take it?" He laughed and turned back to his friends. "The Lord Rahl must not be satisfying enough for her!"

The others all laughed. Then they began hooting and fighting over who was going to have her next. The man holding her reached down, and unbuckled his trousers. "Let's see how you like this, Mother Confessor," he laughed cruelly. Cynthia closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth, preparing herself for the violation to come.

Then a sharp sound of steel engulfed the air. It resounded throughout the clearing, followed by screams and grunts, as the men tried to defend themselves against the unseen attacker. However, they were not strong enough for this foe. Cynthia let out a sharp breath as the man's grip around her loosened. He backed away from her and she collapsed onto the ground, clutching her torn blouse to herself, trying to cover herself.

She looked up, as a flash of steel sliced through the man. Blood when flying and the man cried out, collapsing to his knees. A blade of glowing white steel thrust through the man's back and he gasped his last breath. The blade withdrew from him and he fell down dead. Cynthia closed her eyes and cried. Though she had seen worse under the boot of the Order in her home village, it was always difficult to see such things. She had heard that some people could become numb to violence, but she never understood how. It was all so horrible.

Cynthia heard the sheathing of a sword, and then strong arms were upon her, holding on to her in a tight embrace. His voice came, soothing and scared. She blinked and looked up to be met with warm brown eyes filled with terror and fright.

"Oh, Kahlan… thank the Spirits I found you," he nearly sobbed, helping her up. Before she could respond, he gripped her face in his hands and gave her a fierce passionate kiss.

Cynthia closed her eyes, relishing the feel of a kiss that had meaning to it, and was not something merely done for the pleasure of another. She allowed herself to ease into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. She had never felt this kind of kiss since her husband had been taken from her by the Order. But then, as the kissed continued, the feelings of guilt and shame swelled back up inside her, and she pushed him back, blinking as tears sprung anew.

"Why did you leave?" he asked, wiping away her tears. "Why Kahlan? I… I thought you loved me. That you were my wife and would stay by my side, like you said you would."

Cynthia gulped, wondering if he was repeating the things that the real Kahlan had told him. A new guilt pierced her heart at the thought of abandoning this man. She had played party to the theft of his wife, and now she was stealing something else he needed. Despite the fact he was obviously a strong man, it seemed that some of his strength derived from this woman he loved, this Kahlan Amnell. How could she now steal that from him, when she had already helped steal the woman herself?

"Richard… I'm… I… I'm sorry," she murmured, rubbing her hands across his chest, feeling her heart pound fiercely in her chest in a way that it had only done once before; when she was with her husband. Don't, she told herself. Don't fall in love with this man. He is not yours. He is another's. You just happen to look like her. But it was hard. He was so handsome and so very kind and gentle.

"Here," Richard said, reaching inside his breast pocket and bringing out the ring. "Let me put it back where it belongs."

Cynthia's breath caught. It did not belong to her, yet here he was placing it on her finger. She closed her eyes, suppressing the tears of grief at her deception, knowing that now was not the time to reveal it. She needed to continue this charade for a little longer. Just long enough to get him back to his friends. Then… then they could help him.

Noticing her torn top, he spun the pack around and pulled out one of the spare clothes. She tried to protest, knowing that the blouse was the Mother Confessor's, but as far as he was concerned, she, Cynthia, was the Mother Confessor. Eventually, she relented and allowed him to replace her destroyed top.

After she was changed, she grabbed his hand and pulled him close. "Richard… I'm sorry, I truly am," she murmured softly.

His hand came up and caressed her cheek. "Don't you ever leave me again, Kahlan," he replied softly, his breath was warm against her cheek. "With my memories gone, you are the only one I believe I can trust."

The stab of guilt hit her again. If only he knew the truth, he would not be saying such things. She gave a nod and gestured with her head towards the west—the opposite direction she had been going. "Aydindril is in that direction, little more than a league or two."

He gripped her hand tightly. "Then we should go quickly," he said. "You should be safe there, yes? And I want you safe, Kahlan."

Without any protests, Cynthia followed him as they went back into the forest, leaving behind the bloody mess of the deceased Imperial Order scouts.