Chapter 7 – Unexpected

This had not been a good idea. She should not have come. Her hope for a future that could never be had led her astray, to a place she did not belong, nor would be welcomed. But it was too late for second thoughts, they had long since passed into Westland, having found the path through the mountains to King's Port. They then traveled north, edging along the slopes of the mountains. Winter was coming, and she could already feel it's icy fingers on her neck, tormenting her. Kahlan had to give in, and allow Dragen to sleep beside her. She required his body heat for warmth, but nothing more. Though, he had thought otherwise the first night.

She stopped him before he could do anything, telling him to just hold her and keep her warm. He would say, yes mistress, and wrap his arms around her trembling body. Kahlan would clutch at her swelled belly, groaning from her sore thighs that ached from riding in the saddle. However, each night, the soreness and aches were never on her mind. Her constant thought was on Richard. Kahlan hoped beyond hope that he would listen to her and hear her out. Dragen may have been the one whose arms were physically around her, but it had been her thoughts of Richard that kept her warm at night.

As she closed her eyes to go to sleep, she would pull the only thing she had left of him closer, hugging it like it was his arm: The Sword of Truth. Though, clutching the cold steel close to her body while in the cusp of winter was probably not a good idea, it was something she could never give up. The Sword of Truth was all she had left of Richard, and she would caress the hilt and pommel, softly kissing the grip where Richard's smell still clung to the black leather. When riding, she would wear it over her shoulder, feeling reassured and safe with its weight upon her back.

To her, the sword was Richard… and Richard was the sword. They belonged with one another. That was why Kahlan had commanded Dragen to steal it from the First Wizard's Conclave. She had gone along and distracted Zedd, complaining about a fictitious malady, while her confessed mate snuck in and snatched the sword from its resting place. Then, in the dark of night, they had absconded, heading for Westland.

Since then, Kahlan had been pondering on how to first approach Richard. Her plan was to use the Sword of Truth to break the ice, as it were. She would tell him that she had come to return the sword to its rightful owner, and then hoped that he would allow her to speak some more. She desperately wanted to talk to him, to tell him everything and explain herself. But most of all, she wanted to tell him what she had discovered. And she prayed to the good spirits that he still loved her. Because if he did… then maybe, just maybe, when she finally gave birth to this child, they could be together.

She knew she was being foolish to even believe that Richard would take her back—there was no reason for him to do so. But she wished so much that it could happen. She wanted to be with him so bad that it ached and made her heart feel hollow and empty to think that he no longer loved her. Richard's love meant much more to her than she realized. When she had first agreed to take a mate, Kahlan had thought that she could handle it. But she had been wrong. The moment Dragen pushed himself inside her, she wept for what she had allowed to happen.

Richard should have been her first, and it pained her that he was not. She hated how it had hurt and how Dragen's ministrations had not eased that pain like the older confessors had told her that it would when she was younger. Perhaps they had never known true love and what it meant. Or how powerful it's absence could be felt. It had taken two agonizing weeks of opening herself to Dragen before she finally became with child. After that, she slept alone and wept, crying herself to sleep every night.

"Mistress?" Dragen's voice called her from her depressing ruminations.

Kahlan blinked, but could not bring herself to look upon his face. "What is it?" she asked, shifting her sore bottom on the saddle.

"The woods," he whispered, looking around. "They've gone quiet."

Kahlan narrowed her eyes, shocked to find that he was right. She heard no birds or other wildlife. "You're right," she said. The sun was setting and they were going to need to stop soon, but this development made her wary.

Dragen adjusted himself in his saddle, slowly removing his sword. He looked over at her, the protective instinct of a confessed man surfacing in his eyes. "We're being hunted," he informed her.

"Hunted?" Kahlan furrowed her brow.

He gave a nod. "Before, during the war, I used to hunt people for Darken Rahl," Dragen said. "My quad would stalk our prey, and it always seemed to grow quiet before the strike."

Kahlan bit her lower lip in worry. She did not like the idea that they were being followed. Or that someone or something was stalking them. "What do we do?" she asked, nervously.

"Stay here, mistress," he said. "I will protect yo—"

Suddenly, before he could finish his sentence, an arrow came out of nowhere and impacted Dragen in the chest with such force that it knocked him off his horse. Kahlan let out a cry, and watched as he fell with a hard thud. She knew the moment he hit the ground that he was dead. Her eyes grew wide with terror, seeing the blood pool out around the dead man who had been her mate. She felt no sorrow for his death; he had been a brutal D'Haran captain during the war. But at this moment, she had needed of him. Kahlan gripped the reins in her hands and kicked her legs, willing the horse into a gallop. She knew it was not wise in her condition, but her life was at stake. Kahlan placed one hand on her belly, while she directed the horse with the other.

"Stop her!" roared a voice. "We need the woman alive!"

Whinnies and snorts from other horses seemed to manifest all around her, and her mount skidded to a stop, letting out a high neigh of fear, as four large horses appeared around them. The mare she rode was small, and was suitable for cold weather and rocky terrain, while these were large work horses. Their riders were big men with unruly hair. One brought his mount up to hers and reached out, snatching the reins from her hands. Another yanked the Sword of Truth off her back, causing Kahlan to cry out in pain as the baldric dug into her flesh before it gave way and slipped off.

"Damn!" the man who had taken the reins cursed.

"What?" another questioned.

"She's with child," the first answered. "She's worthless to us."

"We could shed it," one suggested. "I bet we can find a good price for her. Even if she is spoiled, she is rather pretty."

The one holding her reins looked down at her with a critical eye, running his filthy fingers through her hair and feeling her breasts. "Maybe, but I ain't know child killer."

"Then what do we do?" his subordinate inquired.

"Let me see that sword!" the leader hollered at his comrade.

The man tossed it over. Kahlan watched as he scrutinized it. "This will fetch a nice price," he said. "See about the man's things. I'll deal with the woman."

Kahlan shivered, afraid that he was going to kill her. She watched as his men rode back to where Dragen's corpse was. They dismounted and went through his things, taking his boots, belt, and sword. One checked the saddlebags on the horse, then decided just to take the horse and deal with the items in the bags later. The leader shifted his mount closer to Kahlan.

"Now listen closely, dearie," he spoke in a harsh whisper. "The only reason you ain't being taken or killed is because of what's growing in that belly of yours. All I'm going to want from you is whatever coin you got."

"In… in the right saddlebag," Kahlan gulped, stuttering.

He nodded appreciatively and opened the flap, removing her coin purse. "You can be on your way, little lady," he grinned, winking. "Just pray to the good spirits that we don't meet again after you've given birth."

Kahlan swallowed past the lump in her throat as he handed her back the reins and backed his horse away, joining his compatriots. Cautiously, she squeezed her legs and encouraged the mare to go on. Her heart was beating like a drum during some corybantic ritual dance. She was terrified that the man was just taunting her, prolonging the torture. But when she had gone some distance, she looked over her shoulder to find that she was alone.

Looking down at her belly, Kahlan, for the first time, felt some affection for the child growing within. She had yet to be born, and she had already saved her mother's life. It was an unexpected feeling, but Kahlan embraced it, wanting to feel something other than terror and fear. After all, she was the Mother Confessor and she had been through rougher scrapes than that. However, she had always had Richard to help her get through those times. Now, she was alone, with no help or support.

It was not until her breathing eased and her heart slowed down that Kahlan felt the stabbing pains in her abdomen. She looked down, afraid that during the wild assault she had been injured. But when she looked down she saw nothing to support such a theory. Her mouth dropped and a groan forced itself out as a stabbing pain washed over her. Her breathing grew rapid again, and her brow grew moist. Spirits, this could not be happening. No, not… not while she was all alone.

Kahlan tried to hold herself together, hoping that she would arrive at some village or small settlement. She kept following the path. Each movement her horse made was agony for her, but she had to keep going. Using her confessor training, Kahlan suppressed some of the pain and pushed onward. It was well past midnight by the time she caught sight of the glowing lanterns of an outpost. Kahlan shuddered and sobbed through the labor pains, as she urged her horse towards the gates, hoping that she'd find some help there.