Chapter 9
Kahlan grabbed at a switch jutting from the trunk of a maple. Drawing near the summit, she was finding this part of the trail quite steep and the supple branch was just enough to steady her as she gained solid footing. She'd made it past the hardest part, past the place she had collapsed in Richard's arms. Vivid memories flooded her as she had drawn near and she'd felt the pit in her stomach grow and twist, threatening to take her down. But then she remembered Richard's calm voice, assuring her he was with her, telling her how much he loved her. She could almost feel his arms around her as she forced herself to go on. Now well past it, she showed no signs of slowing and wouldn't allow herself to think about it, afraid she would change her mind. Determination burned inside her: she would make it the top.
With a final pull on a large stump right below the highest ridge, she was finally up and over. Out of breath, she rested on the ground, panting from her effort as her eyes surveyed the scene. She saw an empty bench and a long cold fire pit. Her eyes quickly searched the forest looking for signs of Richard in among the trees but she saw nothing. She pushed herself to her feet, her heart sinking at not finding him here. She was about to call his name, thinking he must be nearby when her eyes caught sight of a small mound of dirt. It was ringed with rocks and had a large, flat stone at one end. Her breath caught in her throat. It was Ethan's grave. Kahlan shook with cold though it was a warm summer day. Tears stung at her eyes but she forced them away. After what seemed an eternity, she took her first tentative steps toward it.
Trembling uncontrollably, she knelt beside the marker. Placed after the funeral, she'd never seen it. It was a simple headstone, one gotten from the woods, not the stonemason in town. She looked at the letters, roughly cut, but deep and neatly aligned:
Ethan Rahl
Beloved son of the Mother Confessor,
Kahlan Amnell and her husband,
Lord Richard Rahl
Kahlan smiled and ran her fingers over the words she knew Richard's hands had carved. She liked that he used 'husband' rather than mate, for that's what he was: the man she loved more than life and the man who loved her equally in return. She looked down at the grave. Small as it was it seemed gargantuan before her, like it would open up and swallow her whole. For a time she wished it would. She dug her fingers into the dirt, clutching at the moist earth, burying her hands in it. She could no longer see the ground as quiet tears came to her. Grateful for this moment alone, she at last let herself go, sobbing uncontrollably as she lay over the small mound.
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Richard struggled to stand, his legs weary with lack of food or rest. He wasn't even sure where he was anymore or where he was going, he only knew he had to clear his head. He couldn't think when he was so close to Kahlan and their son's grave. He thought if he could just go deeper into the woods, be in the quiet among the trees, he could find a way through this.
He'd once again been atop the summit, sword in hand, letting anger rule his reason…It was the only way to escape the emptiness. When he'd turned from Ethan's grave and saw the sun rising – the dawn of another day – he knew he had to do something. They couldn't go on like this. He took a long look at the Confessor's palace before turning to kick dirt on the fire. Flames extinguished, he stepped over it, toward the thick of the forest, heading deeper into the still dark wood.
His days had become a blur. Richard had known he was spending too much time on the mountain but he hadn't realized how fully depleted he was until now. He'd rarely slept or eaten since Ethan's death. He staggered a bit on his feet. He didn't know how far he had gone but he hadn't stopped all day and the heat of the sun was wearing him down. Whenever he felt too tired to continue, he reached inside, calling on his wrath to help him persevere. He'd grown accustomed to the rage and let it abide in him without so much as a touch of his sword. It had grown something of a beast in him, filling him with dark thoughts. It was his constant companion. He wasn't sure if he could put away the anger even if he tried. But he didn't dare try. So deep had he fallen into the abyss, he was no longer bothered that he found it more tolerable than the emptiness he'd known for so long. In fact, he was finding he rather preferred it.
The sound of book babbling in the distance broke through his mental fog and Richard stumbled toward it. Pushing through a thick of bushes, he saw the stream far below at the bottom of a deep ravine. He needed water. He was so exhausted he could hardly stand. He started down the slope taking only a few steps before getting caught up in a twist of branches. Had he an ounce of strength he would have tried to catch himself, stop his falling. As it was, Richard tumbled limply to the rocks below.
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Kahlan laid across Ethan's grave for what seemed like hours. Judging from the position of the sun, it had been, and now that she was there she wasn't sure she would ever be able to tear herself away. At long last her tears abated, but she kept her face pressed to the dirt, as if resting a cheek on her little boy. "You were very special, my son. You were born in love. One day, we will see you again." She would tell him then that no other Confessor had ever been able to marry for love, and that he had been born to two who loved each other deeply. Then he would know how truly special he was.
She finally sat up and wiped the tears from her face leaving dirt stains on her cheeks. She looked about the clearing and saw how peaceful a space Richard had made there. She admired his hand hewed bench overlooking the valley. It was almost sunset and she could see it was the perfect vantage point from which to watch. The small fire pit off to the side, the one she had seen so often from her terrace, would provide just enough warmth and light for the evening. There was a true tranquility she found in being there and she felt like she could breathe for the first time in months.
Kahlan at last stood and brushed her hands on the skirt of her dress before taking a seat on Richard's bench. The sky glowed with vivid reds; streaks of pink and orange running through it. She settled in hoping he was alright. Richard was a man of the woods and she understood his need to go off into them. She was only sad that he didn't know how much he had helped her. She may have come up here on her own accord, but she was never alone. He was with her every step of the way.
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