Chapter 11

The Curse Is Come Upon Thee

"More wine, more wine!" the Margrave croaked merrily, waving his silver goblet in loose fingers as a servant quickly scrambled to his side so that she might fulfill his never-ending request. He smiled once he felt the weight of more drink in his cup, and he took no time in bringing the goblet to his lips and swallowing nearly half of its contents in one, single motion. Cara stopped herself from grabbing his wrist and pouring the wine out over his head as another dribble of wine dropped down from his goblet onto her bare thigh. The Margrave's soft hands, which had never seen a true day's work, slid up underneath her skirt, an action to which her response was a feigned smile of amusement that only a drunk would believe.

The entertainment for the moment was Kahlan, who was busy throwing knives expertly at a wooden target. It had been brought in that same day, and thankfully the Margrave had become completely immersed in the experience. Kahlan was glad for her small talent being useful, and imagined the daggers going through the Margrave's chest instead of hitting the red, center dot of the target's bullseye. Each time she sunk a dagger into the board with a satisfying thunk, the Margrave's hand ceased to slide up Cara's thigh as he was enamored with the feat. It was selfish to stifle his enjoyment of Cara, as it was the purpose of her guise, but getting the Margrave's hands off the Mord-Sith for even an instant made Kahlan throw harder and harder.

"You seem to not be enjoying this at all, Tara!" the Margrave jeered, pulling Cara closer to him and wrapping his hand around her back. She had panicked when he asked for her name, so Tara she had become. "You must be tired of watching her. As am I."

"I don't tire easily, Margrave," Cara murmured, trying her best not to look the Margrave directly in the eye. Ask had told to them all of these abhorrent Laws of Right and Good, how women must be far subservient in the presence of men. However, even with these laws in place Cara knew that a meek whore never did well. Cara needed to tow the line between getting his attention while keeping with the law, lest she anger him and ruin their entire plot. It seemed there was no danger of spoiling things, however, because the Margrave let out a hardy laugh and squeezed Cara's ass.

"Are you having a good time, my lovely?" the Margrave croaked after another goblet of wine went guzzling down his throat. His eyes were glazed over, fully immersed in looking directly at Cara's breasts. The man could barely stand for he had drunk far too much, he had recklessly indulged himself during the show. It was Cara who had helped this state along, who had not ceased the servant coming near over and over to pour him more drink, for she knew that the more he imbibed the easier it would be to persuade him. And, perhaps, he would fumble and fall asleep before he truly got a hold of her in the way that men do their simple women.

Cara smiled falsely at his grasping and grabbing of her backside, trying with all her might not to meet his beady little eyes. "Of course, Margrave. How could I have anything but in your presence?"

"Do you know what would entertain me most?" the Margrave asked rather quietly, leaning in closer to Cara so that his lips were so, disgustingly close to her ear. A thousand acts ran through her mind, each more upsetting than the last. "If you got upon that wheel, like they do at the fairs."

Kahlan heard what was requested of her and did everything she could not to betray the fear that ran through her. Sure, she was an excellent thrower, but she did not want to put Cara's safety on the line to prove it. Kahlan tossed two daggers at the same time as if to entice the Margrave back into the intended performance.

Cara, however, had become weary with playing court whore. She had long left behind her fear of death or injury, but more importantly she trusted Kahlan more than anyone else in the world. Besides, what was one more finger for the sake of the world? Without any hesitation, Cara leapt off the Margrave's lap, bundled her skirt in her hands, and went to stand in front of the target with her arms up high.

Kahlan looked to Cara, her cold, blue eyes trying to search for any hint of facade in Cara's eyes about it all. There was none, her face devoid of any deception. After giving the Mord-Sith a curt nod, Kahlan took a new knife by the blade and sunk it well off from Cara's left side. The Margrave scoffed from his throne.

"Take a step back," he ordered, and Kahlan had no choice but to oblige him. If they acted of their own accord, even once, it would break the illusion and ruin their plan. She drove another dagger into the board, hitting nearly the same mark as before.

"Closer, come on now! Are you a knife thrower, or just a housewife with too much cutlery?"

Kahlan felt the hilt of her knife grow moist with the sweat from her palms. Her heart raged in her chest each time she threw a knife at Cara. The Mord-Sith, by contrast, was completely devoid of emotion. Shut off and shut out, she stared at Kahlan as she thought about anything and everything else. The knives grew closer, thunking by her foot, by her breast, in between her legs, and yet Cara felt herself craving them nearer and nearer still. She shuddered at the thought of such violence, especially at the hands of the woman she loved. Cara wondered then, as she had for many sleepless nights since she had been taken from the temple, if love was not about being stripped of the power to harm another, but instead whether or not one unsheathed it.

The Margrave cackled and slapped his hand down on his thigh. He sank lower the longer the performance went on, pleased with himself that he had gotten, without mention, three performers to bend to his will. A whore, a fool… and a knife thrower, who had shown herself to be far more interesting than he had first thought.

Kahlan, feeling more confident, took two knives in her hand, knocking them both perfectly into the wooden board, right above Cara's head. Ask turned away, unable to hold back his anxiety over the whole situation. All he could see was Cara strung up in a Mord-Sith temple, like the stories he had heard. Berdine and Raina had no problem recounting their tales from past days to him, as if they were memories of picnics or silly family members.

"Are you not entertained?" the Margrave asked, suddenly confused with Ask's disgust in the show.

"I-I am, I just—"

"Do you know what you're here for, idiot?" the Margrave asked. Kahlan froze in place, Cara stayed precisely where she was, both trying incredibly hard not to look right at one another. In their collective bedchamber they had decided that, in order to gain access to the dungeon, one of them must get into trouble with the Margrave, they had decided that Kahlan was the best for the job. Cara was too much of a delight to the Margrave, and she would be the likely one that could get him or a guard alone long enough to get the prison cell keys from them. Cara knew the ways of seduction like an old friend, just as well as she knew the paths of pain.

But Ask was never part of that equation.

"I apologize, my lor—"

"Margrave. As my father was… and his father… before him, and his before him," the Margrave growled, a slight gurgle coming from the back of his throat. The wine had dulled his senses too much, now he was lashing out at Ask for their indifference.

"Margrave, I apologize. It was not—"

"Did I ask you to speak?" said the Margrave, voice full of anger and entitlement. "I think you need a stern reminder of your place. Edyl… take this… jester to the dungeon."

Kahlan knew that it was better to remain silent. She watched as Ask's wild eyes caught hers, but she only gave them a slight nod and a soft smile out of the sight of the Margrave. It was not the plan, but they must go along with it. Ask played along as they were seized by the large guard and dragged down the hall. All that was left of them was their little hat, which Kahlan bent down to pick up.

"Come now, Tara. Let's see what you can do," the Margrave ordered roughly, pulling Cara along into his bedchamber.

Kahlan retired to their quarters with a rattling feeling in her chest. The guilt began to creep in— she had thrown Ask and Cara to the wolves. While she whole-heartedly knew that Cara could take care of herself in almost any situation, things had changed. A year ago, they were selflessly putting their lives on the line to aid Richard in his quest to keep the world safe. Now, Kahlan tore herself apart thinking about a world where any harm came to Cara, especially if she could stop it. It did not help assuage her worries to know that Ask was somewhere in a cell without any magic to aid his release. It was all up to herself and Cara to secure some sort of way to free Ask and the sorcerers from their binds.

The door creaked open without a knock, Cara rushed in and locked the door behind her. There was a scuff on her cheek, but overall she was unharmed. Kahlan closed the distance and tucked Cara's head beneath her chin. She felt the Mord-Sith struggle for a moment before complying.

"He let you go so soon?" Kahlan asked, keeping hold of Cara.

"I showed myself out. He was so drunk that he fell asleep with his head under my skirt," Cara said evenly. Kahlan gave her one last squeeze, the warmth of her skin calming Kahlan's nerves, then held her at arm's length. "I did learn something while I was there. He doesn't hold a key to the dungeon."

"How? He's the Margrave?"

"He's a habitual drunk. One of the guards must have it, we just have to figure out which one."

Kahlan cursed and sat down on the bed, defeated for a moment. The wheels in her head never stopped spinning, there was something inside Kahlan that always looked for a way out. She rarely gave herself time for self pity when there was a problem to be solved.

"Perhaps it's Edyl, but that would be too easy. And we don't have the time to go around and persuade every single guard, we've already wasted a day and a half in here," Kahlan said aloud, holding either side of her face as she thought. "If we simply barge into the dungeon we could be killed, and then who knows what will happen to Shota and the others."

Cara sighed and backed herself up against the wall. "You're acting just like Richard. Trying to save everyone all the time. You know it's impossible to fix this broken world."

"Cara—"

"And what of this decade of disaster? How can we keep doing this for so long? How can" —Cara please don't work yourself— "and what about Jagang? He's going to slit our throats the second we get to Aydindril. He's not going to let us live, he doesn't care about—"

Kahlan waited for Cara to unwind and did not wrap her in an embrace or halt her words with empty affirmations. She sat down on the lower bunk bed of their cramped quarters and listened for a long time to the ebbs and flows of Cara's fears that she had felt the soft currents of for many quiet months. Cara was scared of the lack of control. Cara was scared of losing those she loved. Cara was scared of Rahl winning.

Above all else, Cara was scared of being lost. Of succumbing once again. And that made a tear roll down Kahlan's pained countenance, all heat and flame and the aching feeling that what had been done to Cara would never truly be undone. That the one she loved most in this world was complicated beyond what she would ever completely comprehend.

"Kahlan?" Cara said, suddenly having appeared beside Kahlan with a cautious hand on the Confessor's thigh. Kahlan was acutely aware, as was Cara, of the missing finger on her hand. The taken finger. The prize. "You've gone quiet."

All Kahlan could do to keep herself from bawling was hold Cara's battered hand and lift it to her soft, warm lips. She kissed it once, twice, three times, letting all of the self-pity and sorrow evaporate into the air. Kahlan held Cara's hand to her forehead, feeling the ferocious heat of Cara's hand fill her.

"I cannot undo what's been done to you. I cannot undo what's been done to this world. It breaks each time we fix it. What are we doing wrong?"

Cara sat there in thought, wondering what could possibly give either of them any relief. She came up empty. Instead, she simply pulled her leg over Kahlan's hips, straddled her, and pushed the Confessor onto the thin cot beneath her. Kahlan grasped at Cara's elbows and forearms like they were the only thing she could hold onto. Her chest felt tight and swollen all at the same time, she could barely think.

But then Kahlan remembered that place all the way across the world where they were happy. Those mornings with tea on the front porch, reading to Cara as they fell asleep, all those heated moments of discovering each other's bodies from either side of the great chasm between them.

Could that be so again?

"We can only be what we are, Kahlan. We can't do this forever. This worrying, this obsessing. We were not given a magic sword," Cara told her with eyes as bright as emeralds. "Do you believe me?"

Kahlan took a deep breath in and nodded.

"Good. That is all we can do. That is all we can do," Cara said gently, feeling her conviction fade with each passing moment. "So what do we do now?"

"I don't know, byrd. I don't know."

Cara sighed and laid beside Kahlan, letting the Confessor curl up against her. For a moment, there was peace.

"We have each other."

"We do. That is enough."

"That is enough. Kahlan?"

"Cara."

"Please help me out of this stupid thing before I explode."

They hadn't noticed themselves drifting into sleep, but they did wake abruptly to a banging on the door. With a sigh, Kahlan sat up and answered the call.

"The Margrave is requesting that… your pretty friend… come and entertain his guest."

Kahlan frowned. "There have been other people in the castle?"

Edyl nodded in confirmation. "The Margrave is not a patient man, and neither is his guest. She's waiting for you in the guest chambers. Tara's presence is requested immediately."

"Give me a moment, my breasts are not for your leering," Cara said to the guard who refused to turn around, snapping her fingers but making no move to cover herself. "Go on, if you don't I'll—"

"She'll be right with you," Kahlan said, then slammed the door shut. "We're running out of time. I don't want you to be coerced into being an actual prostitute."

"Are you saying I couldn't do it?" Cara asked in her dry, playful way, a hand on her hip. "Come on, stop dallying and help me get dressed. And wipe that look off your face. I am Mord-Sith, I have endured far worse. I need you to find a way to get a key and get all of us out of here."

Kahlan took a deep breath in, letting out all of her pain and worries with her exhaling breath. There was no other option but success. Her hands with a mind of their own began to rethread Cara's corset, wishing desperately that she were doing the opposite, and that they were in a grand bed in Aydindril, and they didn't have to worry about any of this.

—

Kahlan slid down the halls of Rothenburg Castle with a single dagger in her hand and another concealed in her boot. The daggers she had been given at just fourteen summers old, which had sliced her palms and wetted the blade so it would have an appetite forever. That, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was what had made her into a woman. The sort of woman who lived by her own code and protected those that she loved. Who would stop at nothing to save lives and uncover the truth. Made woman and called woman by her mouth and her mouth alone.

Kahlan almost cried out in shock as she tripped over something as she turned a corner. It was a foot, outstretched, and around the corner a prone form. Curious, Kahlan leaned down to discover that the guard was in fact dead. It was a bloodless scene, and no weapons or wounds of any kind were apparent on her body. There was no time to think, she had to take advantage of the opportunity. Saying a word of apology to the Spirits before she did, Kahlan quickly removed the helmet, leather tunic, and boots from the dead woman. Now affixed in the perfect disguise, Kahlan moved through the castle with ease until she found the great doors which led to the dungeon.

"Open up," Kahlan ordered, and she was surprised at the lack of resistance. It seemed that while the Margrave was away, his soldiers did not truly care what went on. Having a drunk for a boss made the job feel far less important.

The large doors, which Ask had referred to as the Gates of Misery, were nothing to scratch one's nose at. They were immense, and the guards only hauled them open wide enough for Kahlan to slide in sideways. Giving a nod of thanks, Kahlan proceeded. There were a few guards in the room to the left, and the main dungeon down the stairs. Kahlan made sure not to look at their eyes, only their feet, so as to count them but not to alert them that she was looking. She had to maintain the ruse that this was all mundane work that she had done thousands of times.

"Can you please give us something? Anything? We're all starving down here. I don't think that the Margrave would appreciate—"

"Ask, it's me," Kahlan smiled, pulling the helmet off her head to reveal her dark hair and kind, blue eyes. "I couldn't find a key anywhere, and they've taken Cara away from me. We need to get out of here."

"Kahlan Amnell," called a calm, familiar voice. Kahlan turned around to see Shota of Agaden Reach, hair unwashed with a starved, craving look about her. Nevertheless, she was alive. "I knew you'd come."

"We're getting you out of here. All of you," Kahlan said in a low voice as more prisoners came to the bars of their cell. She noticed Ellius, the woman who had saved her in Aydindril, and gave her a warm smile. "Whether you join our cause or not is of little concern to me. I only want you to be free from this place."

"Many a Mother Confessor has made similar promises to us," Ellius said gently, as if she wanted to be ignored. "How will you be different?"

Kahlan thought for a moment, her eyes going soft as her heart. These people yearned, as she, Cara, and Ask did, for a home. For a place where they would not be rounded up and slaughtered each time the Midlands changed hands.

"I have to be. I just have to. You don't have to believe me, but it would be in your best interest to follow me out of here," Kahlan said, to which the whole lot of magic dealers mumbled to each other through the bars, coming up with a plan. Most of them agreed.

"She will free us, I've seen it," Shota nodded, giving Kahlan a reassuring smile. "I just don't know how."

"There was a dead guard outside, there is something wrong here," Kahlan began, to which Ask smiled and shook their head. They stepped to the side to reveal a small hole in the wall which let moonlight into the cell. Kahlan moved closer, noting that the breach in the wall was no bigger than a coin.

"What is this?"

"Han is in your body, but magic is everywhere. In the trees, in the hills, and in the wind," Ellius told her gently, her wizened face warm and demanding of attention. "Ask has been sucking it into themselves and sliding."

"But I can't do it for long, it's not enough to get me far," Ask said with a shake of their head. "It's not enough to give to any of them, either."

"But it is something," Kahlan said, crossing her arms over her chest and pacing the floor. "Perhaps with my help and my weapons, we can steal something to unlock the doors."

"Going to each guard will take forever. They don't leave keys lying around here, I don't even think most of the guards have keys."

"Have you noticed which ones come around the most?"

The sorcerers thought for a moment, then an old, dark haired man spoke up. "The short, fat one. You'd know him if you saw him. He comes around the most, he's quite rude."

"That could be anyone," Kahlan said, frustrated once again. Ask's gray eyes sparked to life with an idea, and Kahlan cocked up an eyebrow in anticipation.

"I can give you the air, but you're going to… you know… Once I give it to you, hold it in your mouth, and then—"

"Then I can confess a guard to tell me where the other is," Kahlan said immediately. "Hurry, we don't have much time."

"I'll give you as much as I can, but—"

"Ask, just hurry up and kiss me. Cara is very close to actually having to—"

Ask took not a moment longer to run to the uneven crack in the wall and take a deep breath in. The magic in the wind was diluted, but Ask filled his lungs with it as much as he could. Holding it there he already felt the magic seeping into him which made the unexplainable weariness which had been oppressing him ever since he arrived in the castle alleviate for a brief moment. Kahlan and Ask scrambled to the bars of the cell, hastened by the vision in both their heads of Cara, alone in a room with a stranger and bared. Ask's lips pressed to Kahlan's and they breathed in until they felt all the air leave their lungs, and then a moment more before pulling away to cough and gasp at the effort.

Kahlan released her hold on the bars and ascended the stairs, worriedly searching for someone to confess before time ran out. She stopped herself at the top of the stairs, peering into the guard's quarters and, upon noticing that there were only three guards there, decided to take her chances now, while the magic was hot within her.

Kahlan took her dagger by the blade and hurled it directly into the largest guard's chest, dropping him to the floor before the others could notice her. He slammed down on the ground with a heavy thunk, scaring the guard who sat at the middle table enough to knock over his chair in fear.

"Who can get me a key to the cells?"

The two remaining guards looked at her. One seemed to want to stutter, but the other simply reached for the sword at her hip. Without a moment's hesitation, Kahlan took a running step forward, slicing the neck of the one guard while reaching out to grab the hand of the other.

In a moment, the guard was hers. Although it was a weak thunder it still cracked without sound. Her power came to her in a rolling rush, shaking her in a way she hadn't felt in days. It was not the absence of confession that had made her feel rotten, but the absence of her power entirely. That tight coil from which all of her magic and feeling of self had burrowed itself in had been unwound for many days, and now, for a brief moment, she had it again.

"Command me, Confessor," the woman said with the utmost devotion spilling from her lips.

"Who has the keys to the dungeon cells?"

"Markilys does, mistress."

"Take me to him."

—

Cara adjusted her corset for the hundredth time before knocking, in a terribly aggravated fashion, at the door. She thought to herself how she would get out of actually sleeping with whomever was on the opposite side of the door. Perhaps she would get them drunk, or slip away to relieve herself, or just find some way to strangle them to sleep. It was curious to Cara that it would be a woman, but she knew the tastes of hungry women. She remembered many gifts from Lord Rahl in the form of flesh.

The door opened, and on the other side was Dahlia with her beautiful, narrowed eyes and plump lips. For a moment, Cara forgot everything, and then she remembered it all. The rage lit up inside her like Dragon's Breath, and she could barely hear what Dahlia had to say.

"Cara? What are you doing here?"

Cara remained silent as Dahlia stared at her as if she were a phantom, waiting with her hand holding the door open. The anger of what had been done to Cara was unable to be harnessed in anything less than a strong punch across the left side of Dahlia's face. Like an honorable Mord-Sith she took it in stride, not even lifting a hand to her stinging cheek.

Dahlia knew she should grab hold of Cara and return the gesture but she did not possess the heart for it. It had been many months since she had broken Cara and a part of her yearned for that submissive yet vicious Cara; the Cara who belonged, who could hunger for violence freely, who knew her. It was a terrible thing to be unknown in a world like this, to feel invisible and as if the words she was speaking were in a language long dead. But this was Cara, her Cara, here again with her.

Yet that familiar hate filled her eyes. Cara loathed her with everything she was and would be. Cara knew at that moment that she could never return to what she had with Dahlia, not even for a second, and that's when her hands grabbed hold of the leather straps across Dahlia's chest and pushed her to the ground. In a blur of anger there were hands pummeling down on Dahlia's head and chest, fingers that craved to tear into her skin and pull blood from below the surface. It was all rage, pure and unwavering, it was all of the pain she had endured in the harshest months of her life. It was one thing to break a little girl, that much was uncomplicated. But to break a grown woman was a new sort of horror. The persistence which Dahlia had demonstrated was reason enough to never trust her again.

"Cara!" Dahlia cried out, grabbing hold of Cara's wrists before crashing her head against that of her assailant. Cara winced and struck Dahlia again, this time hard enough to draw blood from her nose. Dahlia groaned and wrapped her legs around Cara, then reached up to lock her head in her elbow. There was a great sound from beneath them that made the two Mord-Sith stop for just a moment. It was followed by the sound of running, urgent feet.

—

"Hurry Kahlan!" Ask screamed from inside his cell. An insidious, blue vapor had begun to pour in from grates high up in the walls of the dungeon the moment Kahlan had turned the key.

"The lock must be tripped with some kind of trap," Kahlan speculated, unlocking Ask and Shota's cage before hurrying to free the others. "We have to get out as quickly as we can. No stopping."

"And we have to get Cara," Ask said, waving his hands around him in a desperate attempt to dissipate the foul smelling gas that had quickly filled up the hall. Shota began to cough, and before she could speak the room was too foggy to see more than a foot in front of her. Ask felt a hand grasp his, and it was Kahlan's pull that dragged him from where the gas was most potent.

"Cover your mouth with your…" Kahlan began, coughing before she continued "shirt, don't breathe it in."

"It can't be that bad… it's not magical…"

"There are worse things in this world than magic, boy," Ellius wagered, her mouth covered with a scrap of purple cloth she had torn from her hair.

Kahlan hurried Ask up the stairs, trying to weave her way through confused guards. Obviously, this trap had never seen the light of day, as the guards simply stood there in puzzlement as the fog rolled up the stairs and into their quarters. Someone from behind screamed that they could no longer see, but there was not much Kahlan could do about that right now. She was dead set on getting Ask, Cara, and the sorcerers out of the castle.

They managed to scramble up to the main floor of the castle, still having no idea where Cara was. As luck would have it, Ask heard screaming and hurried toward the noise.

"CARA!" came a dangerous scream down the hallway, to which Cara was deaf from the anger welling up in her ears. She took Dahlia's hesitation as an opportunity to roll her over and grab for her throat.

"Cara!" came the sound again, and it was Kahlan. It was always Kahlan who brought her back to the surface. Her usually calm, blue eyes were now wild, jolting from Dahlia to Cara and back to try and piece together the situation that seemed straight out of a storybook.

"Finish her right now, or come with me," Kahlan said with conviction, unable to make the decision for Cara.

Cara hit Dahlia again and an awful scream clawed its way up Cara's throat from the pit of her belly.

"Cara! Come on!"

Cara huffed in frustration and leapt off Dahlia's prone form as she lay still, eyes open and head lifted to watch Cara leave the room with her long skirt trailing behind her in piles. As the prisoners ran down the hallway, the all powerful Shota included in the motley crew, Cara turned back to look at Dahlia.

"The next time I see you, I will kill you."

After the curse had been cast, Cara took Kahlan's outstretched hand and sprinted down the hallway, no longer concerned with the Confessor slowing her down but rather more interested now in keeping pace with the Confessor.

"What did you do?"

"We triggered a trap… when we unlocked the cells… and the entire dungeon filled with toxic gas…" Kahlan told her through labored breathing. "Come on, keep up."

"Ask?"

There was a great clamoring of steel weapons accidentally colliding with stone walls, a few dozen soldiers, Rothenburg and D'Haran alike, running after them. Cara squeezed Kahlan's hand and moved faster.

"Fine, he's fine."

Kahlan and Cara nearly leapt down the stairs which lead into the bottom of the stables. Their horses were gone, hopefully taken by Ask and the prisoners. Kahlan stopped running and coughed up a glob of green phlegm, holding her hands on either side of her middle and spitting onto the ground.

"We still need to get past the guard—"

There was a bright flash of light coming from the other side of the dark tunnel, Kahlan lifted her hand to shield her eyes.

"I think that's been taken care of," Cara said. "Come on."

"Wait," Kahlan said, stopping Cara with a pull of her arm. "Are you all right?"

"Dahlia is no match for my strength and cunning. She buckled under me as soon as I got my hands on her."

"I thought you said you would kill her the next time you saw her."

Cara sighed and tugged her corset up again. "She is a part of me, whether I like it or not. I do not think I will be the one to kill her. I do not think she deserves to die a Mord-Sith's death. Certainly not by my hand."

Kahlan nodded, reaching up to squeeze Cara's bicep in comfort. "The last thing you need is her blood on your hands. You were brought up together, and you made each other, but I don't think you need to unmake one another."

Cara and Kahlan exchanged no more words until they were back at the Imperial Order camp. The refugees they found on the road, Rayla among them, had taken up with the folk from Altur'Rang, sharing their resources and breaking bread together. They found Ask among them, Cara slapping him hard on the back. His eyes were bloodshot red, but besides that and a nasty cough he had remained largely unscathed from the encounter. Others were not so lucky, Ellius was knelt on the ground attempting to magically heal the wizard who had complained about his eyes, blood streaming from them like tears.

"Thank you, Mother Confessor," Shota said smoothly. "I would never imagine you would end up with the likes of Jagang, but these are war times indeed. Thank you for rescuing us. We heard word that there was a Mord-Sith coming to retrieve some of us for public execution in Aydindril."

Cara hissed through her teeth. "Dahlia."

"I know you have been in the dungeons for a long time, Shota, but we need your help," Kahlan said, and Shota nodded somberly.

"We will use any means necessary to take back this realm. The House of Rahl has long overstayed their welcome in the Midlands," Shota answered, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

"Cara! Cara!" cried a voice, followed by a bounding, red shape who threw herself into Cara's arms.

"Raina," Cara breathed, wrapping her arms around the small Mord-Sith. Looking up, she saw Zedd and Berdine threading through the crowd behind them. Zedd was perplexed by the presence of his old friend, Shota, who had thrown him into a Wizard's Web the last time they saw one another. Tensions, based on their lack of conversation, were still high.

"We have little time for merriment," Berdine interjected, standing beside Raina and crossing her arms over her chest. "Galea was lost many weeks ago, Aydindril has been long gone. There is word that Lord Rahl has not left Aydindril in some time. He is clearly planning something."

"One thing at a time, Berdine. First, we need to take count of our numbers. Then, we make a plan."

The sun had set as everyone settled around the fire, all ready and anxious to make war plans. Jagang sat with his legs crossed while wearing a skirt which barely covered the body part that he expected everyone desired to see. Raina and Ask had stayed behind to cook the rations into a meal, both completely disinterested in the dull but anxious conversation that was to be upon them. Kahlan had changed into her white Confessor's dress and sat across from Jagang. She tried desperately to avoid his eyes, yet knew that this was all part of the game. He wanted a tease, and to believe that she was for the taking. Kahlan knew the game yet had little idea of how to play it.

"Who would like to speak first?" Kahlan offered after the silence in the group went on for too long. It had not occurred to her that even Jagang saw her as the de facto leader of this rag-tag army.

"I will speak first," Berdine said, looking down at the fire instead of the prying eyes of all around her. "D'Hara's strength is their unity, their army is largely composed of D'Harans. Now they have absorbed Kelton, Tamarang, and Rothenburg Castle, however they have not entirely earned control of the city of Galea and her forces. Most of the Galean army was slaughtered outside the gates, but D'Haran and Keltish forces are still laying siege to the city. Galea was their key and she evades them."

"How? It's been weeks since you wrote to us that Galea had fallen," Kahlan asked, and Berdine looked up for a quick moment at the safe gaze.

"We have heard word from scouts that the battle is not over. Galea lost all of their war machines, at least those that we knew of, but the gates have not opened in weeks. There are rumors of secret tunnels throughout the city. Some are said to contain subterranean safehouses, others are said to lead out of the city and into the mountains."

Kahlan sighed. "So we could have allies, but they are nowhere to be found." Berdine nodded. "All right. We have a good number of Imperial Order soldiers to ruffle Rahl's feathers, but that won't be enough. They won't last long against the forces Rahl has amassed."

"Our soldiers can endure all," Jangang grumbled, to which Cara made a small sound of bemusement.

"Your soldiers have no understanding of magic. Lord Rahl has the most nefarious sorts of magic right at his fingertips," Cara told him, bringing her intense, green eyes to meet his. Jagang looked back to Kahlan in order to avoid the Mord-Sith's challenge.

"That is so, but my soldiers are still strong. This is inarguable."

"You're right, Emperor," Kahlan nodded. "But we need a better plan. We can't just charge Aydindril, it's a many-tiered city built into a mountain. We have to be cunning, or else this will truly be a last stand."

The group around the fire was quiet, all of the participants of the war-meeting suddenly burdened with the thought of failure.

"If D'Hara has unity, we must have diversity," Kahlan said slowly, looking to Berdine and Cara. "How many Mord-Sith do we have?"

"There were at least ten girls we found on our way back. Including Rayla and we three, that's fourteen."

"That's small enough for what we need," Kahlan began, which made Cara raise an eyebrow in curiosity. "What if we sent the Mord-Sith to King's Row to assassinate the leaders? Surely Rahl would be keeping them there, especially if he has been operating out of Aydindril and rewarding those who come to his aid."

"That would be an easy task for us. It is done," Cara said confidently, crossing her arms over her chest. "We should go the evening prior, unsettle them a bit."

"But with an army this size it would be impossible to hide us all," Berdine challenged. "Aydindril can be seen for miles on all sides, they'll be able to catch us a day's ride out from the city."

"Not if you're magically hidden," Zedd interjected. "Now that we have so many wizards and sorcerers, I know of a particularly practical spell to cast around the army while the Mord-Sith do what needs to be done. Once the captains are killed, we can release the spell and loose the Imperial Order on Aydindril."

"The only thing left is how to kill Rahl," Berdine said, to which everyone grew quiet again.

"Cara, Ask, and I will take care of that," Kahlan said, to which Cara looked up quizzically. "He didn't wish to be here for the talks, but we both know that having a Slide with us will be crucial to defeating Rahl. We don't have the Sword of Truth, his soul is immune to confession, and his body does not buckle under the pain of the agiel. We need all the help we can muster."

Cara clenched her fist and nodded. An awful feeling that a dark path was before them set to run rampant in her mind. This darkness closed in on the fire, a vignette of things to come.

"This is our last stand. We must do this for all who have suffered under D'Haran rule. We must do this for the Mord-Sith, and for the Midlands and Westland," Kahlan said in a tone bleaker than ever before.

"We must do this for Richard Cypher," Cara added, a proclamation which made Zedd shed a small tear. Berdine rubbed a gentle hand on his back as he wiped his cheek with the sleeve of his robe.

"For Richard," Kahlan said, his name weighing on her heart heavier than ever before.