Prepare yourself. This story has reached it's final hour.
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
"Dulce et Decorum Est" - Wilfred Owen
Chapter 12
The Old Lie
It was just as it was what seemed like a thousand years ago. The familiar, low hum of the agiel. The silence of well-broken leather. The fingers held up in the absence of words. The few Mord-Sith who had not gone into hiding nor had been captured by Rahl were working together under a common goal, but it was so different this time. It was for all of them, those who had died and those who were still under Rahl's control. Needlessly, senselessly, Cara's thoughts crawled back to Dahlia. What torture would await her when she failed Rahl? Did Cara have the heart to save the woman who had ruined her life once again?
Raina bolted up to grab a slender woman while Cara buried her sword into her belly. They needed no words, not now, and not then either. It was instinctual to kill like this, as in a pack of wolves. Even Berdine who rarely showed up to the battlefield had her role—for all the reading she did into the small, dark hours of the morning, she had unmatched eyesight and a skilled attention to detail, all excellent scouting abilities. Once Raina had dragged the body into an empty room and gently shut the door, Berdine looked forward and held three fingers up. It was time to move on.
They had entered the city easily enough, posing as exactly what they were, or perhaps were not: Mord-Sith, here with information for Lord Rahl. Cara was a little more difficult to explain as no longer wore her leathers. However, the advantage to a city that had been under siege for well over a year was that there was always something that the usurper had missed, some breach in the wall that was just big enough for Cara to shimmy herself through, and hopefully it would be the perfect size for each of them to escape through unseen.
Berdine set her jaw as they approached the quarters of Prince Fyren, the man largely responsible for ringing the Midland's death knell. He was the one who had destroyed the beautiful Galea, and who more importantly had sold out the Southern Midlands, who had long held firm to defy even Aydindril's power. Never had they succumbed to the will of D'Hara, not until him. Killing him would show Rahl exactly what their intentions were, and further it would disrupt the D'Haran chain of command. This troubling of ranks accompanied with the swift attack from the Imperial Order that was to be set into motion that following morning would hopefully wound the army enough to stop it, at least for a moment.
Berdine gave the signal, telling the others to wait while she and Raina went inside. They slipped in together, wordlessly, knowing exactly which role to take. They had long hunted together, long been in each other's bed, long known the movements of the other. It was easy to take Fyren by the shoulders and thrust him to the ground as he wore nothing but his small clothes and a light, flowing tunic.
"Who are— Mord-Sith?" he realized as fear gripped him. Raina took out her agiel and held it against his belly, letting it scream and scream as Berdine covered his mouth with her gloved hand. The scent of worn leather filled his nose as he tried to bite her hand.
Cara peeked around the corner as she heard their prey struggling. Berdine and Raina liked to play with their food, and who was she to deny them such pleasures? King's Row lay on an empty street near the Confessor's Palace, which meant that although they were being stealthy, at any time there could be a guard that would see a dozen Mord-Sith all lined up, blood splatters on their chins and rage deep in their eyes.
There was the growing light of a torch around the corner as Cara dove back to safety. Still hearing the sure signs of struggle from within Fyren's quarters, Cara clasped her hands together and blew a steady stream of air through the opening between her thumbs. Opening and closing her top hand made what could have been a whistle sound just like a small bird calling for its mate. Raina rolled her eyes, and looked at Fyren as Berdine unsheathed the sword that was propped up beside his bed. She handed it, unceremoniously, to Raina's open, waiting hand.
"For the Old D'Hara," Raina muttered, then took Fyren's own sword and slit his throat. They left him for dead with blood spilling from the new opening in his throat, a stream pouring over rocks.
"We live… through… blood…" Fyren croaked, trying to hold a hand weakly to his throat.
"And you'll die through blood, Prince," Berdine said, leaving Fyren to his long, slow goodbye.
They had lingered too long, for the guards were upon them once they exited Fyren's chambers, but Cara was already tearing her way through a few of them. The Mord-Sith descended quickly, unleashing their quiet anger on the D'Haran guards. It was a bloodless scene, they wanted to leave little trace of their time here, that was all part of the fun. Rayla ducked as a guard ran towards her, letting him trip over her back before Cara firmly kicked him square in the head. Teeth knocked out, blood splattered across the marble, and Rayla groaned.
"We were supposed to be careful, Cara," Rayla chided.
"It's a pity, then. I was never good at following rules."
They returned to an empty camp in the deep, dark hours of the night bloodsoaked and battle ravenous. Berdine and Raina could not keep their hands off each other, groping each other's backsides and teasing Cara too. Cara smiled, rare like a gemstone, as Berdine kissed her on her crimson smeared cheek. Looking around, Cara could not find signs of life anywhere. No campfires, no movement, just the sprawling city of domed tents which she had called home for the last few months.
"Where is everyone?" asked Berdine. "They've all gone."
"They're right here," Cara challenged, motioning to one of the tents near them. "They've set up camp while we were gone."
"One of those guards must have unscrewed your head, Cara. This is an empty field, Kahlan must have moved them."
"Berdine, now is not the time—"
"Cara, in here," said a voice as a tent flap fluttered. Berdine and the girls almost cried out in surprise, baffled by Ask's disembodied head poking out of thin air. "Come on, everyone in a tent."
A few more tents opened up to reveal folk inside, and with the utmost skepticism the Mord-Sith stood in a line with their arms stubbornly crossed over their chests.
"What are you all doing in there?" she asked, bending down to meet Ask's eyes, but instead of answering they pulled Cara inside by the belt.
"Tell the other girls to get inside a tent," Kahlan ordered, but Cara was unrelenting in her line of questioning.
"Aren't you interested in—"
"Now, Cara."
Shaken by Kahlan's unshakeable demands, Cara stuck her head out of the tent.
"Kahlan wants you to go inside the tents," Cara relayed in a genuinely confused tone.
Berdine smirked and pulled Raina along. "I hope there is an empty one for us."
Cara rolled her eyes and slipped back into the tent. "Why are we huddling in these tents like cowards? We should be whetting swords and tightening armor. And why can't they see them?"
"Myself and the other magic wielders have spelled the tents," Zedd began, sitting with legs crossed on the opposite side of the tent. "It only works if you stay inside, but to the common passerby we are completely invisible. It seems we've found another needle's eye which your multiplicative magic threads through, Cara. This magic does not work on you."
"We're staying hidden until the perfect time. They will have no idea we're all on the plains of Aydindril, waiting to attack," Kahlan said, a look of hope in her eyes. The same hope that had once made Cara want to exhale in irritation of the ridiculous notion now infected her completely. Still buzzing with excitement by the assassinations, she wished she were alone with Kahlan and Ask in the tent. But such things would have to wait until later.
"So… we're just meant to wait here?" Cara scoffed, and Ask nodded.
"She's in charge," they said, and Cara smirked.
"For now. I'll rest, then, until we're ready for true war."
"Did you succeed, Cara?" Ask inquired, which made Kahlan let out an unexpected chuckle.
"Of course she did. She wouldn't be able to sleep if she hadn't."
—
"What do you mean they're all dead?"
Rahl slammed the Seeker's hand down on the table in front of him. It had been a long time since Richard had made a decision for this body, but Darken's hands and face still did not feel like his own. It was him, but not him at the same time. He supposed that once he had time to rest he could change that, or find a new body, something Egremont insisted he had certain leads on. For now, during these turbulent times, he would have to be content with this facade.
"I don't know what to say, Lord Rahl," Dahlia told him, on one knee in front of the tyrant. "All of the captains at King's Row have been killed."
"What manner of enemy did this? My scouts have scoured the area, no one has come in or out in the last week that I did not know about."
"That… is not the truth, Lord Rahl," Dahlia said quietly. To her surprise there was no swift hand across her face, so she continued. "I spoke to one of the guards at the gate. Apparently there was a team of Mord-Sith who came through the gates late last night. The inner circle was not informed of this until I approached them."
"They will be summarily executed for their incompetence," Rahl ordered, to which Dahlia did not care to rebut. It was true, they had one job and were now responsible for this chaos. "No matter, we have their armies at our disposal. We must begin to mend those relationships now, and find out who these Mord-Sith are working for."
"They were true Mord-Sith, my Lord," Dahlia informed him. "There were agiel wounds on several of them, blade wounds on others. Judging by the skill of the attack, I am certain it was led by Mord-Sith."
"Mord-Sith who knew of the layout of Aydindril. Perhaps ones at the beck and call of the Mother Confessor," Rahl muttered. "That means that the Mother Confessor is not far behind. Did we capture any of them?"
"Unfortunately not, my lord."
"We have no time to dispense consequences. We have to think a step ahead… but what are they planning?"
Dahlia bit her bottom lip, knowing better not to interrupt Darken Rahl when he was ruminating. His sharp, brown eyes flitted down towards her and he lifted his chin.
"Tell me, Dahlia."
"There is magic afoot here, Lord Rahl. I can sense it. This, in addition to the breach in Rothenburg and the release of the prisoners… it stinks of magic and war," Dahlia told him. What she had kept from him, and planned to try her best not to betray, was Cara's presence at Rothenburg. Cara was the lesser of two evils and truthfully the only person she would follow to the Underworld and back. The bruises and cuts under her leathers were not only from her scuffle with Cara, but from the man who assured her that she was his Right Hand. The more he used her, the less useful she felt. The only thing left was that she was Mord-Sith, one of the few survivors of a ruthless era in D'Haran history. Her sisterhood was her birthright, and that was not something she would break the faith of again.
Darken Rahl clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the window which looked out upon Aydindril Field. Nothing, not even a field mouse, stirred there.
"It does stink, Dahlia. We will find the dead rat. I have a plan, and I will entrust only you and Egremont with it. Listen closely."
—
"Let me help you," Cara murmured as Kahlan idly fiddled with the ties of her corset. Against Cara's wishes, Kahlan had insisted on wearing her pure white, Mother Confessor's dress. It was the only thing she saw herself wearing on a day such as was ahead of them, even if Cara thought it would make her the easiest target in all the Three Territories.
Kahlan nodded wordlessly as Cara gently tied up the front of her dress. She watched as Cara's face turned from irritated to serene with the focus of the task, her expert fingers making quick work of the task that was before her.
"Do you ever wish we were ordinary people, Cara?" Kahlan asked. They were alone now, even if for only a moment, and Kahlan would say this to no one but her.
"No," Cara said without a second thought. "We would not be ourselves without the suffering, the weight, the magic. Do you?"
"I would like to be, but I don't think it would suit me," Kahlan murmured, feeling a jolt of pleasure run through her as Cara's knuckles slid over her breast as she tied. "I am much too caught up in saving the world to stop now."
"We would have little to do. I don't know of any hobbies I would be interested in taking up."
Kahlan smirked, knowing exactly which goblets of wine to spill around Cara. "Poetry?"
Cara slid her hand under Kahlan's dress, pressing her fingers between her legs, between two, soft thighs. Kahlan hummed gently, watching Cara with apt attention, knowing that giving Cara too much response would spoil the game.
"I'd rather wear a corset and be called a princess than become a poet," Cara murmured in rejoinder. She squeezed Kahlan's thigh so that she might open them and allow Cara entrance to that soft, wet, heated place she always wanted to explore. Cara could eat of Kahlan for a thousand years and would still come up starving, ravenous, and craving more. More, more, more. Nothing was ever enough. Some would call it spoiled, Cara called it love.
Kahlan let out a small moan of pleasure as Cara's fingers gently glided over the wet spot on her pants, unable to help herself any longer she took a fistful of Cara's hair and yanked her head back so they were looking directly into each other's eyes.
"What is it that you need, Kahlan?" asked Cara, an unexpected patience rolling off her tongue.
"Take me away from everything," replied Kahlan, twisting her hand into Cara's hair like it was the only thing holding her to the earth.
Cara took no heed in slipping Kahlan's pants off and searching in between Kahlan's folds for that familiar warmth and stickiness. However, there was none, even when Kahlan's chest was already beginning to heave. Cara tried to ignore it, instead she leaned forward and took Kahlan's clit between her lips, sucking and sucking until she felt Kahlan lay on her back and heard her exhale in relief.
"Tell me what I should take you away from," Cara murmured, her lips disappointingly not coated in Kahlan's wetness.
"I don't want to talk about that right now," Kahlan said, misunderstanding Cara's angle.
Cara thought for a moment, then gently stroked Kahlan's sensitive bud with her thumb. Back and forth, back and forth, until she got a small rise out of the Confessor. A little jolt, a little smile, a little flush of red in her pale cheeks.
"Where do you wish to be, then? If we could step into a portal and go anywhere, tell me of the place."
"You know what I always say, it's the same as you."
"I know, igos suun. Tell me the words. Tell me again."
Cara felt the wetness rush through Kahlan, down into the place where she long desired to press herself into. Closer, closer, closer to Kahlan, the nearer to her the better life was. Cara let her lips part with the effort as she watched and listened to Kahlan spell out the perfect ending for their journey, a place to live in, where everyone shared and no one stole. A place for them all to be. She spoke of Berdine, Raina, Ask, Zedd, and even Richard.
Fingers dug, curled, stretched. Lips parted, pressed. Teeth grazed and bit. Whispers laid in ears and on skin. No tumult, no precipice, just presence. Just feeling, sensation, no destination.
When at last the heat between them had settled, Cara finished the ties and secured a hidden knot at the top, tucking it behind Kahlan's dress before sliding her hands down to hold the Confessor's waist on either side. "If you follow yourself down all of the roads that you passed but never traveled, you will always be living in regret. It is better to keep your eyes on the path that lies ahead."
"That sounds… like sound advice, Cara," Kahlan said, completely taken aback. Cara smiled.
"I sound quite smart now that I'm reading, don't I?"
"Almost like a poet."
"I could always kill you, you know."
The flap of the old, yellowed tent opened to reveal Ask, their face covered in blue warpaint. They hurried inside the tent so as not to be seen by wandering, D'Haran eyes.
"What is on your face?" Cara asked incredulously, as if it was horse dung smeared on their forehead. Ask smirked, their gray eyes illuminated even at the worst of times.
"Old D'Hara. All the girls are wearing it," Ask said. "We're doing it for Ilsa and the others. It's what's right."
"I'm getting tired of doing what is right," Cara mumbled, but she could not deny the odd, crinkly feeling deep in her stomach that reminded her of Ilsa's death. They could not be called close but Ilsa had forgiven her, and that was something that was forbidden from Mord-Sith. Ilsa did not deserve to die how she did, no matter how holy it may have seemed. It only seemed right, then, to let Ask press their fingers into the small pot of fresh paint and draw two, vertical lines down either one of Cara's cheeks.
"What does it mean?" Kahlan asked, and Cara closed her eyes.
"Haalis," Cara said in a low voice, full of reverence. "Sisterhood."
—
It was long into the evening when Kahlan, Cara, and Ask snuck through the hole in the wall and into the many-tiered city of Aydindril. Although slightly more lively and with significantly less bodies, this was not the Aydindril that any of them expected. It was draped in red banners, teeming with D'Haran soldiers, and fitted with all of the pomp and circumstance that Darken Rahl loved.
The soldiers, completely unaware of the Old World horrors which awaited them in invisible tents, were unprepared for battle. They gathered merrily around campfires up and down the street, not bothering to stop or look for suspicious goings on. They certainly did not expect the hurried, quiet feet of the Mother Confessor just within their reach. With Cara's sharp eyes they made quick work of rising up to the second tier of the city, where the richer folk were meant to reside. There they found exactly what Ellius had told them about— a large signal bonfire, wood stacked perfectly in case of alarm.
"Now," Kahlan whispered, looking this way and that as Ask crept up the immense wood pile, lit a match, and dropped it down the hole in the top. It fell down without a word until it hit the wool stuffed near the bottom, and as Ask scrambled back down to safety the tower burst into flame. The trio scurried back into the cover of darkness as confused soldiers clustered around the lit signal fire, all tittering to each other and wondering who had lit it and to what end.
In the distance, on Aydindril Field near where the Deep Woods both began and ended, Jagang leapt out of his tent and onto his horse. The ruse abandoned, Shota and Zedd let down the spell they had been holding for most of the day. They dropped down beside each other with smiles and laughs like in the old days when the world felt new and clean.
"Zelk kartinbah!" Jangang roared, the delight of war making his teeth appear sharper. His Imperial Order men and women tore out of their tents now, and once emptied the tents shimmered back into common sight. They pulled themselves onto horses, readied their swords, and dug their heels and hooves into the dirt as they sprinted, screaming and howling, down Aydindril Field toward the city. The Mord-Sith who were allied with the Midlands followed them, agiels screaming in their hands, Berdine and Raina in the lead, the paint on their faces making them look both at once like Mord-Sith and Gal'Garan.
"Now for the delicacies we were promised! Flesh, blood, war, and gold!" Jangang bellowed like a boar, and the soldiers he passed whistled and cried out in reverence.
The Imperial Order tore through the city's gates, leaving nothing but crumpled bodies in their wake. They tore open the door to the city and poured in, taking the life of any D'Haran they saw. They knew that the only bodies they were not meant to destroy was that of Darken Rahl, their allies, or any Mord-Sith. Jagang had attempted to quarrel with Cara on the last, ridiculous request, but he did not want to taste the terrors that glowed in her eyes if he crossed her. There was time for treachery yet, but it was not this hour.
Slower now that they had disrupted the peacefulness of the D'Haran soldiers, the trio crept up to King's Row, now empty and splattered with blood. Ask made a face as they tried to avoid stepping into the poorly cleaned stains on the road beneath them. Kahlan looked back and smirked just a bit, despite the circumstances. Just like Cara, Ask was always themselves no matter the stakes.
"We must be ready for anything," Cara said quietly, crouching as she addressed them both.
Kahlan nodded. "And we will stick together. Cara?"
"What? I'm listening."
"Agree with me."
"You know I—"
"We will stick together," Kahlan said firmly, reaching out to squeeze Cara's hand. The Mord-Sith sighed and nodded in agreement. "Good. Let's not waste Jagang's time. It sounds like he has arrived," Kahlan noted as the screams of terror and the hoof-falls of well-bred horses sounded less and less distant.
They filed into an empty palace atrium, followed by bare room after bare room. Usually buzzing with activity, Darken Rahl seemed to have bled the Confessor's Palace dry of any actual nobility.
"He's getting messy," Cara said quietly, even though there was little to no sign that anyone was around to hear them. "He knows there's little space to run anymore, and he's slipping up. There should be Dragon Corp posted here."
"Perhaps they're busy defending the city?" Ask reasoned, sliding with their back against the wall as they cautiously checked each room for bodies.
"Darken Rahl is a careful man. Either he's gone mad, or he wants us to be here. He thinks he'll best us," Cara murmured, her mind reaching to idle, concerning places.
"Before we assess his mental capacities, we need to find him," Kahlan reminded them. "The throne room seems too easy, and yet…"
There was the familiar creak of leather in the next room. Cara stopped Kahlan behind her with an outstretched hand. Fear, for the first time in her life, rippled through her unabashed. Something was coming, she could feel it in her bones all gooey and wet.
Cara took a deep breath and turned the corner to meet eyes with the woman she had cursed not long ago. The woman who had undone her, who had made her, and who had broken her faith. Dahlia stood there, agiel in hand, as if she had been waiting for Cara since time began.
"It will always be you, won't it?" Cara said, her voice low and even. Dahlia smiled, her catlike eyes roaming up and down Cara's form, stopping at the gleaming, gold circle pinned to the shoulder of her tunic.
"So it seems. Cara."
"Dahlia."
Before she could stop herself, Kahlan moved forward and in an instant she had her hand around Dahlia's throat. Shocked by the lunacy of trying to confess a Mord-Sith with an agiel in her hand, both Dahlia and Cara froze.
"I should confess you for all the wrongs you have done to Cara. I should kill you in the most painful way for all the things you've done to hurt her, " Kahlan said in a voice as clear as a ringing bell. Dahlia saw no mere woman behind Kahlan's eyes, that was all gone away now, the rage had dried and shriveled Kahlan's compassion. Who stood before her was the Mother Confessor along with all the Mother Confessor's long dead. A line of women who sought the truth and expected nothing less than righteous justice.
It would be so easy to lift the constricted coil in her belly and set loose her power unto Dahlia. To watch her crumple to the floor in what would likely be the most heinous but delicious agony she had ever felt. To feel as though she had protected Cara from all the pain and suffering in the world. Cara, for all of her anger and hatred toward Dahlia, did not lift a finger to stop Kahlan.
"Then why won't you?" Dahlia asked, Kahlan's skin still untouched by her agiel, disappointedly so. Dahlia's clear, blue eyes searched Kahlan's stone cold face for answers. "Confess me. Kill me. Mother Confessor."
Kahlan let the rage boil over and evaporate. She let it roil through her stomach and up through her throat. And then she made a choice of what was right rather than what was pleasurable.
"It's not my rage you should answer to. It's Cara's," Kahlan said, and she dropped her hand from Dahlia's throat even though every fiber of her being screamed for retribution. Kahlan spoke no more words to Dahlia, instead she walked past Cara and stopped right before her.
"We will find Darken Rahl. You deal with Dahlia. You have marked her," Kahlan told her somberly, her eyes softening as she watched Cara's stiffen.
"Give me my agiel, Kahlan," Cara said in a voice that shook with months of suffering. Kahlan was taken aback.
"Cara."
"Give me my agiel, Kahlan. I know you packed it," Cara hissed, piercing Kahlan with hungry eyes. Kahlan had never been afraid of Cara, but something in her emerald green gaze shook the Confessor to her core. "I need it. Please."
Kahlan nodded, reached into her pack, and found purchase on the agiel which she had carefully wrapped in silk. Unsheathing it as if it were the Sword of Truth, Kahlan handed it to Cara, where it lay in the Mord-Sith's hand screaming and rattling. Cara sucked in a breath as the jarring yet delicious pain of the agiel came back to her all at once.
"You decide your destiny now, Cara. You decide the woman you will become," Kahlan said softly, cupping Cara's chin in her hand. She stared at her for a moment, then pressed a long kiss to her lips as if it would be the last taste of Cara she ever got. They both knew, however and somehow, that this would not be goodbye. "I will love her either way."
In an instant, as soon as Kahlan's hand left her, Cara lunged toward Dahlia. She heard herself scream as she knocked the Mord-Sith down to the ground and began to dig her agiel into Dahlia's gut. Kahlan hurried Ask out of the room before she thought better to stop Cara. She did not wish to hear those screams of rage ever again, they brought her back to the rain soaked night where everything she knew about Cara fell to pieces.
"You ruined me!" Cara screeched, hatred hot on her breath as she released the agiel's touch.
"I had no choice… I loved you. I still love you, Cara. I still love you, igos suun," Dahlia protested, tightening her core and swiftly coming up to knock her head into Cara's. Blood dripped down both their foreheads, but neither seemed concerned. "I never meant to hurt your soul."
"Is this where my soul was?" Cara cried, digging both her good finger and the stump Dahlia had left into Dahlia's open, protesting mouth, hooking her like a fish as Cara dug the agiel into her side once again. "Is this how you treat me? Igos suun, my heart, igos suun, my everything?" mocked Cara, cut with the pieces of her broken heart.
Dahlia knew now that she had no words to stop Cara from her present, evil purpose. She had unleashed within Cara a rage that was older than time, older than the first Mord-Sith. But Dahlia still had a will to live. She bit down on Cara's good finger, letting the blonde grunt once in pain as she failed to relent. Dahlia bit down harder, drawing blood now. She let the coppery taste of Cara's blood slip down her throat, remembering what it tasted like when Cara was hers.
"Get up," Cara said, yanking her hand from Dahlia's red mouth and quickly rising to her feet. "Get up, fight me like a Mord-Sith."
"You are no Mord-Sith, not anymore," Dahlia hissed, her lips red with Cara's blood. She tightened her braid before bending down to retrieve her fallen agiel.
Cara smiled a cruel, pained smile. "Perhaps it is for the best that I have changed. Perhaps it is time for me to learn who Cara could have been."
Dahlia scoffed. "Who Cara could have been? Without me, without us, without him? You would have been an idiot. You would have married a dull farm boy and died in childbirth. Together we had everything. We had love, we cherished each other, we protected each other. We can protect each other again, Cara… please. I don't want to kill you, I love you."
Cara simply stared and gripped her agiel in her hand, letting it hum to her secrets of revenge. "You killed me even though I loved you."
"I… I know what I've done. But you know that I had no choice."
There was a silence between them that seemed to last a lifetime.
"We all have choices to make, Dahlia. But yours was unforgivable."
"I know, Cara. We could have been something, you know. We could have been better."
"Yes," Cara nodded. "But we're animals, you and I."
They both howled with all the heartache they could muster as they clashed in the center of the room, agiel screaming against agiel, both hungry for blood. Dahlia kicked Cara's leg out from under her and in an instant was straddling her prone form. She returned the favor from before, this time pressing the tip of her agiel into Cara's temple. There was a flash of blinding pain, Cara's vision momentarily taken from her, before Dahlia relented, instead letting her agiel find purchase in Cara's belly.
"Go on!" Cara roared. "Give me a scar to be proud of. Bleed me dry. End me! Show me what your love tastes like, Dahlia! Show me!"
Dahlia screamed back wordlessly, striking Cara across the face with a flat hand over and over. A small stream of blood leaked from Cara's lip, her face red and showing the signs of a bruise to come. It was hard to think clearly anymore, but the pain was a welcome friend. Warm and knowing, it swept her up and took her in its arms. But Cara knew this was not her end; she was much too angry to die here. She drove her agiel into Dahlia's belly and let it rattle her bones, then struck the bottom of her chin with the end of the thin, red rod. Dahlia fell backwards, hitting her head hard on the stone floor.
Battered and confused, Cara struggled but managed to rise to stand over Dahlia as she lay there in agony. There were so many ways she could end her miserable, treacherous life. In this other world that she had inhabited for many years, it had been a struggle to select a mode of torture that had not already bored her. In that world, she had loved Dahlia. She had sought comfort in burrowed fingers and wet places, in forbidden glances and warm leathers. Even within the drawn blood and stolen fingers there was love.
And yet, Cara did not need such painful love anymore. She knew that Dahlia had broken her trust, broken her spirit, and she could not return to such a place with all her new honor. The house they had built as scared little girls had burned down long ago. They had both lit the matches.
"Go on, Cara. Kill me. Kill me in the holiest of fashions, now that you are no longer Mord-Sith. I deserve to die by your agiel," Dahlia said roughly, like she was giving Cara permission to do the thing she so craved.
But Cara was no longer a Mord-Sith. She was Cara. She was the woman who Kahlan Amnell loved, who she had seen the very best in. Cara who had fought for a world that spat at her feet. Who had learned to love in the deepest and kindest of ways. A tear welled up in Cara's eyes, and the same tear melted down Dahlia's cheek.
"I am not the beast who loved you, I am the woman that will leave you here with your shame," Cara said, her eyes boring deep into Dahlia's. "I have no need to end a Mord-Sith who has betrayed her own kind. You have already killed your honor. I do not need to kill you, for I have cursed you already. I will not undo you, you do not deserve the honor of my agiel."
Cara dropped her agiel, stuck her fingers in her mouth, and bent down to Dahlia. The Mord-Sith closed her eyes as Cara dragged bloodsoaked fingers down her cheeks, making two, vertical lines.
No more words would be shared between them ever again. The die had been cast. As she turned the corner out of Dahlia's sight, Cara covered her sobbing mouth with a hand. There would be no more tears, not for Dahlia. All she wanted now was to be with her friends, with Berdine and Raina, with Ask, and with Kahlan. Shaking herself free of the quenched anger she had harbored for many long years, Cara set off in search of her compasses.
—
The room was awash with magic, flames of blue ate up the red velvet banners that hung upon the walls. It was Richard, standing there, but it was not Richard. Kahlan wondered if Richard even existed anymore.
"Darken Rahl," Kahlan called out, daggers in either hand. "This ends here. Give up the Seeker's body, give up his sword, and we will spare you."
Darken Rahl laughed hideously, but it was Richard's kind, boyish laugh instead. "Spare me? And where will I go, wise Mother Confessor? There is nowhere but this body. And I quite like being the Seeker."
"You can't say I didn't give you a chance," Kahlan told him. "Now, Ask."
In an instant, Ask was liquid. They dropped to the floor and rolled quickly up Rahl's boot and seeped into his pores. The tyrant cried out in confusion, trying to hit Ask as they absorbed into his system. His eyes rolled back into his head as his body hit the floor, Kahlan rushing to him to press a dagger to his throat.
"I hope this works," she murmured to no one but herself.
Within a plane beyond comprehension, lost to the blood of Slides, stood Ask and Darken Rahl. In the corner was the form Ask had come to know as the real Richard Cypher, naked and crouched. Magic swirled all around them, in the air like Ellius had said, but this was no time for wonder and awe.
"Where are we?" Ask inquired, and Darken Rahl laughed.
"A shared consciousness. This is a feat not completed in over three thousand years," Darken Rahl drawled, a tinge of excitement in his voice. "You truly are a Slide. I thought it was a rumor. A peasant… thing… capable of such wonders? What a coincidence. And what a shame that I will have to kill you."
Ask nearly failed to dodge the bolt of lighting sent his way from the tips of Rahl's fingers. Richard, suddenly brought back to life, stood up quickly and looked back and forth between Ask and Rahl.
"Richard, come with me," Ask called out as Rahl began to close the distance between them. "Come with me and help me fight him!"
"I can't," Richard said with a quaking voice. "I don't know how. I don't know how to use my magic, I don't have my sword… I don't know how."
"You're the Seeker of Truth!" Ask cried as he leapt over another bolt. "You're the first War Wizard in hundreds of years! You have a destiny!"
"The one bonded with the blade will invoke a decade of disaster," Richard murmured, but all whispers could be heard in this forgotten realm. "That is my destiny. I have overstayed my welcome as Seeker of Truth. I have failed."
You haven't failed, Richard!
Richard's eyes lifted to the sky, looking this way and that in a frantic search for the source.
"Kahlan?"
You haven't failed, Richard! Come back to us. To me, to Cara, to Zedd. Don't let him win.
"What lovely, empty words," Rahl laughed. "You were so easy to press under my thumb. You'll never see the light of day again, Richard Cypher. You're too weak."
"Don't listen to him, Richard," Ask shouted. "Take my hand, we can leave. I can find you another body, I swear. We have to kill him! Do it for Kahlan, for Cara, for this world."
Richard had hot, wet tears in his eyes. He wanted so badly to believe Ask, but the weight of failure laid heavy on his shoulders.
"I…" Richard muttered. Ask shook their head and reached out their hand to Richard. They were both so close to him yet miles away, distance was spongy and wriggling in this world. "Kahlan doesn't love me anymore. What do I have to go back to? A world which requires more than I can give? I failed at the Pillars, and I have failed now. There's no point."
"Richard!" Ask screamed. "Please!"
Darken Rahl turned to Richard with a smirk low on his face. "Your usefulness has ended, Seeker. It's a pity you'll be remembered this way, but I don't write the histories. I simply inspire them."
Rahl clapped his hands together and sent forth a whirlwind of Wizard's fire, all blue flame and malice. Ask raised their arms to shield their face as they ran toward Richard. The world went dark, sucked into itself and left only with the absence of light.
Ask was lying on the stone floor of the Confessor's Palace. Kahlan had no time to cry out as she slid down onto her knees to shake his broken form. Their neck and face were full of flamed scars, coiled and worn beyond repair. No air quaked or rattled from weakened lungs. Kahlan shook and shook their shoulders but nothing came forth. No funny quip, no sparkling glance. Nothing was left, all was spent.
On the other side of the room, Richard's body gasped back to life. Immediately shaken, Kahlan prepared herself for a fight even as tears came down her face in rivers. She watched angrily as Richard's eyes found hers, all soft and brown and full of regret.
"Richard?"
"I killed him. I killed him while they distracted him. They saved my life, Kahlan," Richard said, all of his memories flooding back to him. "I failed, Kahlan. I failed. I'm so sorry—"
"Hush, it's all right," Kahlan said as she gathered Richard up in her arms. His head cradled against her breast as they wept together. Seeker and Confessor, reunited at last. No longer lovers, but no longer enemies. "It's all right. It's all right, Richard. You're back. You're safe."
"Ask?" came a shaking voice from the hall. "No, not Ask… not them…"
Kahlan turned to find a tear-stricken Cara, as if in a terrible nightmare. Her clothes and skin were torn, old and new blood decorating her along with her Gal'Garan warpaint. Her eyes were wild, staring only at Ask's broken form.
"They saved Richard. They saved the Midlands."
Cara had no more words as she slowly walked over to their body, feelings she had never known welling up inside her. She rolled them over, hissing at the sight of their burned body, and laid a hand over their chest.
"I knew you would not die old and toothless in bed," Cara said quietly, so quietly that Kahlan could not hear. She did not need to hear, these words were meant only for them. "You died like a hero, Ask. I hope you find your home, somewhere on the Creator's Meadow."
"Cara… we need to go," Kahlan mumbled through tears, picking Cara up by her armpit and hauling her up onto her feet. "We need to get out of here before we're caught unawares."
"Berdine and Raina," Cara nodded. "We need to find the girls."
"We will. Come on," Kahlan told her, looping an arm around Richard's waist as he dragged the Sword of Truth along with them. Cara bent down to gingerly pick up precious cargo before she followed the Seeker and Confessor out of the palace. Nothing felt real.
The way back to the wood was a blur. The Imperial Order soldiers made a mess of Aydindril that night. Jagang was nowhere to be found, but they heard his hideous, bellowing laughter all around them. Kahlan hoped that he would leave Aydindril eventually once he had gotten his fill of war and flesh, but the three of them were smart enough to know this was only the beginning of this horrible decade brought on by the desecration of the Boundaries and the destruction of the Stone of Tears.
They returned to a teary-eyed Raina, wringing her hands outside of a tent. Cara laid down Ask's body before rushing towards her.
"Berdi?"
"She—she—"
Cara slapped Raina across the face. A harsh move, but one that brought her out of her panic.
"Alive. But hurt, badly. Ellius is healing her."
"Hurt is good, it means she is alive," Cara rattled off, letting Raina dive into her embrace.
"Our agiels haven't stopped… is he…"
"He's dead, Raina. Hush-hush. It's all over. Hush-hush."
—
The dawn crept quietly over the hills, soaking the world in beautiful orange light. Kahlan came out onto the porch of the mountain home to find Cara there, busy with a large book nestled in her lap. There were more pages behind her than there were ahead. Smiling gently, Kahlan sank down to sit beside her.
"What are you doing?" she asked as she rubbed Cara's back. The blonde did not meet her eyes, too busy with the task ahead.
"I'm almost done," Cara told her. "It was their favorite book, they wanted me to read it, but I was too stubborn."
"What's it about?" Kahlan asked. She had not seen Cara with this book, so it occurred to her that Cara had been reading it all night. Cara huffed in frustration.
"You love to bother me when I'm in the middle of reading, don't you? You know how long it takes me—"
"You're right, I'm sorry. Go on. I'll wait," Kahlan chuckled, carding her fingers through Cara's blonde hair.
"Could I get some help here?" called a voice from over the hill. Kahlan looked up to see Richard struggling to carry a tall stack of freshly-chopped wood for the fire. "I can't believe I have to do this all on my own with three Mord-Sith around."
"You told us we weren't at your behest anymore, Lord Rahl," Cara drawled dryly, looking up in slight bemusement as Richard dropped a piece of wood. "It's your fault for letting us have our own desires too soon."
"I'm a terrible Lord Rahl, but I didn't need you to remind me of it," Richard smirked, slowly stepping up and over Cara and Kahlan as they both ducked under his legs. Kahlan reached out to squeeze his calf in an attempt to destabilize him, but to no avail. He was a woodsguide through and through, feet caught in deeper and more treacherous snake holes to be thwarted by the hands of the Mother Confessor.
"Hurry up with that wood, Lord Rahl," Raina chided, crouching by the large fire pit in the center of the house.
"I'm not your Lord Rahl," Richard protested, but Raina seemed not to listen.
"Until our agiels stop screaming, you are the Lord Rahl, Lord Rahl," Raina doubled down. "Berdi, the matches?"
Trying not to jostle her broken leg too much, Berdine reached over and handed Raina the box of matches. Raina took them with a kiss to the cheek as her reward, looking at Berdine as if they had met for the very first time. It always felt like the first time, like falling in love, with Berdine.
"Perfect. We'll have breakfast in about an hour."
"An hour?" Zedd moaned as he came down the steps. "Well, that's more than enough time for a wizard lesson or two. Come, my boy."
"But I just—"
"Wizards don't have time to mope around, Richard. We need you good and ready for the next fight ahead of us," Zedd warned, a tinge of the First Order in his voice. Richard nodded.
"Some things never change," Kahlan smiled, tearing her eyes away from the scene in the house to find Cara staring at her. "What?"
"I love you, Kahlan Amnell. I love you."
Kahlan grinned with all of the light in the world, even with the darkness of new and old threats slowly creeping in around them. There would be time for that, though. After this time just for them.
"I see you, Cara," Kahlan told her softly, wrapping her hands around Cara's head and pulling her in for a long, gentle, yearning kiss. Full of love, full of life, full of the future.
It's over, now. It's finished. Two and a half years of writing this, a long journey indeed. This was the easiest chapter to write, it had been living in my head for the longest time. Although I never want Kahlan and Cara to end, this story had to conclude eventually.
I hope you've enjoyed it, or at least found it nostalgic. I know it's a rather verbose series, but even after 15 years of Legend of the Seeker I just want more, I can't shake it. Thank you to everyone who has stuck around for this story, and to new readers who happen upon this in the future. Thank you to Jobii for being my ardent and adamant beta reader through this last leg of the journey.