Below…
Darken Rahl was writhing in an abyss of bodies. He had failed the Keeper once again, or so the Keeper thought. The flames which licked his naked body gained strength from nothing, and while he knew the pain was spiritual, it didn't make it hurt any less. Darken howled as the flames ate away at his skin, dancing as if it were fun.
"WHY HAVE YOU NOT BROUGHT ME THE MOTHER CONFESSOR? WHY IS HER BODY NO LONGER AT MY FEET?" The Keeper screamed, somehow speaking in a whisper, right over Darken's shoulder.
"The Mord-Sith is stronger than I thought," Darken shuddered, mustering the will to speak. He knew that the Keeper hated when his subjects spoke out of pain, especially when delivering crucial information. Darken Rahl used to be the right hand of the Keeper, but it was clear to him now that no deals would be made between them. The Keeper had used him, and now this was his eternal fate. "She has formed a more powerful bond with the Mother Confessor than I had imagined. I thought the Mother Confessor would kill her first."
"YOUR STUPIDITY AND LACK OF INSIGHT, DARKEN RAHL, IS THE REASON YOU ARE HERE. IT IS THE REASON I HAVE NOT YET WON," The Keeper spat, his voice echoing off the endless cliffs of the Underworld.
"Yes, Master… but the Seeker. He is still alive," Darken Rahl coughed. The scent of his own skin burning was unbearable. "He still has a part to play in this. I have planted someone to kill the Mother Confessor just as the sun hits the top of the sky. It will work, and you will have your kingdom above at long last, my Lord."
The Keeper smiled, and the wet sound of his ethereal lips parting made Darken Rahl's stomach churn.
Above…
Richard watched Kahlan from across the campfire, her dark hair framing her face as it danced in the fickle light of the flames. It was good to be home, only a few feet from Kahlan instead of a few hundred miles. His time studying at the Palace of the Prophets felt like a dream now. All that mattered was getting the Stone to the Pillars of Creation, sealing the rifts to the Underworld, and making a home with Kahlan. Even though they could not touch for long, simply being with her was satisfying to Richard. She was the kindest person he had ever known, and Kahlan Amnell is not the kind of woman you hurry away from.
"What are you thinking about?" Richard asked, and Kahlan looked over at him.
"All I can think about is tomorrow. What lies ahead," Kahlan told him, raking a hand through her long tresses. "I am trying to hope for the best, but it's been so hard to think positively. It's been day after day of fighting, of getting hurt, it doesn't end."
"It will end. Soon. And then we can go to Aydindril," Richard smiled. He was always an optimist. Thinking about Aydindril filled Kahlan with dread.
"I haven't been in so many years. I wonder what's changed," Kahlan told him. "What will you do about Merri and Bron?"
"They're both well trained wizards, I would hope that they'd come back with us," Richard said, and Kahlan smiled sadly.
"The reason why they were at the Palace of the Prophets is to be trained as court wizards. They'll likely be assigned as a wizard to another province," Kahlan told him, and Richard turned his head to Merri and Bron's sleeping forms. They were lying beside each other, Bron's back facing him, Merri likely in front of him. "Kelton, Tamarang, likely even Nicobarese. They would make excellent court wizards, and they would be treated well."
"They can't decide their own fates?" Richard asked, looking back to Kahlan with worry. "What's the point of it, then?"
"Think about it, Richard. I am the Mother Confessor, I serve the people of the Midlands. Cara is a Mord-Sith, she serves the House of Rahl. You are the Seeker, you serve the Sword of Truth. Any kind of magic in this world, unless you are brave enough to face everything on your own, is meant to serve a greater purpose. Our gifts have never been our own."
Richard nodded. "There has to be something we can do. I don't want them to be apart, after all they've been through."
Kahlan watched him closely. His heart, it was always so big. Kahlan stood up and came to sit next to him, combing her hand through his hair. Richard laid his head on her shoulder. It felt safe to be here with Richard. His hand held hers as the desert night stars shone brightly.
Cara rustled and woke behind them, unused to sleeping in something more comfortable than skin-tight leathers. It was a wonder how she had gotten so used to them. She pushed herself up from the sand and pulled her short, blonde hair into a ponytail.
"You can rest, Richard. I'm up now," Cara told him, taking a seat on the opposite side of the campfire. Richard looked comfortable leaning on Kahlan, but his eyes were drooping down.
"You're right, you're right. I'll rest now. We have a long day tomorrow," Richard conceded, giving Kahlan a slow kiss before getting up and going to rest where Cara had just laid. Cara waited until Richard fell asleep to sit beside Kahlan.
"I have feelings for you both," Kahlan said after a long moment of silence. Cara looked over at Kahlan and nodded. "Is that selfish?"
"I don't know. I am an incredibly selfish person," Cara told her, pursing her lips. "I don't think we meant to grow close, if that makes you feel at ease. I think he will understand that."
Kahlan let out a deep breath. "I know. But he asked me to take him to Aydindril, and something about it feels off. I don't know why. I love him."
Cara tilted her head upwards to the sky. "I can't answer that for you, Kahlan. All I know is that there is something between us, and it is unlike anything I've ever had. And I won't apologize for it, and I won't compromise."
Kahlan smiled and squeezed the back of Cara's neck, her hand moving down to press against her back. It was hard, muscled, and tense with the potential energy of combat. Cara didn't stop herself from leaning in and pressing her lips against Kahlan's. Their bodies seemed to crash together every time they met, unable to stop themselves from what they truly wanted to do. She could feel the tight coil of her Confessor's magic let loose just the tiniest bit. Cara pulled Kahlan into her lap and held her there as they kissed, and in that moment nothing else mattered. All they wanted was to be entwined with each other. But it wasn't long before Kahlan pushed her hands on Cara's chest, willing her to stop.
"I wish we could," Cara breathed, her lips puffy. "I want to so badly."
"I'd much rather have you alive, Cara," Kahlan smiled, and Cara couldn't help but laugh. Merri stirred on her bedroll, and the two women stopped for a moment.
"Do you smell that?" Cara frowned, and Kahlan raised an eyebrow.
"We haven't been able to bathe in a while, Cara. You don't smell of fresh flowers either."
"No, it's not that. It smells like… death," Cara finished, and Kahlan immediately stood up. But there was nothing around them, no hordes of banelings on the horizon, or even crawling over the rocks around them. It was just the night, and a hooting owl in the distance.
"Maybe it's all the stress," Kahlan offered, but Cara was too busy walking around the camp, smelling. Bron stirred with a frown, his eyebrow raised at Cara.
"Do you smell that, boy?" Cara inquired, to which Bron nodded. The scent was so strong that he knew what she was talking about before he could ask. Before Cara could come closer to him, Merri stood up, cloak drawn about her in response to the cold, night air.
"I'm going for a walk," Merri announced to the group. Bron rose to meet her, but she shook her head, the two exchanging silent words. "I'll be back."
"A walk? It's the dead of night," Kahlan frowned. "There's nothing around for miles."
"I want to investigate the ruins, see if there are any magical traps," Merri told her. Something in her voice felt off to Kahlan.
"In the dead of night?" Cara echoed, pursing her lips. If she wouldn't get choked by ancient magic, she would have gone with the young sorceress.
"I don't have to answer to either of you, I do as I please. Trust me or not, I'm going," Merri hissed, and hurried into the sand dunes towards the Pillars. Bron was left standing there on the other side of the fire, rubbing the back of his neck with worry.
"Something isn't right," Kahlan frowned, shaking her head. "But I don't know what."
It took Kahlan a long time to fall asleep, even with Cara standing safely by.
The morning hours came quickly, Kahlan had fallen asleep with half her face in the sand. Cara bit back a chuckle as she watched the Confessor paw at her face to take the fine grains off her face and out of her hair. Kahlan caught Cara watching and gave her a good-natured scowl.
"The Mother Confessor rises," Cara said flatly, her arms crossed over her chest. The early sun hit her aquamarine eyes so perfectly that they glowed.
"From a crypt, it seems," Kahlan added, dusting the sand off her white dress and standing up slowly. In an instant, their present purpose came back to her like a flash of light— they were mere hours away from concluding a quest which let the fate of the world hang in the balance. If Panis and Zedd's calculations were correct, it was now or never. "Where is Merri?"
Cara shrugged indifferently. "She seemed insistent on leaving for wherever it was she had to be. I don't know what urgent dealings she had in an old desert, but who am I to understand the whims of a wizard? They are purposefully confounding."
"Merri is missing?" Richard asked, getting up from a deep sleep rather quickly. "When did she leave?"
"A few hours ago. She didn't want to listen, so I let her go," Cara told him, to which Richard sighed in frustration. "She seems to know what she's doing, and perhaps it's safer for her to be away from us, with the Stone of Tears so close."
"That doesn't make me feel much better, but you're right," Richard nodded, running a hand through his dark hair. "I don't want to leave her, but we need to put the Stone in the Pillars before we do anything. She's a 3,000 year old wizard, she will be fine on her own."
Kahlan and Cara were not sure how to begin to ask questions, so they both looked at each other, then filed the information away. "All right… we should get going, then," Kahlan nodded, reaching down to rouse a sleepy Bron. The boy, who now she was unsure was even a boy, looked up at her with dark, brown eyes and nodded in understanding. The team packed their things, save for Cara. Kahlan watched as the Mord-Sith paced back and forth, testing how far she could go past the boundary.
"Cara," Kahlan began, pulling Cara back by the arm. "I want you to check on Zedd. I know you want to be here, but I'm worried about him."
"You too?" Cara questioned, her eyes locked onto Kahlan's in a battle of wills. "You know I can't leave either of you. And I have the worst bedside manner."
"I know. But I need you to go. What are you even going to do here? Pace around nervously until Richard and I come back?" Kahlan said. "Zedd could be in danger, he can't even move right now. Richard and I will be fine."
Cara scowled and bit her lip as she thought. She knew it was the right thing to go back to Zedd, but she hated doing anything out of obligation. Cara wanted to be with Kahlan, and that raw need obscured her good judgment and weighed down her heart. What a heart-leaden animal she had become.
"Okay, I'm going," Cara nodded. Kahlan rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "But I am running there, checking on Zedd, and I won't be long. I'll be back before you know it."
"There will be time enough when the world is healed," Kahlan smiled, wanting desperately to hold Cara, but she knew Richard was close behind them. Cara nodded wordlessly and walked back to the campfire, the heat of anger coming off her. Richard watched in confusion as Cara swept up her pack and slung it over her shoulder.
"Cara, where—"
"She sent me away."
The hot sun on the sand warped Cara's agile form as she disappeared over the dunes towards Caillian. Kahlan watched until she saw Cara disappear, then got to pouring water over the embers left from last night's fire. They sizzled and hissed as they died, the smoke quickly dissipating, allowing for the group to go virtually unnoticed. After having traveled with Cara for months, it was peculiar to have her gone. Kahlan hadn't liked sending her away, but she had no choice— this was the most ethical choice. But now she had this hole in her body that couldn't be filled by anything but Cara. The woman whom she should have despised. Whom she had despised for some time.
"Let's get moving," Richard coaxed, his hand resting on Kahlan's elbow. "We still have some ground to cover, and I'd like to be early for the healing of the world."
Meanwhile…
Shota had the great wizard, First of his Order, Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander right where she had intended for him to be. It was she who had casted the Wizard's Web, it was she that had held him back from being of any assistance to his friends. By the time the Web would wear off, which for a wizard of Zedd's make wouldn't be much longer, the sun would have passed its crucial point in the sky, and the Seeker and Confessor would be dead. The Mord-Sith too, if she were lucky.
"Shota… the fate of the world hangs in the balance. You are better than this," Zedd pleaded, only his mouth free from the Web. "Why are you doing this?"
"We all have our parts to play, Zeddicus," Shota told him coolly. "You refused to heed my warning, you ignored the prophecy. I can't allow you to help the Seeker bring a decade of darkness. If you won't kill him, it's up to me to balance the powers."
"You can't kill him— Richard is the first true Seeker in the last thousand years… he has a destiny."
"The loss will be greater if he creates even more troubles for our land," Shota challenged. She approached Zedd, her witch hair long and tossed down her back. Women who were powerful had long hair such as hers. They were almost always dangerous women. "Imagine even a year without war, Zeddicus. Without D'Haran tyranny. Without enemies. Where the world doesn't hang by a single thread. Can you remember the last time these things were true?" Zedd stared at her. He was upset, but Shota spoke the truth.
"It can't come at the expense of killing Richard Cypher. You know of the other prophecies. Decade of darkness could mean anything. There aren't any true soothsayers to tell us otherwise. You've mistaken the truth before," Zedd said coldly.
"Not this time. It came to me violently, unlike any other vision I've had. It ripped me apart… I believe it was from the Creator herself."
"There hasn't been a true-prophecy in decades."
"There hasn't been a tear in the veil to the Underworld. Don't you think it's possible that she would speak to us now, to avoid the end of days?"
Zedd didn't have an answer. Not like he had a choice anyhow. It was taking all his energy to dissolve the Wizard's Web.
"It's… quiet, for a market day," Shota frowned. No bards could be heard, no children collecting water in red clay vessels. "I'll be gone for just a moment. Don't move," she smiled.
Cara could only see death in Caillian. What was once a bustling, desert village was littered with dead bodies. The smell of rotting flesh would have made a weaker woman retch, but Mord-Sith were made of stronger stuff. Cara merely held her breath and slid down the last sand dune between herself and the town square.
Cara stepped on and over the upturned and gutted bodies of those who had spit on the ground in front of her a day ago. The merchant that had harassed her at the stand was keeled over his jewelry, the circular cloak pin she had wanted was mere inches from his slit throat. The cut appeared to be from someone not adept with weapons, the red slit was jagged and difficult looking. It would have been a small knife too, perhaps something used to carve the skin off an apple.
Before she could hear Kahlan's voice in her head warning her otherwise, Cara snatched the pin and put it on her shirt. It felt as though she had won. A symbol of her own.
"What happened here?" Cara asked herself in disbelief. She did not see many more cuts, instead most of the bodies were bruised, as if someone had beat them senseless. Was this the work of bandits? As they crossed the desert, it was hard to avoid the whispers of the Broadheads, a merciless group of outlaws who traveled from village to village and stole what they could before escaping into the sand. It was said that they had tools to hide in the sand until long after the people gave up their search for the culprits. But this did not feel like the work of bandits, this was a massacre.
It was then that Cara saw movement, a long, red haired woman. She looked as though she lived in the wilds, the way she slinked like a predator was concerning. In all, she did not look like a woman from this desert town.
"Who are you?" Cara called, the wind blowing her hair to the side.
"I would ask the same of you," Shota answered, moving closer still to the Mord-Sith. It occurred to Cara that she was slightly less threatening without her leathers, her twin agiels carefully tucked behind her hip. Little did "What business do you have here?"
"I'm looking for my friend. An old woman took him in," Cara answered, and Shota nodded.
"And you are a friend of the Seeker," Shota smiled. Cara raised an eyebrow. "I cannot let you pass."
Shota thrust her arms forward and arched a bolt of lighting right to Cara's heart. The Mord-Sith quickly reacted, ducking to the left just in time. The bolt seared the skin on her bicep but she was largely unharmed; the heat from the bolt instantly cauterized the wound. Cara whipped her head up and dove again as Shota hurled another streak of lighting toward her. This time, she held up a magical barrier between herself and the magic, dispelling the lighting in a cascade of sparks. Shota's eyes went wide, clearly not expecting a Mord-Sith in her midst. The sorceress dropped her hands in defeat.
"Where is Zedd?" Cara shouted, riled from the fight. "Tell me, or I'll gut you."
"You can't. You'll do more harm than good," Shota warned, her hands up in a cautious warning. "You must believe me. I've done him no harm."
"If you're here, then the barrier… disable it, now!" Cara yelled, running forward and grabbing Shota by the hair. She yanked her head back and shouted again. "Now!"
"What… what are you talking about? What barrier?" Shota struggled, trying to slap and grab at Cara's unbreakable grip.
"At the Pillars of Creation. Disarm it," Cara repeated.
"I don't know—" Cara deftly unsheathed her agiel and drove it into Shota's side. The sorceress howled in pain, shaking from the impact. "I don't know! I only— fuck— I only trapped Zeddicus!"
Cara dropped the sorceress and sighed, she was telling the truth. Shota coughed and spat in the dirt before she noticed how disgustingly close she was to a dead villager.
"Who killed all these people?" Cara asked, troubled once again by the sight. "You seem too weak to have done it."
"Funny, I am not weak to those who are not conniving Mord-Sith," Shota hissed, dusting herself off and slowly rising while she held her side. "My charms around my dwelling must have been strong enough to keep the chaos at bay. I am as surprised as you are."
"Take me to Zedd, now," Cara said once more, and this time Shota came willingly.
…
"What do you mean he's stuck like this?" Cara scowled, forcing her agiel into Shota's belly. "Fix him!"
"She can't, Cara. It's beyond her," Zedd reasoned with the Mord-Sith. "She placed a separate grace on the spell that locks it, even from her influence."
"This is exactly why I don't trust wizards," Cara said. "Nothing is as it seems."
In a huff of frustration, Cara pushed the door so it rocked against the side of the house and walked to the bloodsoaked town street. She sat on the stoop of the little house and put her head in her hands. This entire investigation-caper situation was entirely beneath her, she should be by the side of the Seeker and Confessor, protecting them. Cara was the one who had taken the helm of the compass. Cara was the one who had led them to the Stone. Cara was the one who had protected Kahlan, and cared for her, and this is what she gets? The auxiliary adventure?
Cara noticed movement on the horizon. It was nearing noon, close to when Richard would be putting the Stone of Tears somewhere in the ruins and healing the rifts in the veil. It looked like a swarm of birds, thousands of dots moving at a speed that would only be explained by flight. But they weren't birds. They stumbled and staggered but hurled themselves forward still.
"Banelings."
It was then that a body in front of her began to twitch back to life. A hand pushed up a body to its feet, awareness in their eyes where there was once a glassy, far off expression. Another body willed itself to life beyond that one, and another, and another, until about 20 of the once-dead townspeople. Cara slowly rose to her feet, steadied herself, and unleashed her agiels.