In the end, finding nourishment seemed to be the best thing to do. Having changed into the clothes Celeste had given him, his body had finally stopped shivering, the clean linen soft and comfortable against his skin. He found his way into the homey kitchen, helping himself to the pot of soup simmering over the hearth. He was hungrier then he realized, having spooned two bowls of the broth into his empty stomach. Across the room, Leo watched him, curious, but still skeptical. Now warm and well fed after days of nothing but small game, Richard was content, or at least his body alluded to it. The exhaustion from the battle eventually won over his anxious thoughts and he began to doze, soothed by the crackle of the fire. Even half-conscious, he could hear a door creak open from upstairs. His eyes snapped open and he bounded from the kitchen table, up the stairs in a flash. Celeste stopped him before he crossed the threshold.
"It doesn't look good," she told him bluntly. "The sword she was struck with was poisoned, filled with dark magic. I've never seen such aggressive venom. It burns like fire, destroying any chance her body has of fighting back. It's…it's killing her."
Richard took a step back, not sure he had heard correctly.
"That's not possible. Confessors, they're-"
"They're just as human as you or I," she finished. "The poison actually relishes her powers, draining her of it until she has nothing left…not even the power to keep herself alive."
Richard forced himself to take steady breaths, but all he could manage were shallow gasps. She was dying? How could this be possible?
"There has to be something you can do," he pleaded. He had lost so much, and Kahlan was the last person he had left, the one he would do anything to save.
"I'm an herbalist, not a wizard," she said hopelessly. "I can do my best, but I cannot undo the damage that's already been done. It's in the spirits' hands now."
As Celeste turned back down the hall, Richard tentatively eased the door open, afraid of what he might see. Nothing had changed much, except that Kahlan was under the heap of blankets, her green dress draped over the chair by the fire. As he edged closer, he saw the sheen of sweat on her brow, the way her eyelids fluttered restlessly. She still breathed, but the movement was shallow and uneven. He took the chair closest to the bed, taking her cold hand in his. She stirred, her body fighting for consciousness despite the exhaustion that plagued her.
"Richard…" she breathed, struggling to find his face in the gloom.
He squeezed her hand in reassurance. "I'm here, Kahlan. I'm right here."
The sound of his voice seemed to resurrect her, for her eyes opened, her vision finally clearing.
"So, tell me," she sighed. "How bad does it look?"
He was quick to give her a confident smile, forcing himself to not let his fear show.
"Celeste, she's good at what she does," he said quickly. "She says you're going to be fi-"
The intent look she gave him stopped him short.
"Don't lie to me, Richard," she warned. "Weak as I am, I still know when something's being kept from me."
Richard hung his head with a defeated sigh. He knew better. Even if she wasn't a Confessor, they'd traveled far too long together to keep secrets. Even Zedd had known it, having revealed his true identity with his dying breath. He was Richard's grandfather, someone who had known the father Richard never knew.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "She told me…that you'd been poisoned, that the sword had some kind of dark magic on it. She said it's powerful that…" The words stuck in his throat and he had to force them out. " She said it's likely to kill you before the end of the night."
He kept his gaze locked to the floor, unwilling to meet her eyes. He was a practical man, having lived in a world of black and white. Now he had been thrust into the unknown, every familiar thing being ripped from him in an instant. The very mention of sorcery scared him, and he was staring it in the face, watching helplessly as it destroyed the only person he ever truly loved.
"It's going to be ok, Richard."
His head snapped up, shocked that she was reassuring him. She gave a gentle smile, giving his hand a light squeeze.
"Whatever happens, you're the only one who can stop Darken Rahl. You have to. So many people are depending on you."
Richard shook his head violently. "I can't do it alone," he said, desperate to get his point across. "I want-no, I need you by my side. I've lost so many people, people I care about. I'm not about to lose you too."
She grimaced, recalling her own losses. Her beautiful sister, the innocent people of her village, and most recently, the first and only wizard she ever considered a true friend. She had no need to force the truth from Richard; he was declaring this from his heart, perhaps feeling like she was running out of time. As if summoned by her thoughts, a wave of fire began its cycle through her body; a groan escaped her pale lips.
Richard hovered anxiously above her, helpless.
"What's happening? What's wrong?"
Kahlan struggled to open her eyes, the sudden shot of pain squinting them shut.
"The poison," she hissed through clenched teeth. "It's getting stronger. I feel the fire burning me, but there's nothing I can do to quench it."
She suddenly grasped the blankets, her breathing becoming staggered. Her back arched, a yell of pain ripping from her lungs. Frantic, Richard tried to soothe her, caressing her forehead, her arms, her face; anything to ease her suffering.
"Kahlan, Kahlan look at me. You're fine. It's going to be ok. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."
A few more moments of agony passed, then, thankfully, the pain began to fade, the waves of flames receding ever so slowly. Exhausted by the effort, her body went limp, beads of sweat glittering in the firelight. Richard leaned in close, grabbing her hand once more. With his other hand, he caressed her face, moving back and forth in rhythmic strokes. There was little else he could do. Her breathing came in gasps, trying to keep up with her fluttering heartbeat. Finally she sank into unconsciousness, her strength completely spent. Richard straightened slowly, shock and hopelessness etched on his face. He could feel the heat that radiated from her; no doubt a mere shadow of what was now coursing through her veins. He was standing on the edge of oblivion, and there was little he could do to keep from falling.
