Water Under The Bridge, Chapter 6

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Richard was trying very hard not to be found. After a full day and half a night of walking, much more tiring on foot than it had been on horseback despite it being downhill, he'd finally made it back to the bridge. Only to find that now there was a whole legion of soldiers, half on each side of the wide wooden bridge. They're here looking for us. Maybe they haven't found her yet! Which did his heart a world of good, even if it didn't help him figure out what to do next.

He looked down at the river, which seemed only slightly calmer down here. He looked back upstream, and smiled. There was a log, much like the one he thought he'd seen Kahlan clinging to in the river, floating downstream. That'll do just fine, he thought, hoping the current wasn't as fast as it looked.

Richard made his way carefully down to the river, making certain the soldiers didn't see him. He slipped into the water, gasping at the cold and trying hard to hold his footing against the surprisingly strong current. That definitely rules out swimming across, he thought. By the time I got halfway across, I'd be under the bridge, and right in front of the D'Harans.

He swam the few yards out to the log, one hand holding the Sword of Truth to his side. The current was even stronger near the center of the wide river, grabbing at him as he swam, but he was able to reach the log. He settled in, one hand holding to the log, one leg curled around an underwater branch. The rest of him floated beneath it, only his face above water, shielded from sight by a branch. He watched the bank flow by swiftly, then, when he saw the bridge coming up, he let go of the log. The river swept him into the piling, hard, and Richard's breath went out of him with a whoosh, but he was able to grab hold. He scrambled up the piling and perched himself on one of the beams underneath the bridge, trying to regain his breath as quietly as possible. He waited to hear an alarm, but none sounded, and he settled in to wait for nightfall, shivering.

After dark, Richard climbed carefully across the underside of the bridge. It was hard to do silently, and more than once he had to stop and hold his breath—and his grip—while a soldier paced overhead. He finally made it across after what seemed like hours. Then more waiting while the soldiers on this side milled about. Having gotten across was one thing, but now he wasn't sure how to get away from the bridge without being heard or seen.

Then an opportunity presented itself. He heard a wagon roll up on the far side of the bridge, and the soldiers turned, some of them crossing the bridge. A guard on the far side of the bridge called to the wagon driver to halt. "What are you doing out this time of night?" he asked.

A woman's voice answered. "I'm Britta Moragon. I'm the local healer. I've been down to Farmer Alford's to look after his wife. She had a rough birth, and needed my assistance. Is there something wrong?"

"We're looking for a fugitive, Kahlan Amnell, an enemy of Lord Rahl. Have you seen anyone on the road?"

"No, no one," she said, sounding nervous.

"Keep your eyes open. If anyone in the village is found harboring the fugitive, the punishment for the entire village will be harsh."

"I understand, sir," the woman said, and the wagon moved forward across the bridge. Richard poked his head out from under the bridge, and saw there were no soldiers on his side. He slipped up the bank, keeping his head below the edge of the bridge, and as the wagon rolled past him, leaped forward and grabbed hold of the side as the wagon turned south toward the village of Waterford. He clung to the side, hoping the darkness was enough to obscure him, grateful the soldiers had a lantern. That would limit their vision in the darkness. And he was on the far side of the wagon from the bridge.

And Kahlan still hadn't been captured. He thought quickly as the wagon rolled forward toward the village. He was clearly going to need help, but didn't know who to trust. But the spirits seemed to have guided him to his best bet—Britta Moragon. As a healer, she could move through the village without arousing suspicion, and if Kahlan was hurt… How could she not have been, the way that river was moving? It was bad enough down here. Richard ignored the sinking feeling in his chest and concentrated on the approaching village. He couldn't risk staying where he was as they rolled through, so he leaped off as they came alongside a small shed. He rolled to a stop, and watched after the wagon as it rolled through the dimly lit center of the village and came to a stop a few doors past the town center. He watched Britta climb down from the seat, and then stop, looking across at the house on the other side. She took a few steps toward it, and waited, clearly listening to something. She turned a moment later, and quickly crossed the street again and made her way inside.

Richard slipped quietly through the village, moving from shadow to shadow till he reached the house she'd entered. He circled around to the back, hoping there was a rear entrance. There was. He debated a moment, worried there might be others inside, then finally rose and tried the door.

It opened, and he stepped into the softly lit interior. He could hear muffled noises coming from the next room. He stepped forward, stealthily, and then came face-to-face with Britta as she stepped through the door. She gasped, stepping back.

"Shhhh!" he said, holding his hands up to show he was no threat. "Please, I need your help. You're a healer, right?" She nodded, clearly frightened out of her wits. She wasn't a particularly attractive woman, with a sharp nose and narrow, downturned lips that gave her an expression of annoyance, but her height and her dark hair reminded him painfully of Kahlan. And it didn't help that she was wearing white. "Please," he said again, "I'm looking for someone. She may have needed a healer."

She looked shrewdly at him, her fear subsiding somewhat. "Kahlan Amnell?"

Richard swallowed, hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake. "Yes. She was caught in a flood and swept downstream. I'm hoping she made it to this village. Have you seen her?"

"The soldiers are looking for her," she said, and she seemed to be calculating.

"I know," he said. "I know it's a risk for you to help me, but please, I need to find her. Please."

She looked away from him for a moment, and seemed to come to a conclusion. "I haven't seen her," she said, and Richard's heart sank, "but I may know someone who has."

Richard's face lit up. "You do? Who? Where?" he said, his voice rising.

"Hush!" Britta said, glancing behind her nervously. "I may have heard something," she said quietly.

"From the house across the street?" he said.

She looked nervous again. "You saw me," she said, clearly thinking that if he had, someone else might have. "You'll have to move quickly. The woman there is named Marlena. I heard her speaking to someone, but she lives alone."

Richard felt a wild hope. Could she be that close? "What kind of person is this Marlena?" he asked.

Britta wrinkled her nose in distaste, which made her even less attractive. "She dabbles in magic—fancies herself a descendant of wizards. Some of the villagers go to her for potions. As if she were a healer!" She caught herself, and started again. "She's no friend of Darken Rahl, if that's what you're asking. But no one here dares to report her, for fear of what she might do."

"Thank you," Richard said, and turned to go.

"If your friend is ill, bring her here," Britta said, suddenly all kindness. "I'll do what I can for her. Which is more than I can say for Marlena," she added, some of the bitterness returning to her tone.

Richard nodded, and slipped out the door.

Britta turned and walked quickly into the other room. "Roderick!" she said, shaking her husband awake. "Roderick! Wake up, you drunken sot!" She whacked him over the head. "You need to go get the soldiers. Tell them I know where Kahlan Amnell is. And the Seeker!"