XXVI. FLIGHT
They were surrounded. Never in her life could Kahlan remember feeling so trapped, so hopelessly lost. She stared into a ring of undead eyes, the hard, desperate faces of banelings staring back. She still carried her daggers in her boots, but she doubted she could reach them without toppling over, and her magic was still recovering from confessing the first baneling. The way she felt, a second confession so soon after the first would push her to the point of collapse.
Panic gripped her as she scanned the city, hoping desperately for a way out. She couldn't see much beyond the banelings nearest her, only the tops of more heads, the town square packed tight. Many were half-hidden in ragged cloaks, but others bared their gruesome patches of rotting flesh like trophies or badges of honor. And there was no room to move. Kahlan stood trapped in a sea of bodies, her heart pounding. All was silent; the banelings waited, watching her. Only her.
They no longer paid any heed to Richard or Zedd or Cara, or the fallen banelings at their feet. Even Richard had stopped moving and stood waiting, sword raised. She wondered what everyone was waiting for. And then she wondered why she wasn't already dead. Each breath she drew seemed to drag a thousand lifetimes. Kahlan forced herself to stand straighter, pulling the fear from her face and locking it up inside. The Mother Confessor never cowered. She raised her head to stare up at the platform full of red sisters and blood and more death, and it was then that the cold voiced sister spoke again, almost as if she'd been waiting for her, her voice slipping like ice deep inside to chill the marrow of her bones.
"So the Mother Confessor decides to come to us. How convenient." Though her face was veiled, Kahlan swore her lips curled in a cruel smile. It was odd to hear such a voice coming from a woman wearing the same dress that marked the sisters who'd raised her. It seemed horribly wrong, a mockery even, that these women wore the same clothes.
Kahlan said nothing, trying with all she had to call on the fury and power of the Con Dar. It didn't come. Even if it had, she knew in her heart it would have been little help. They had never been so unnumbered before. Her gaze flicked to Richard; he was working his way towards her through the tangle of banelings, his movements unnoticed because of the focus on her. If there was any hope of escape at all, it would come from him.
"She even brings friends with her," continued the sister with a laugh. "The Seeker of Truth himself. Or is it Lord Rahl, so close to D'Hara as we are?" she added mockingly, her gaze flitting straight to Richard. Kahlan's heart plummeted; his movements were not as unnoticed as she'd hoped. She went on, "The Keeper will be most pleased with what—" A dark blur whistled through the air and the sister stopped short, an arrow protruding from between her brows, a look of sudden shock glazed across her face.
Silence spread as her body pitched forward. Her veil fluttering in the breeze, she fell face first with a thud onto the platform, the arrow snapping beneath her. For a moment, there was absolute stillness, and then the whole city erupted in chaos. All around her, banelings were pulling weapons and whirling about, searching for whoever had fired the shot. Many began murdering their neighbors without the slightest sign of provocation. A Mord-Sith leapt up onto the platform, Agiel out, looking like a cat about to pounce, and the magic of the sisters ran like a vein through all the madness. The hairs on her arms stood on end as dacras flew through the air just above her head. Behind her, she could hear screaming and what she swore was the sound of horses' hooves, but she couldn't see.
She twisted around, hoping for a new opening of escape when an iron grip caught her arm and she was yanked forward, belly first against the foul smelling body of a baneling. He grinned at her, "Not so fast, Confessor. The Keeper has a use for you." Kahlan grit her teeth, preparing to release her restraint on her powers with a plea to the spirits that it did not drain her of her strength to the point of collapse. She felt so weak already. But before she could let loose her magic, the baneling fell in a spurt of red, and Richard at last stood before her, his sword stained every bit as red. His eyes locked with hers, and not only was there no time for words, in that moment, there was no need. The look they exchanged said more than enough.
He looped the arm not holding his sword around her, giving her his strength. "Stay close to me," he said even as he began to weave through the throng, pulling her cloak back around her to try and hide who she was. It had been months since she'd run, but she did then, her belly jostling, her twisted ankle crying out in protest with every desperate step. She could smell singed flesh burned by wizard's fire, and dacras flew wildly from the outstretched palms of countless sisters.
"What's happening?" Kahlan managed to choke out as they ran.
"D'Harans," said Richard, yanking her hard to the left and cleaving the way through a clump of banelings sword first. The blur of bodies began to make sense at his words. It was not banelings turning on their fellow banelings as it had first appeared, but D'Harans, their uniforms hidden by tattered cloaks and rags. Now and then she caught a flash of red tunics and black boiled leather beneath the cloaks, as the hard-eyed men who'd infiltrated the city alongside them killed baneling after baneling mercilessly. While the banelings were greater in number, it was clear that their skills in combat could not compare to those of trained D'Haran soldiers, and in several places, they were being overrun.
At that point, others were riding in from behind on horseback, trapping the banelings in their own village square. As Kahlan hurried along with Richard, she watched a man who'd been on foot vault effortlessly onto a riderless horse.
He was a huge man, broad shouldered and hulking, with long hair the color of straw hanging wild around his face. On his back was strapped a massive longbow, and she recognized it for the boast that it was. This man had been the one to take down the sister. As she stared, he yanked a knife from his belt and sent it hurtling with that same deadly precision to take down an advancing baneling. He threw back his head at the kill, roaring with triumph and delight. It would have been fascinating to watch if not for the knowledge that she might die at any moment, another baneling getting in close enough to rip the life from her womb and wear her daughter's skull as a talisman.
They tried to hurry past down a narrow street leading away from the square, but the man on horseback noticed them then, and turned his horse to charge right into their only path of escape.
"Lord Rahl!" he called in a rough voice. "Running away so soon, Lord Rahl?"
"Move," growled Richard through gritted teeth.
The wild haired D'Haran glowered at him. "A real D'Haran never backs down from a challenge." He spat on the ground, "I should kill you for sullying the name of D'Hara every time you draw breath."
"They why don't you?" said Richard as he readjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword, shifting his weight from foot to foot. She could tell he was searching for a way to get past without letting go of her to fight the man. Had he been alone, she knew he would already be past him. As it was, burdened by her, there was little he could do in the narrow passageway but stand and bargain.
"Because," said the man. "I vowed today to see every last one of the Keeper's whores dead. You will die another day, Richard Rahl." With that, he wheeled his horse around and charged back into the fray, leaving the path before them clear once more. Kahlan could feel the tension that had poured into Richard at the other man's words, but he wasted no breath on it. Taking a tighter hold of her, he led her on through the twisting city.
"What about Cara? And Zedd?" she gasped, trying to turn and look back over her shoulder for some sign that they followed. The whole world was a jumble, and she could not find them.
"Don't worry," he said as he urged her on, half carrying her over fallen bodies. "Zedd and Cara can take care of themselves. They'll follow." He slowed his pace only slightly and began scanning the city. "Horses," he said. "We need horses."
Through the madness and the clanging of steel on steel, the air sizzling with magic, they ran and ran until she thought she would drop and die there in the dust. And then they ran some more. Suddenly, Richard gave a shout and let go of her, vaulting swiftly over an overturned cart. His sword in his hand dripped blood, and he used it to cut free three frightened, tethered horses. Kahlan hurried to his side and leaned against him the briefest of moments, not even enough to catch her breath, and somehow, in that fleeting rest, caught sight of Zedd and Cara racing towards them.
Richard leapt up onto the horse, just as Zedd paused to send a rolling ball of Wizard's Fire into a cluster of banelings following after them. Cara was little more than a red blur, reaching them in time to grab Kahlan's legs as Richard leaned over in the saddle, taking hold beneath her arms.
Together, they helped her up so she sat sideways on the horse across Richard's lap. It was precarious at best, her belly making it impossible for her to sit pressed close against him. But they both knew without saying that it was the only way for her to ride a horse fast enough to escape the destruction that filled the city. Richard wrapped a strong arm around her, taking up the reins in his other, and before she had a chance to even draw breath, they were off. He urged the horse into a gallop, and they sped down the narrow street.
She could see little with the side of her face pressed against Richard's chest. The air was thick with dust and the shouts of dying men. It all flew past, the horse's hooves thundering beneath her as they fled the city, rattling her swollen body.