XXVII. ALONE
Kahlan slept on the floor of a cave, her cloak spread like a blanket over her, and Richard's bunched like a pillow beneath her head. Though she slept peacefully, it did nothing to hide her exhaustion. Dark shadows lurked beneath her eyes, chastising him. Richard let his head fall forward to rest against his knees, tears like pinpricks at the corners of his eyes. He could not bear how close he'd come to losing her, to watching her death at the hands of banelings and Sisters of the Dark.
He'd pushed her hard in the escape, but there had been no other choice. Slowing down would have meant capture and death. They'd rode hard and long as they fled the city until they reached a rocky region, pockmarked with cliffs and caves, and had sought shelter there among the stones. The moment he'd helped Kahlan down from the horse, she'd staggered forward a step, only to collapse unconscious in his arms. The sight had been enough to stop his heart.
Zedd had hovered over her; his hands pressed against her womb, and had said in a quiet voice that her child still thrived inside her. He blamed exhaustion and mumbled words in an ancient tongue that had set the very air to tingling. A moment later, she'd opened her eyes and murmured Richard's name. Struggling not to weep, he'd lifted her up and carried her into the cave, urging her to sleep. It hadn't taken much coaxing; her eyes slipped shut again almost instantly. Richard turned his back on the others, taking up Kahlan's hand to hold as she slept.
Zedd and Cara went outside to comb the surrounding area for any magical traps placed by the sisters, and Richard sat alone with her a long time. He shivered in the dark of the cave, more from misery than cold, and leaned closer to Kahlan, brushing a stray strand of hair back from her face. His heart felt heavy in his chest; he never should have brought her to such a place. She could have died in that city, and there would have been no one to blame but himself. He alone had decided to abandon the compass. Had it not been for his words, Kahlan would never have tossed it into the fire, and he wouldn't now be leading them blindly into danger and death without the slightest idea of how to find the stone. How to keep her safe. He had never felt less worthy of the sword at his side than he did now.
He started at the sudden sound of footsteps and turned his head to see Cara making her way into the cave, trailing a leather gloved hand along the rough rock wall for guidance.
"We didn't find anything," she said in answer to his unspoken question. Richard nodded. That, at least, was good news. He hated to think of moving Kahlan again so soon. Cara squatted down beside him, her leather creaking. "The wizard's casting a web around the cave now. He says it will alert him immediately if anyone approaches."
Richard nodded a second time, but said nothing. He didn't know what there was to say after a day like today. Cara cleared her throat, "Lucky the D'Harans were there." There was something strange about her voice, an echo of something hopeful and beseeching, like a child fishing for a compliment. "We're fighting the same enemy as them," she added, and he nearly choked when he realized she wanted him to praise D'Hara.
He scowled, thinking of everything D'Hara meant to him. Ruthless cruelty and destruction. The shame of sharing blood with Darken Rahl.
"They would make a powerful ally," she said.
"An ally without honor," spat Richard, something dark and nasty welling up inside him.
Cara kicked at the ground with the toe of her boot, dislodging bits of gravel. "It's not such a bad thing to be D'Haran. It is the best thing, unless you are Mord-Sith. That is better." She started quietly, but her voice soon turned boastful. Usually he found it amusing; now it only irritated him.
"There's nothing good in a Mord-Sith either," he said, letting his bitter mood choose his words for him. "I thank the spirits at least my daughter will never be one."
Cara stiffened, her face blank. She sat very still, saying nothing, and then she stood. "I'm going hunting," she announced without looking his way. "Kahlan will need food when she wakes." Richard watched her go, a crush of depression settling over him; he had succeeded in hurting her feelings for no reason at all.
He sat in unhappy silence a long while, his only solace the steady sound of Kahlan's breathing. The cave was descending further into blackness as night approached, wrapping him in near total darkness by the time that soft, shuffling footsteps marked Zedd's approach. Richard clenched the hilt of his sword and stared straight ahead as his grandfather came and sat beside him. The air felt thick with unsaid things, and the magic of the sword began to crawl over his skin, twisting the heavy silence into something every bit as sharp as the blade.
Zedd drew a long, rattling breath. "It's good that she sleeps," he said. "She doesn't get enough rest. I fear this journey has gotten too hard for her."
"I know," said Richard through gritted teeth. He wondered if Zedd thought him blind. He knew that for every time Kahlan admitted to feeling tired or sore or weak, there were a hundred times that day when she'd felt just as weary and said nothing at all. It broke his heart all over again every time he saw her stumble.
"She should never have been in that city today," continued Zedd. Richard tightened his grip on the sword, a hot surge of anger racing through him. He knew that too. He'd almost gotten her killed. His grandfather laid a hand on his arm. "She's not thinking rationally anymore," he said quietly. "She wants only to be next to you. It's time for you to be the strong one, Richard."
"What would you have me do?" he demanded. It was a sign of just how exhausted Kahlan was that she did not so much as stir at his raised voice. "When she looks at me with tears in her eyes and begs me not to leave her? You would have me send her away? I can refuse her nothing. Not after what I have done to her."
Zedd gave a heavy sigh, "Surely you and her are past that day now?"
Richard stared at his grandfather's shadowy face. He no longer hated himself with every breath he took, but he would never forget that day. When he said nothing, Zedd went on, "You were not yourself, my boy."
"No," snapped Richard, the magic of the sword pushing him to his feet. Long suppressed anger at his grandfather came bubbling to the surface. "I was Annabelle's puppet. And yours."
"Yes," agreed Zedd quietly, his voice too close in the darkness. "You were. And I am so sorry for what you have endured, what both of you have endured, but you have at least both grown stronger for it."
Richard clung to his sword. He hadn't expected Zedd to agree with him and apologize, and something deep inside him wanted to forgive, but the flood of anger from the sword washed over him, carrying the impulse away.
"No," he said in a rough, low voice. "There is no strength to come from what I did. Only something broken. You have seen to it that I will have memories to haunt me the rest of my life, and into the Underworld beyond it."
"Don't let yourself be so tormented, my boy. Kahlan still loves you. Take your solace from that and grow stronger. We must move on. Something must be done now that the Sisters of the Dark know she is here."
"What?" said Richard with a growl. He lowered his voice to a heated whisper, hissing into the blackness like a snake, the sword's rage singing in his veins. "She is hunted and she cannot flee. I will not send her away to be guarded by strangers. I will keep her alive myself or die trying."
"And what of the stone?" pressed Zedd, his tone beginning to harden. "How will you find it when you cannot leave her side? She will have no peace until you do."
"I'll find it!"
"How?" pressed Zedd. "Put aside your sulking, and act like the Seeker I know you are. She will give birth before many more days pass, and when she does, I fear the prophecy will be fulfilled whether we are ready for it or not."
"I don't believe in prophecy," snapped Richard. He felt as if he bore a mountain on each shoulder, and was slowly dying under all the weight pressing him down. His grandfather would not stop talking.
"And when your belief alone is not enough to save her? Then what? You have brought her here into the very nest of those who would kill her, with no plan for her safety or the stone. I am asking you, Seeker, what will you do?"
Richard stared into the darkness of the cave, at the blackness and the shadowy shape of Zedd looming tall and full of judgment. Kahlan slept on, and his blood burned hot. He had no answer. He imagined the world ending in a flash of the Keeper's fire, and he the only soul to blame. The fury of the sword melded with his grief, and the pain of the magic in his veins was like it hadn't been in months. He staggered forward to keep from dropping to his knees.
Zedd had no faith in him, and yet Zedd had been the one to name him Seeker. The one to lay the whole of this burden upon him. The magic of the sword surged stronger, and he remembered the thought he'd had once of killing Zedd, cleaving him clean in half. It caused the sword to tingle, and the blade to glow like a warning in his hand. The faint light was ominous, illuminating the huddled form of Kahlan still sleeping on the ground, and the troubled lines of his grandfather's face. Richard leaned against the wall of anger, breathing hard.
"Richard, my boy," said Zedd, his voice gentling some with concern.
Richard shook his head. He had no words that could make it past the grief and rage that choked him. Blindly he turned away to stumble towards the open mouth of the cave.
"Richard," called Zedd again. "Where are you going?" He started to follow after.
"Stay and guard her, Zedd," he said. Kahlan was the only thing that could make it past the sword. "She can't be left alone."
Zedd stopped at that, and he knew his grandfather would not follow. Not when Kahlan slept defenseless and heavy with child.
He mumbled a plea to the spirits that they would keep her safe, and then he stepped out into the open air. Richard started walking like he had all those long nights as a woods' guide, with only starlight to guide him. His sword burned heavy in his hand, and every footstep fell like doom. He had no doubt about his path. He would go down alone into the waiting darkness of the rift.