Desperation took over her swings, mingling with her anger and the two tried to kill the tired ache settling into her. Dread decided to have its fun with her, too. The cavern shook and men screamed but Kahlan didn't realize why until she saw a thing pounce on a slaver not too far from her and her current enemy. It took up his attention and she took the opportunity to kill him. She saw it then, actually saw it. The creature's skin was sunken in and sickly pale, but worst of all, it looked like it might've been human once.
Something crashed into Kahlan and she screamed, trying to stab it even as she fell. Her body hit the ground in time for her to see one of the creatures fly past her, screeching as it went. The weight on her left. Even as she tried to rise, a hand hauled her to her feet, shoving her.
"Move, Confessor!"
She stumbled over a corpse in dodging a falling piece of the cavern. One of the creatures abandoned its feeding to crawl toward her. Kahlan gripped her remaining dagger, ready to fight for her life, but when it advanced, a familiar sword cut into it. She looked to see Cara deliver the killing blow. Kahlan flung her dagger and a newly dead creature skidded into the Mord'Sith, knocking her over. She wrenched the blade from it and surged to her feet. Green found blue.
Kahlan bolted for the tunnel, knowing Cara followed right behind her. The place shook so violently she toppled forward, but she just half crawled, half ran. On her feet again, she practically crashed through the tunnel, grit falling into her eyes. Over the sound of everything, she could hear screeching.
A section of ceiling fell and Kahlan barely made it over the rolling heap. She risked a glance to see that Cara wasn't as fortunate and pulled the woman to her feet. They could hear a high, pained noise behind them and moved faster. The two broke into the first cavern, running faster now that they were free of the winding tunnel. Kahlan nearly fell when Cara yanked her arm, putting her on a new course. A portion of the ceiling shattered behind them. Kahlan took the lead again in the opening tunnel, not slowing when she saw sunlight filtering through the waterfall. She burst through it, momentarily blinded by the brightness before falling into the small lake. Kahlan surfaced in time to see the Mord'Sith plummet into the water.
And her heart did the same thing. Plummeted, and cold dread followed in its wake. Because for what reason would the Mord'Sith not attempt to kill her? Sure, she'd helped her out the cavern—saved her life yet again—but she'd always said she wanted to kill Kahlan herself. Her breath caught when Cara surfaced. It was the second—or third?—time she realized. The Mord'Sith was having trouble staying above water and attempting to sheathe the sword, it seemed. It seemed unreasonable at first, but then Kahlan remembered. The injured shoulder she'd probably worked to death in the past two days, something any Mord'Sith would have exploited and Trianna probably did that exactly. Never mind that she was sure if she'd managed to actually strike the woman when she swung out with her dagger. The fall in the tunnel. Kahlan could just let the Mord'Sith drown. The Mother Confessor could not risk her life for a Mord'Sith that may—logically—only kill her.
Cara dipped under again.
Unbidden and so sudden it froze her until she went under, something deep inside of her called to a memory, pressing it against her, burning into her very being. Kahlan remembered those eyes, reflecting the madness she felt inside.
She urged her tired limbs, her mind on nothing but getting the both of them out the water, regardless of whatever may happen afterward. It was as far from logical as she could get, but it made perfect sense. By the time she reached the Mord'Sith, she was surfacing, having successfully sheathed the sword. Blonde hair somewhat in her face, Cara looked less than pleased to see her, but Kahlan didn't falter. "Give me—"
Cara moved sharply, something glinting in the sunlight, and Kahlan flailed, splashing water around the both of them as she grabbed the blonde's wrist. It was then she realized Cara was trying to return her dagger. She took it from the gloved hand and awkwardly dipped underwater to sheathe it and barely managed to surface, only to slip under again. Something gripped part of her arm so fiercely she felt the previously sealed wound open and she gasped, taking in water. Kahlan was jerked above water, spluttering.
"Don't die on me now, Confessor. You'd be rather boring if you did."
"I won't if, if you don't." She coughed again, and dug her fingers into Cara's shoulder as something hard triggered pain in her ribs.
"Faster we get ashore, faster the sword won't be in your side," Cara hissed in her ear.
Sure enough, it was the Sword of Truth that caused her pain, and she realized she'd caused Cara's. She shifted her hold so her arm was around the blonde's neck.
"Ready?"
Kahlan felt Cara's hand abandon its grip on her corset to slide across her back, pulling their bodies together. She shivered. She couldn't think of a time she'd been this close to someone to save her life, and Kahlan could feel the warmth of Cara, but she was still tired, injured, cold and wet so her reaction to a touch she wasn't acquainted with was to be expected. Fingers settled on her hip soundly, disrupting her thoughts. "I don't think I can do it myself." She winced, unsure why she blurted it like that.
"You think I'm holding you for fun?"
The Confessor would bet her life Cara rolled her eyes, but she didn't turn her head the scant inches that would bring them face to face. Pressed close like this, holding each other so close Kahlan could feel Cara's heart beating—or was it hers?—they were inevitably keeping each other above the surface. But she wasn't sure why she expected Cara to shove her away the moment neither of them were drowning because they both needed each other.
Oh, right. Because they didn't need each other, they—
Her body jerked from Cara's sudden effort in getting them toward shore, muttering something about foolishness. Kahlan contributed in their slow, awkward swim and focused on nothing but it since the feel of the Mord'Sith against her was so damned warm and she'd already gotten lost in her thoughts to the point of Cara having to take her from them. Again. So, they swam, Kahlan having an increasingly hard time holding onto Cara until the blonde's arm pulled them impossibly closer, almost painfully so.
"Hold on tight, Confessor." Even with the strain they were under, Cara's voice was pitched low, directly in her ear. "I might just show you how I hold someone for fun." She laughed, ragged but suggestive.
Not only was Kahlan too tired to care about the sexual remark beyond a small blush—which could've been from exertion for all anyone knew, disregarding her small measure of experience—and a barely there chuckle. The Mord'Sith's attitude was, in some strange way, kind of comforting. It was steadfast, even in such an impossible situation. But as the woman grunted, something rang through Kahlan's mind, finally having meaning.
You can only share your pain with certain people.
The extent of its significance, its actual essence, it stood just out of her reach for now, and she knew it. She could figure it out later. Kahlan settled for a better grip on Cara, feeling the woman's fingers dig into her hip in return. "Harder, I won't break." If it weren't for the fact she'd practically whispered in the blonde's ear, she could've hoped her comment wasn't heard over their efforts at swimming. Kahlan didn't know what possessed her to something so ambiguously, but she felt Cara's laughter and tried for a grin in spite of herself, though it turned into more of a grimace. Cara squeezed, fingers tightening to the point of eliciting a hiss, answering the brunette's dare with one of her own. Kahlan fumbled a moment, then her hand slipped under the neck of Cara's leathers so she could dig her nails into the actual skin of the woman's shoulder. Distantly, she wondered how the Mord'Sith could be so soft, but focused on the pain she felt at her hip as they swam, finally in some odd rhythm.
When they were able to stand in the water, they still clung to each other, to Kahlan's mild surprise, keeping each other upright as the stumbled onto land. Kahlan was surprised, however, when her warm pillar of support suddenly vanished. She stood upright for a moment, then, deciding standing was stupid and evil and unnecessary, Kahlan all but threw herself down, her world spinning until she gazed up at a blue sky. She more so heard Cara fall into a sit beside her than saw it.
"We're sharing colors."
Sharing colors. Maybe the Mord'Sith had lost her mind. Kahlan raised up enough to rest on her elbows, favoring one when pain shot through her arm, and saw that Cara had the same thought about her mental state. It was kind of cute, her tired mind registered, the way Cara's eyes crossed as if she were trying to look at her brain and accuse it of being stupid. Without a single thought to it, Kahlan poked her nose. The answering glare was enough to make her laugh and she didn't much care that Cara slapped her hand away hard enough that when she moved it, her wrist popped. She expected as much. Besides, getting under the woman's skin was growing to be a great pastime for her. At last, she sat up. "What colors?"
Cara drew an agiel, noticing the Confessor didn't seem the least bit concerned about it—she didn't know how to feel about that, which was troublesome on its own—and used it to point at the woman's shoulder.
Kahlan looked down, finding her white dress to be stained with blood. Some of it obviously came from the wound Cara had sealed up earlier, and Kahlan couldn't miss the irony of it being torn open by Cara in helping her, but she had the feeling not all of the blood was her own. Her gaze shifted in time to see Cara turning the agiel on herself to cauterize a cut at her shoulder that seeped blood. So she had managed to cut Cara. Well. It seemed they were both in less than perfect condition. Kahlan felt eyes on her, coming back from her musing. Cara stared at her expectantly, hand held out. "What?"
The agiel hummed as Cara drew a small circle in the air toward Kahlan's arm. Her wound. Kahlan sighed, and took to glaring at Cara for smirking. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"You're not?"
She opened her mouth to say no, she definitely was not enjoying herself, but couldn't find the words. So she said the only thing she could. "Why?" Confessors couldn't read Mord'Sith, but as blue eyes studied Cara, the belief that the woman's brow was furrowed in thought, not confusion, grew until she became entirely sure of it. As the sounds of the waterfall and humming agiel carried on while the woman remained silent, Kahlan thought to say something, but her lips only parted in a hiss as the agiel sang against her arm again. She latched onto Cara's outstretched hand until her vision went black.
Cara dropped the limp hand and glared at her as if it'd help her decide to forcibly wake the Confessor or not. She huffed. It was her own fault, honestly, and she figured if it weren't for the woman's current state, she would've stayed conscious. But Cara had done more than necessary for the wound, been careless, came close enough to knocking herself out that it was worth chastising herself. It didn't matter that she was on the verge of pushing herself in terms of her endurance, didn't matter the woman's question bothered her. Cara sheathed her agiel and unbuckled the sword from around her waist, setting it across her lap as she took in the area once more. She stared at the unconscious Confessor, head tilted.
Berdine rolled her shoulders as she made her way down the hall of the Temple. Given her gait, anyone would think her on a mission. In a way, she was. A Mord'Sith's life was a mission. No more, no less. No more. No less. Disgust rose in the form of bile in her throat and she flexed her fingers, thinking of returning to the training room and promptly dismissing the thought even as it came to her. It would fail her. Almost everything failed her when she felt this way. Almost. And just like that, as if the Creator herself decided to answer and deny her unknown prayer, her terrible salvation turned into the same hallway. Berdine forgot the possible danger, forgot her troubles, forgot herself as her eyes took in the shorter Mord'Sith with fleeting but thorough touches for a stilled eternity.
And it shattered before the woman fully strode past her.
Berdine swallowed thickly and registered a familiar taste in her mouth—blood—at the same time she realized she'd stopped walking entirely. She released her tongue from the hold her teeth had, but didn't resume walking. If she did, she might turn, go after the Mord'Sith though she didn't know what she'd do, what she could do. A terrible smile pulled at Berdine's lips. Mord'Sith did not ease pain, they created it, bred it, nurtured it. Hate overrode her disgust, gripping her heart and mingling with her blood to fill not just her body, but her soul. Her soul. As if she had one. But that was it exactly, the one thing that made her entertain the absurd possibility that maybe, just maybe a Mord'Sith could be something other than she'd been taught—maybe a Mord'Sith could have a soul instead of a well of nothing but hate—that one thing walked past her without a single glance. But Berdine understood why dark eyes had been too focused ahead of her, jaw too tight, stride too purposeful in spite of an odd, pained sway to it.
Raina was angry, seething hatred, but she was also ashamed.
She didn't want Berdine to see her weakness. But again, there was more. Raina stood between two worlds and not only hated when they met, but hated them simply for existing. She hated the world that involved Berdine. She hated the world that involved her mistress. And Berdine suspected Raina hated herself, perceiving the very notion of having two worlds as foolish, as a weakness. How could she not? Mord'Sith had one world.
Or so they were told. Berdine never believed it, not when she held no true rank yet held Darken Rahl's ear—which stirred odd feelings in her because if she hadn't kept something to herself, the bastard might still be alive—not when she was valued for the same thing that caused her ridicule, not when she knew only hate yet wanted to ease someone's pain. Berdine's doubts had been cemented the day Raina kissed her without lust or power or violence. That day, she smiled at Cara, and the woman gawked at her, beat her, tried to train it out of her, all the while instilling the supposed fact that Mord'Sith had one world. But Berdine recognized the look in Cara's eyes that morning. Fear. Berdine had spent so much time analyzing the root of Cara's fear, wondering if—
A stinging slap across her face ripped apart her thoughts. Berdine took in a deep breath, let it out. She turned her head, finding hollow green eyes lit by hate burning into her. Berdine gathered that the woman had thrown a taunt or two her way and hadn't appreciated the fact her words went unnoticed, but Berdine gave her no satisfaction, her face plain as if they talked about the air outside. "Are you in need of something, Adriane?"
The redhead offered a cold, malicious smile with her thin lips. "I think you're misguided. In need of training."
Berdine knew a small crowd gathered, waiting to see if there would be a shift in power, waiting to see their Sisters fight, waiting to place bets, waiting to see blood spill. But she didn't look. Just cocked her head, eyebrows raised in honest curiosity. "And from what path have I deviated?"
Adriane faltered, obviously thrown off by the direction of things, but the snickers passing through the crowd spurred her. "You're no Mord'Sith."
Silence. It was pure challenge, the one thing any Mord'Sith would not leave unattended, would not let pass. It was to be met with vehement rage and instant violence. Berdine's terrible smile returned a moment before she laughed, unknowingly shocking everyone because she was too caught up in the fact Adriane thought her anger was of note. It was as dangerous as a leaf miles away compared to the rage inside of her, and her laughter stopped the moment she struck Adriane's shoulder so hard she spun.
The woman lashed out, trying to recover, but Berdine didn't pay it any mind. She grabbed Adriane's braid and jerked to her right, hard. Adriane's head slammed into the stone wall. She slid down limply. Berdine stepped over the woman, not bothering to see if she was simply unconscious or dead, and gave that terrible smile to the Mord'Sith watching, gave them that smile that was more so for herself than them, but they'd never know it. It'd never occur to them, especially not when they were in shock.
Berdine never looked back, just kept walking, set on going to her rooms because if she went anywhere else, she didn't know what she would do. She'd never really been physical about the ridicule Adriane took pride in giving, took as her natural right because their great Lord Rahl felt it was amusing. But today she fell to the level of someone she hated, today she fell into the madness she hated, and in turn, she hated herself.
Eventually, she found herself closing her door, standing in the middle of her chambers. But it was strange, blurred. She rubbed one of her eyes, blinked down at her gloved hand. It was wet. Berdine stared down at it, trying not to comprehend herself, trying not to comprehend what she could see, trying not to comprehend the familiar feeling of breaking. Her hand fell limply by her side after a time, unable to stand the sight of the dried moisture mixed with dried blood. Even if someone held her hand to their eyes, they wouldn't see it. But she could.
Knocking stirred the brunette. Mutely, both inside and out, she opened the door.
"Ah, there you are," came Denna's smooth voice, complete with a smile signifying nothing. She breezed into the room as if it were her own and settled on the bed, crossing her legs and resting her hands on a knee.
Berdine took a breath, shook herself. She couldn't be this way, not when the blonde wanted something. She shut the door to her room as she shut the door on her troubles. "What brings you here, Sister?"
Her eyes flicked down, taking in the compliment. She knew how the brunette felt about Mord'Sith, even if the woman never directly voiced it, knew Berdine called select Mord'Sith by the title "Sister." Denna's gaze travelled to find piercing blue eyes analyzing her, but out of an inquisitive nature rather than a suspicious one. "Adriane's causing a stir, trying to reassert her power."
"She is rather hardheaded."
Now Denna's smile held amusement. "Yes, and the Breath of Life allowed her to remind us of that endearing quality she holds."
So she had killed her. Berdine gave a small smile, but it had everything to do with Denna and nothing to do with Adriane. She always enjoyed the dance that was their conversations. "I'm sure she'll look to remind me in particular."
"Naturally, but not for some time."
"Time seems to be in abundance these days." Berdine saw the blonde's smile widen ever so slightly in a way many would've missed. "Tell me, how does someone such as yourself spend their excess of time with no supervision?"
The smile left. "Come, sit." She patted the bed beside her for emphasis, and didn't continue until Berdine sat beside her. Blue eyes looked into a different shade of blue purposefully. "I spend my time productively."
Berdine stared, wondering if this was a "thank you," wondering if the woman knew about the information she'd held, costing Darken Rahl's life. Denna knew just about everything. "I suspected as much."
Denna tilted her head, thinking a moment. "Am I obvious?"
"To whom?"
Denna gave a nod. "A valid question."
"One you provided no answer for."
"If only you would answer mine, Berdine."
"Ah, but you never answered my first question."
Denna laughed. "So I haven't. Show me yours, I'll show you mine."
"What do I have to lose?"
"You have everything to gain."
"Then you must gain the world."
The blonde uncrossed her legs and laid back to stretch. "If only a girl could."
"I'd be surprised if your ambitions were anything but."
"But what does a girl have if she owns the world and has no soul?"
Berdine held up her hands. "If we don't stop now, we'll be here well into tomorrow."
"Business before pleasure." She sat up. "I have a proposition for you."
"I have ears."
Denna allowed a smile, then settled back into her serious air. "Dahlia's been… unsettled and—"
"That's quite the euphemism."
She gave Berdine a look, but continued, "Instead of Cara simply not writing to her, since she has no idea Dahlia even keeps track of her, there's been nothing in the journey book from that Temple."
Berdine's eyes wandered around the room. She knew Denna would expect nothing less than for her to think about it, so she took the time. Then, "Just what have you been up to lately?"
"An idea."
"I bet Dahlia's dying to know where Cara is. If she's even alive." The thought troubled her, she found. She pushed it away. No time for it. "But she doesn't have enough power to go herself or get someone to."
"She is, she doesn't."
Berdine's blue eyes pierced Denna all of a sudden. "That's it, isn't it? Information?"
"My idea requires allies."
"Dahlia would be grateful to the one that told her of Cara. Be indebted to them. Or possibly hate them, depending on the news."
"I can deal with hate."
Berdine released Denna from her gaze. "But tempered hate, complemented with respect and loyalty. Unlike what you'd find if you went around breaking Mord'Sith."
"Precisely. I have no desire for someone at my side aspiring to agiel my head when it best suits them."
"Better to have a few you can turn your back to rather than a hundred you can't be within a league of without looking out for betrayal." She wondered if it were even possible with Mord'Sith. They hated each other on principle. Usually.
Denna nodded and they settled into silence until Berdine broke it.
"You never told me your proposition."
"I'd like a pair of Mord'Sith to investigate and tell me what they learn."
Berdine chewed the inside of her cheek. "With whom would I travel?"
Denna didn't respond immediately. "You do nothing about Raina's mistress because you wouldn't give someone the chance to say 'yes' if they couldn't say 'no.'" She stared at Berdine until blue eyes met. "A wise outlook."
"And yet?"
"And yet a person needs the opportunity to give either answer."
"You don't want me to go, do you?" She eyed Denna's smile. "Just what is your plan?"
"Grace will—"
"Because Dahlia controls her out of some twisted desire to hold onto Cara and will feel comforted by the knowledge of someone—"
"Yes, yes," Denna huffed. "And Raina will go as well."
Her brow furrowed. "That's a why I can't figure out."
"I'll take care of it."
"Naturally. But tell me, what am I actually doing?"
Denna rose, smiling over her shoulder as she reached the door. "You? You're going to give Raina the opportunity to decide."
Berdine gaped at her even as she left, then gaped at the closed door. She jumped to her feet, ready to sprint after Denna. She wrenched open her door, only to be face to face with the woman. She was still smiling, and she placed a finger on Berdine's lips.
"It will be better if you're surprised."
Denna walked away.