LOTS - CARA/KAHLAN

The Gift Of Stolen Time

Dark_Kurai

Title: The Gift Of Stolen Time

Author: Dark_Kurai

Pairing: Cara/Kahlan, quite likely slight touches of Cara/Dahlia

Rating: Let’s be safe and make it… R

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Bwuaaah…*sob*

Spoilers: This is past 2x22, so I don’t know if it counts as AU. Please, please let this be AU soon, ’cause that means there will be a third season…

Summary: Follow–up to A Tear, A Word, A Smile – When Zedd opens a magical portal to ease their travels after the victory against the Keeper, something goes wrong that forces Cara away from the Midlands for some time…

Warnings: Once again… I’m German and thus quite handicapped as Betareader, so don’t throw rotten tomatoes if something sounds strange. There will be violence against children, although not of sexual nature. *shudders* There will also be important OCs crawling around with Cara stuck wherever she is, so if you hate that, well, then you hate that. That’s life.

Author’s Note: Originally, I wanted to use it in the LotS BigBang challenge, but I… chickened out. Yeah. This is quite a big story and not yet finished, but I thought ‘What the heck’ and will start posting what I have gradually. Sooo… what else? This will be mostly Cara–centric for quite some time with snipets of what the rest of the guys are doing. Well, I will prattle more about that when the respective parts are posted, so have fun with the first part.

The Gift Of Stolen Time

Dark_Kurai

Cara crashed to the ground, her shoulder hitting the dirt and the momentum of her flight carrying her further onwards. Disoriented from the magic that had brought her here, the only thing she was able to grasp was that she was rolling down a hill in the woods, meaning that endless stones, sticks and little hills of earth collided with her flesh and bones without her having any chance to stop it. She got a glimpse of the thick, heaven pierced forest canopy, then it exchanged with a brown–greenish blur of soil, before it was back to tree tops, then soil again.

Long internalized training kicked in after the third twirl and she hugged her extremities close to herself, shielding her face with both forearms. The leather around her body proofed to be a sufficient protection against the cuts she would have obtained otherwise, but spirits, would she be covered in bruises later. Everything was in movement and her thoughts jumbled around in her head like bouncing balls.

Before she was given any chance of trying to slow her fall, Cara felt nothing but a rush of air blowing past her ears. That was bad. And it proved to be, once she collided again with the humus covered surface. Familiar pain exploded across her back and all she could see was a shower of dirt, rotting greens and freshly fallen leaves that her collision had created.

For an agonizing long second she had to get a grip on the fact that the spinning had stopped and that she was still alive. Probably black and blue, but alive and even in one piece. Forcing her lungs to gasp in some of the much needed air that had been forced from her, she carefully twitched her muscles to see if anything had been broken, but other than some straining and more contusions than she was able count, her body was functional.

Which meant it was time to find out where the hell this damned spell had sent her. Carefully pulling herself up while forcing her senses to full alertness, Cara let her gaze wander around her. Wiping a few leaves out of her face, she judged the height she had fallen. Three, maybe four feet, down a mound. Considering the rocks she could see piercing the ground around her, the landing had been very lucky.

Cara huffed. There was no point in standing around, and while she could not place the area in her head other than that it had to be somewhere in the Midlands, there had to be a village here somewhere.

If that damned wizard had sent me to the north I would have killed him. Slowly. By death of starvation.

A small check told the Mord’Sith that her leathers were scratched but not ripped, both Agiels still save in their sheath. With angry swipes she fished pieces of the woods out of her hair while walking what appeared downwards. Her tumble had taken her down what seemed to be a small hill encasing a valley, meaning that if there was anyone living near, they had most likely settled inside it.

First things first. Find out where you are, then get as fast as possible back to those incompetent fools before they get themselves killed in a rabbit snare.

It was still morning, near midday. She was traveling at a steady, enduring pace, saving her energy and allowing her body to thrum with small vibrations of pain. She would probably feel worse the next morning, but for now it was important to keep her muscles warm and moving, before any stiffness from the forming bruises could hamper her walking.

After the sun had slipped past the zenith, her search was gifted with the sight of lazy smoke lines atop the tree line. Quickening her steps, the trees soon grew few, signs of used paths in the undergrowth becoming visible. In little time she reached the first cluster of houses.

It was a village, quite big but plain, the houses made in a simple design and with cheap material. Striding forward without fear, the Mord’Sith found the main road and walked quickly past colorless people and faces. Some looked up in surprise, some in wary caution, but all looks were tinted with the familiar stab of hostility. Concious of who and, even more, what she was, Cara ignored them, walking onward as if deeming them not worth of her attention.

Finding a tavern only thanks to the crudely sign of a beer mug above the door, Cara sought out the owner. The place smelled rank, of old smoke and unwashed drinkers, but was empty at this time. What little light could get in told Cara she would be sleeping in the woods tonight, even for Midland standards this shack was bad.

“What is it?”, the man behind the bar asked in a gruff tone. His small, pale eyes travelled along her figure with disdain and a hint of carefulness. At least he wasn’t stupid enough to openly antagonize a Mord’Sith. Leaning her hip against the bar, the blonde placed both hands at the counter edge.

“Where is this place?” she asked in a voice that demanded an answer.

Pulling a face but realizing that she might be gone quickly if he answered her questions, the middle aged man folded his arms across the dirty shirt. “You’re in Srath, about 400 miles east of Vhep.”

Well, that told her about nothing. “What part of the country?”

He raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean ‘What part of the country?’. This is the country.”

Cara growled, forcing herself to be patient. “What part of the Midlands? Or is this D’Hara?”

When the owner didn’t answer and just kept looking at her with a bemused expression, she leaned forward in a slow, dangerous way that made him take an equally slow step back. “Answer me.”

“Look, Miss” he forced out between clenched teeth and it was clear he would have preferred a different word, “there ain’t no Midlands or D’Hara here or whatever you’re talking about. This is Darza. You got a hit over the head or something?” It was less of a question and much more of an insult. But Cara already wasn’t listening anymore, her hand moved forward and caught the man’s collar in a tight grip.

“If this is a joke, you will see in a moment that it wasn’t very funny,” she hissed at him after almost dragging him over the bar. The man was scrabbling for a purchase, finally holding onto her wrist, a look of terror on his face.

“Damn, I’m sorry, alright! Let go of me!” he got out between gasps for breath.

“I will only ask this one more time: What country is this?”

“Darza! Spirits, I swear, this is Darza!”

Finding no lie in the terrified man’s eyes, she let him drop back onto the counter with aplomb. This wasn’t just bad, this was really bad. There was no country of Darza in all of the Midlands, and she knew a lot of maps both old and new. If he really spoke the truth, and she didn’t need to use her Agiels to be sure of it, she had landed in a place quite far away from her home.

Oh, she would kill the wizard through starvation. Repeatedly.

Cara slammed a few coins on the counter while the owner still rubbed his neck. “You interested in this?”

Not willing to raise that strange woman’s ire again, he hastily examined the small piece of metal. “I don’t remember the minting, but that seems to be a very unalloyed coin of copper. You could get half my beverages for these pieces,” he added with sudden greed, biting on the coin with yellow teeth.

Now we’re talking, she thought and thanked whoever divinity listened that she always kept a small pouch on her belt. The money would have been enough for a night in a tavern and a few days of supplies in the Midlands, but in this little backwater village in the middle of wherever it seemed to equal the weight of a trunk full. “I don’t care about your brackish drinks, but you can get me some things for my travels. The quicker you get them, the sooner I’m out of your greasy hair.”

There was no way Cara was giving up on getting back to where she was supposed to be. Maybe these people simply hadn’t heard of a place called Midlands because they were peasants and thus, dumb as bread. She would try her luck in Vhep, which sounded like a town with at least some kind of literacy.

Naming him what she needed, Cara stayed behind on a bar stool, waiting and drinking what she imagined was the least adulterated liquid he owned.

A mug of milk.

Her sisters would have died of shame for this picture.

* * * * *

“Where did you send her?” Kahlan nearly shouted at Zedd while holding the front of his robe in a panic–filled death grip.

Mere moments ago he had had the great idea to open a gate to Aydindril with the help of the amulet that had created two halves of her months ago. He used the now nearly magic–less trinket as an anchor to the city, because the metal had been forged and enchanted inside of Aydindril, binding it forever to that place.

“It can’t be done all the time or anywhere,” he had said while preparing the spell, “because the magic is tricky and can be influenced easily. But with the Keeper safely sealed away, I will let us have this small luxury of easy traveling by using the Magical Planes. Thanks to the amulet, I’m able to do it.”

So he had opened the portal, leading them victoriously towards the shimmering, green tinted view of the city gates, when suddenly Sister Marianna appeared atop of the stairs, dripping blood and mad with rage.

“I will not die without taking you with me!” she had screamed, throwing her feeble magic and Dakra at the portal while Cara was just stepping inside. With the other three safely out of the way, Cara turned, held up her arms and flung the magic back at the doomed Sister. But it seemed that the dark magic had irritated the fragile balance of the portal. Before they were able to shout a warning, the green glowing circle snapped shut, with Cara traveling…somewhere.

Which lead to Kahlan becoming more frantic by the second. “Zedd, she’s not dead, is she?!”

“Kahlan, please calm down,” the wizard said in a quiet voice, but his face was grim and pale. He felt Kahlan’s shoulders shake with fear. Richard quickly stepped towards them, placing a supportive hand on her back, but also looking at Zedd with confusion.

“We can just open another portal, can’t we? Zedd?” His warm brown eyes pleaded for an answer, willing the old wizard to do something, anything.

“Before the portal closed, I could already see her falling through another opening, although for just the fraction of a second. She is somewhere else now, but at least not trapped between the planes.” Both his younger companions breathed a sigh of relief at that.

“Then we’ll just have to find her.” Richard send them both a warm, calming smile.

“That may not be so easy, I fear. I don’t know if the other portal led to this plane or another. I will need to do a searching spell to see if she is still here.”

“And if she’s not…?” Kahlan asked quietly, afraid. They had just defeated the Keeper… why did fate have to take away one of their loved ones as a price for that?

“Then things will get complicated. I will have to start searching the different planes to find out where she was sent to. It may take months…years even.” The grave news and guilt for making the mistake of creating such an unstable portal weighed down heavily on Zedd’s shoulders, making him appear closer to the age he really was.

Frustrated, the Seeker combed both hands through his hair. “No more magical traveling. Period.”

“Let’s head inside Aydindril,” Kahlan said in a defeated tone, exhausted from everything that had happened and the worry that now came on top. She was barely holding on to her countenance. So many conflicting feelings were cursing through her veins, most of all fear about Cara’s condition and guilt towards Richard. Lots and lots of guilt. But this was neither the time nor the place to tell him about it, so all she wanted was to sit down and have Zedd find out more. “They should have everything that you need for the spells. And we also can…” She stopped.

“Eat something, sleep, relax,” Richard replied, trying to help her out.

The Mother Confessor forced a smile on her face, equal to the one she had given him after he was healed from his blindness. Would he see through her? Would he find the truth, like the Seeker he was? All those things he had named seemed so trivial considering that Cara could be in trouble somewhere out there.

“Yes,” she lied, knowing she would only find sleep thanks to full exhaustion. “Let’s move quickly.”

Together they turned towards Aydindril, with news of a victory that had suddenly turned grim.

* * * * *

The owner, who introduced himself as Olk, had everything Cara wanted in the tavern in less than two hours. Placing the items on the bar, she eyed them with a critical eye while he explained.

“This is the best bow and arrows I was able to find, the local hunter is a real master in his work.” The bow was simple and crude, but it would do. Sadly, she realized that all of the things he presented were in all likelihood really the best ones Srath had to offer.

“I found a good travel sack and a mat for sleeping, which is made with the wool of our priced Srath sheep.” If those were made from the priced sheep, then she didn’t want to know the cloth coming from the normal ones.

“Our village’s healer died a short while ago, so our supply of ointments and herbs is getting scarce. This was all I could manage to find.” Two small bags with dried leaves and a sealed off jar containing salve. At least the healer had been fairly tidy and wrote the name and effect of the supplies on the containers.

It was less than she had hoped for, both in amount and quality, but it would be enough. The bow and arrows were the most important aspect in ensuring that she could travel through the woods for days without the danger of starvation. There were some other small trinkets Olk held up, but her mind was already planning other things. That was, until she held up the jar from the healer and noted the small carvings on its side.

“These are D’Haran letters,” she spoke to herself.

Olk snorted. “Still with the D’Hara stuff. That is Darzal, but I guess you won’t find anyone other than me and the town’s elder able to read it for miles.”

“Must be useful while keeping tabs,” the Mord’Sith answered in a flat voice while placing the jar back.

“It is,” he replied equally flat and started packing all things save the bow and quiver into her new pack. He added some cooking utensils and supplies, before shoving all of it in her direction. “There, all done. You should get moving.”

“So eager to have me gone?” Cara smirked dangerously and Olk shifted his gaze away.

“I don’t care about you,” he admitted carefully, “but since the healer and one of our people died, the folks are a bit… edgy. I would be glad not to have a fight erupt in my barroom.”

Acknowledging his words with a purse of her lips, Cara grabbed everything she needed. “Anything dangerous out there in the woods?”

There was that bemused look again. Olk blinked, then said, “Nothing unusual.” Something about the choice of his words nagged at her, but she decided to let it slide. She had a weird feeling in this village and the sooner she was gone, the better.

Seizing him up one last time, the blond woman left the uncomfortable tavern, vowing to never return here again.

When she stepped back into the woods, the hostile glances of the villagers hovering behind her back like growling dogs, Cara willed herself not to think too much about her situation. She was alone in a place she didn’t know and far away from anyone or anything familiar. Maybe not that far, considering the D’Haran runes on the salve, but far enough that the name Darza didn’t jump–start her memory. Not that she was helpless… Cara would survive just fine on her own. But that didn’t mean that she had to be happy about it.

Using Mord’Sith training and her natural stubbornness, the stranded woman forced away all thoughts of why she was here and what would become of her, pushing memories of Richard, Zedd, ohhh, there was a surge of anger, and… Kahlan away from her conscious mind. There was a long walk ahead of her, she would need her strength and a clear head.

Her back decided that this was a great moment to start pulsing more painfully.

Part 2

The light turned golden when Cara stumbled across a small clearing. Heading steadfast in a western direction towards Vhep, she realized that her first assumption about the valley had been wrong. The land next to the hill spread across the horizon in a wavy motion, only ending at what seemed to be a mountain range stretching itself west and east as far as she was able to look.

Letting her gaze wander prudently when the trees parted slightly, it fell on a small lump of clothing that was not part of the natural growth of the forest. She remembered Olk’s words and stepped closer, slowly, because there was no need to rush anymore.

It was the body of a child.

A young girl of about six, maybe seven years, lying on her back and staring up into the nearly cloudless sky with an empty expression. Bruises covered her face and her worn out clothing was torn and ripped in several places, showing more abused skin. Blood crusted her lower lip and hung dry in the tangled, honey colored hair.

’Nothing unusual’, he said, she thought with an annoyed frown, because the beasts are hidden inside their backwater houses. Whoever had beaten this poor child to death, as she was sure there had been more than one, was already long gone from the scene of crime. The grass and ground around the corpse was trampled and Cara would swear on her Lord Rahl that any trails would lead straight back towards the village. At least it didn’t look like a sexual assault.

For a second Cara wondered about her desire to turn around and walk back towards Srath, only to torture every breathing human being about who the aggressors had been, to give them a similar, painful ending. She had seen many female children tortured and beaten into submission inside the Mord’Sith temples, but seeing this kind of brutality used so pointlessly… it stung.

It won’t bring her back if I use my energy on those rats. Knowing that a few months ago she would have left the girl lying here without a second glance, Cara couldn’t help but think about the faces of her friends and what they would say of this notion. Richard would be shocked, Zedd livid and the Mother Confessor…

She could see it in front of her eyes like a distant memory. Kahlan would be deeply disappointed and the image of her drawn face was so vivid in Cara’s mind as if she had just done something that deserved such a look from the taller woman. Disturbed by that concept, she closed and opened her lids quickly, trying to erase the heavy feeling from her insides and return her attention back to the real world.

There were enough rocks covering the ground in this wood that she could cover the girl’s body with them as a makeshift grave. It wasn’t as good as a dug one, but a child this young and killed in such a heartless way deserved a burial of some kind. That was supposedly what the Midlanders would have told her. After a small moment of hesitation, she decided to drag the glove of her right hand and reach forward to close the girl’s eyes. Their color was washed out by the strong golden evening light that coated everything in the clearing, though they looked nonetheless broken.

Cara’s fingertips strayed to a nasty bruise on the young child’s neck and she wondered if that had been the hit that killed her.

Only to recoil in shock when she felt a flutter.

She’s… alive?! Her hand snapped back to the pulse point and yes, there it was. Small, weak, if Cara had not touched the right place she would’ve never noticed it. The girl’s skin was cool to the touch, more than likely from the chilly, rocky ground she was lying on. And unconsciousness would explain the lifeless look on her face. Now that she concentrated on it, she could even see the barely noticeable rise of her chest.

Just peachy, Cara. Mistaking a living body for a dead one. What’s next, making friends with Banelings? Sheesh…

They had beaten a girl, a child, almost to death only to leave her lying here in the wild to have her find an even harsher end, either by wasting away or getting ripped apart by the predators crawling around in the underbrush. Not even Cara found a way to justify that kind of act anymore, this was plain cruelness. None of the Mord’Sith she had known would have done anything alike… or maybe she just wanted to believe that.

Breathing out in what was pure resignation after shoving a disappointed looking Mother Confessor once again to the back of her mind, the red clad woman forced her hands under the alarmingly light body of the girl and carried her away from the clearing, careful that no part of her was touching the Agiels. There had to be a better resting place than that where the villagers had tormented the child.

Why are you even still taken aback by the darkness of man?, her mind whispered quietly. Yes, indeed. Why? Wasn’t she a living, breathing example and executor of this supposed cruelty?

Because ‘some’ people decided to try and make me believe that there is still goodness and innocence out there, she answered back in a rare, bitter moment of self–understanding.

And that the beating of children might be wrong.

Cara walked without turning back.

* * * * *

It didn’t take long to find a suitable place to make camp. A tall boulder at the foot of the hill she was walking alongside proved perfect and she unloaded her fragile cargo right next to it. Using the remaining light to find some wood for the fire and check on the girl’s status, Cara slipped away for some time to shoot a small rabbit not far away. The forest was brimming with life and Cara guessed that it was near the end of spring, considering the clear weather that still carried a hint of cold and snow while steadily getting warmer.

Back at the camp a fire was easily made thanks to routine, the smell of roasting meat soon heavy in the air. During that time Cara cleaned the wounds of the small body wrapped in her new and only sleeping mat, applied the minty smelling salve and dressed the open cuts. Thankfully, none of them were deep enough to require sewing and a surprising stroke of luck had kept all bones intact. Warmed by the mat and the fire, the pale limbs and cheeks regained a healthier color beneath the layer of grime.

Afterwards Cara spent her time eating and pondering her situation, but without any specific knowledge about the magical arts that had brought her here she was left sans any grasp of what might have gone wrong. A small comfort was the fact that her Agiels were working and able to distract her occasionally.

The girl woke around midnight.

Disoriented and confused, her eyes flicked from one thing to the next, unable to grasp anything for longer than a second. Her confusion was evident, her breathing erratic, but if it was because of the fact that she was still alive or concerning her current whereabouts the Mord’Sith couldn’t tell.

Not knowing what to say to a child of this age, Cara stayed quiet until a fearful gaze settled on her face.

“I found you and dressed your wounds,” she said after a moment of mental scrambling for words. Better stick to what she knew, and that was stating facts.

Opening her mouth to give a sound, a word, whatever she meant to do, the girl was forced to endure a dry coughing attack that shock her whole frame. Only after a few gulps from the waterskin that Cara held for her did she manage to speak.

“Where am I?…Who are you?” she asked in a meek and scratchy, small tone that instantly rubbed the wrong way against anything Cara had been taught. Settling back on her heels, the Mord’Sith resigned herself to her fate.

“We are half a day east of Srath. I’m Mistress Cara.” The title slipped so easily from her tongue as if she was still back in the training dungeons. Not knowing if it was a good idea to hear it from a young girl after so many years, she hastily added, “You can call me Cara.”

Wetting her lips, the child flinched when her tongue touched the split in her lip. “Why’d you save me?”

Sucking her teeth in slight annoyance, mostly at herself for having exactly done that and not having a good answer why, she kept to the obvious. “Because you were hurt.”

It seemed as if the girl wanted to say something else, but she kept refusing to meet Cara’s eyes after the first glance and held her jaw shut.

Frustrated at the lack of progress, Cara huffed out some air. “Why did they attack you?”

There was a small mumble and a blonde head turning further away, although not without a flinch of pain from the movement.

“Since you are dressed in my bandages, lying on my bed roll and drank my water, I think I deserve an answer,” Cara snapped and watched the girl wince.

“I…I h–have the bad sign a–and without my…my grandma they, they wanted to get rid of m–me.” The girl was so terrified as if Cara would pull a knife and end her life on the spot any moment.

Spirits, that’s an antsy one. Fits that I always get the weak–willed ones. “And what, by all creatures of the Underworld, is a bad sign?”

The rustling stopped, surprised. “Uh…someone magic touched, and…evil, unlucky…stuff like that…” She didn’t seem to quite sure how to explain, puzzled that the woman wouldn’t know it, then turning back around a bit in order to find a better position for her battered torso. A flicker of the firelight illuminated her features and Cara had a chance to see what she was talking about and desperately trying to hide.

Pushing the girl’s hair out of the way to get a better look, Cara gazed at panic filled, bi–colored eyes, one green, one blue. Not exactly reason for alarm, in her opinion. “They pee their pants over two different colored irises? What a bunch of weaklings.”

Another small spark of surprise mixed with the panic and tamed it down to wary fear. The girl bit her lip despite the cut and gazed back into the fire.

“Hey, kid.” After getting her attention, she pushed the small bowl filled with what was left of the rabbit and a piece of bread next to the girl. “Eat that.”

Cara could have sworn that the meal would be gone in a flash the way the girl was eyeing it, but she only started eating the moment Cara shifted away and towards the fire. She could hear the waterskin being dragged towards the small ones resting place, but other than that it was eerily silent. Though when Cara turned back around, everything was gone, the waterskin back at its spot as if never having been touched at all.

The Mord’Sith could have stayed silent. She could have slept while sitting or not at all. She could have even pushed the girl near to the fire and taken the mat for herself… spirits, that didn’t sound like the worst idea.

Manners, Cara. Manners. That decidedly didn’t sound like her own voice and conjured up the image of being whacked with a paper roll by a certain, dark haired Mother Confessor.

Ugh. Domesticated like the pet Mord’Sith you are.

“So, kid,” Cara ground out in mental pain, while deciding it was silly to call the girl that any longer. “Your name?”

“Noa.”

“That’s a boy’s name.”

“It is?” Again, spoken in honest surprise and a bit of confusion. And then silence again.

I could get used to this quiet. While, at the same time, Care knew that she couldn’t. Damn those three in the Midlands for yapping all the time, now she was used to talking company. And having an unusually quiet kid sitting behind her back was even more disturbing.

“Tell me about your life,” she demanded, sounding irritated and short–tempered. Hopefully the gi…Noa was a fast healer, so that she could get back to traveling as fast as possible. Coddling and patting children was Richard and Kahlan’s job, dammit.

“Uh…but…what?”

“Where you were born, your grandma, stuff like that. Just talk!” Grumbling, Cara clenched her fingers around her Agiels. That couldn’t be that hard, could it?

There was the sound of shifting and a small glance told her that Noa had turned onto her back, the end of the too big sleeping roll dragged across her front. It seemed as if the girl didn’t know where to start, her mouth opening and closing a few times while her brow furrowed in deep concentration.

“I’m…about eight years old. As a baby I fell out of a portal in the village and that told everyone that I was a bad sign, especially with the eye colors.” So there was a high chance that Noa was from the Midlands, too. Why anyone would get the stupid idea to try and spell a baby was beyond her, but who knew what those crazy wizards inhaled while working their mumbo jumbo. Cara was just glad that she herself hadn’t mentioned the portal in Srath or resorted back to using her Agiels with the apparent dislike the villagers had for magic.

“They wanted me dead right away, but grandma came and took me in. She was important for them, so they left me alive… she’s not my real grandma, but I call her that anyway.” No, really. Cara yawned unseen.

“It’s kinda boring, my life. I grew up, got taught by grandma, ran errands for her… sometimes the other kids or the grown–ups hit me or scared me away, but once I learned to be sneaky it was better. Then grandma…she was ill, and old, so I couldn’t help her and she died two weeks ago and I… I was able to hide, but they found me and beat me, because…” A pause. “Grandma wasn’t there anymore and I was a bad sign and touched by magic. And then I woke up here.”

Noa spoke in a way that reminded her of children that had learned to keep sadness and fear hidden while at the same time trying not to anger their elders and instead rambling on about useless information. Cara had noticed the gap and that Noa was purposefully not telling her something. No wonder with most of the village intend on tearing her apart at every unguarded second… maybe the kid wasn’t as weak–willed as she had thought if she had survived this long.

Not that it changed the fact that Cara still found it annoying to make small–talk.

This is one crazy place I landed in.

Savoring the silence for a while, the only sound around her being the soft crackling of the fire and the nature at night, she wondered again why she was spending precious time tending to a child of another land that had nothing to do with her. A woman like herself didn’t need that much sleep and rest, so with a strict march she might have been in Vhep in less than a week. Now she had unneeded baggage to attend to until the kid was rested enough to…

…to what? What was she supposed to do with Noa now? Send her back to the village? Let her walk to the next one?

Well, that’s not my problem. She’s old enough to take care of herself.

Glancing back at the still form, Cara was surprised to find that Noa had fallen into an exhausted sleep, her face drawn and pale. The cut on her lip had re–opened during her talk, a small, dried trail of blood running down her chin.

The kid had rambled on out of fear, not out of interest to share her story.

Shutting herself off from all thoughts and emotions, trying to ignore and forget the small stab behind her ribcage, the Mord’Sith inched backwards against the boulder, closed her eyes and fell into a light daze, ears trained on any unnatural sound erupting from the area around them. She stayed that way until the morning light found its way back into the world.

* * * * *

Kahlan held her forehead in her hands, feeling exhaustion, despair and guilt settle across her shoulders like leaden weights. No Cara near Aydindril. Nor anywhere close to it. Not even inside the realm.

She might be dead, the Mother Confessor thought with a sense of painful defeat. She might be dead, now that I have found the truth in my heart. You are a cruel being, Creator. Pressing the palms of her hands against both eyes, she willed herself not to cry. She had already cried enough during her sleepless nights, filled with more dark feelings than ever before.

How could this have happened? What curse had been placed upon her, that she had to endure so much pain?

And Richard, spirits, poor, naive Richard. He believed she loved him more than ever after Zedd’s words inside the Pillars of Creation. Had no one wondered why she had never replied to the Seeker’s vow of love? Yes, she loved him, strongly and deeply, but not anymore in the way he felt for her. He was her closest companion, closer than a brother, so close that it was hard to put into coherent sentences. But the harsh truth was that she wasn’t in love with him anymore.

Seeing him lying there, killed by her own hand, had ripped her from the Con’Dar. But the same would have happened if it had been her sister, maybe even Zedd… most definitely if it had been… Cara.

Cara. The woman she could never have. The woman she had fallen, so deeply, so endlessly, in love with.

“Why me?” Kahlan whispered, her throat closed off by the tears that dripped down onto the surface of the library table, slipping in–between small cracks and sinking into the dry wood.

She had tried to force herself back into love with Richard, to turn away from the new, glorious feeling that filled her every time the blonde woman was near. Kahlan was playing a role and it was so easy to kiss him, to hold him like before, reacting to every touch and look with a smile. But inside, her soul was breaking apart little by little. And the guilt ate her up alive, swallowing huge chunks of her being and leaving behind agony and bleeding flesh.

Maybe Cara being gone was a sign, for her, to forget. To turn towards the Seeker and bear many, happy children. To fulfill her duty as Confessor and keep the line alive.

Did she have to sacrifice herself for her people, for Richard’s happiness?

Sign or not, she couldn’t help but pray with every fiber of her being that Cara was alive and would come back to her.

Help me, Creator. For this one time I will be selfish and pray for myself…please help me.

Sinking onto the table, both hands wrapped in her tangled hair and shoulders heaving with sobs, Kahlan could only wait and hope.

Please bring her back.

Part 3

It couldn’t be called a staring contest, because one half of the participants was constantly looking away, then back again, away, and back, gaze running around the campsite like a skittish horse, then back.

Cara could remember that once it had been great to be feared, peasants and soldiers alike starting to shake and tremble when she took a step in their line of vision. But there were moments when it was terribly unpractical, even nerve–wracking, because Cara had not given the girl one single, damn reason to be this… restless. On top of that came the fact that her limbs were painful and stiff from the fall yesterday, causing the Mord’Sith to be even more annoyed.

“Would it be possible for you to sit still for at least five minutes?!” she snapped at the girl, who turned rigid in barely a second.

The Mord’Sith was sitting on a log and poking the now useless fire with a stick, while Noa still sat wrapped in her mat, knees pulled against her upper body. Cara could swear that if they both took of their clothes, someone would be able to count every color of the rainbow adorning their beaten bodies. She had redressed Noa’s wounds, but none of them were really life–threatening, just very painful. The worst had been a kick in her stomach and the blow to her neck, which was the reason Noa had become unconscious. A bit more strength in the hit could have broken her neck like a twig.

“…Are you going past Illek?”

The voice dragged Cara out of her reverie and she flicked her gaze at Noa. It had taken the girl quite a bit of courage to actually ask something. “Maybe.” Wherever the hell that is. “Why?”

“I think I can walk. You could drop me off there.”

Raising her eyebrows, Cara held back a dark smirk. “You think I’ll let you travel with me?”

“It’s just two days to the west, that…that’s where you’re going…right? I…I would only come with you until there…I don’t know how to survive in the woods.” Noa hid her mouth and nose behind the cloth of the bed roll, clearly in a miserable state of mind. A halo of tussled blond hair stuck up from her scalp. “I won’t be a burden, promise,” she added quietly and almost to herself.

Puffing out some air, Cara dropped the stick into the fire, watching as the flames licked at the fresh meal. “Whatever. Just don’t drop behind, or I’ll leave you there. We’ll move on after tomorrow.” Standing up in a fluid motion, Cara glanced one last time at Noa, who relaxed slightly at the prospect of not having to walk to Illek alone. Then she strode out of the camp and into the thick undergrowth, needing some time for herself.

She could have marched on today, alone. The bruises were a hindrance, but just a small one, nothing which could stop a Mord’Sith like her from reaching her goal. But she knew that Noa was still exhausted and another day of rest was the least she needed to keep up with Cara’s long steps. Really, there was no need to wait for the kid. But on the other hand, there was no reason not to either, since she was going into that direction anyway.

Great. I’m starting to become like Richard. Next goal, saving a damsel in distress and rescuing kittens from trees. Her face turned sour at that potential prospect and she smoothly pulled out her Agiels to train against invisible opponents, diverting her anger and irritation into harsh blows against trees and strong swipes through imagined enemies. Without a sparring partner, the action was not as fulfilling as she had hoped. After killing what felt like hundreds of imagined, charging figures, she was pleasantly worked out, but her source of annoyance still ghosted around the edge of her conscious as if waiting for the next strike the instant she let her guard down just an inch.

When she came back, Noa was asleep again and not in the mood to hunt, she massaged the muscles of her legs and arms to loosen them. Later the kid woke up for a while and they ate from Cara’s supplies in silence. In the evening Cara brought back another rabbit, shared the meat with the kid and went back into her position against the boulder to drop into a watchful half–sleep. The next day was spent the same way, quietly. But she could feel Noa’s gaze on her most of the time, watching, calculating, confused.

They started early the next morning, the Mord’Sith systematically packed her stuff and ignored Noa, who tested her weight and flexed her limbs after nearly three days of lying around. Cara also inspected her bow and arrows, although they didn’t really need checking, when she saw that the kid needed a few more minutes of walking around. But it was important to keep her things well–maintained and that was the only reason for re–checking the arranging of all the items packed in her sack.

Richard would’ve wanted you to behave this way, if he were here.

The weather was warm and the sky sprinkled with a few wisps of cloud when they marched on. Noa was dressed in a shabby three–quarter pants and a shirt made from rough wool, sufficiently repaired with a needle and thread Cara had pushed into her hands the day before, but walking bare–footed didn’t seem to trouble the girl much. Considering the state of Srath, it was no wonder that the children were used to growing up without shoes. Cara fell into her usual traveling speed and after an hour or two Noa was warmed up enough that she could follow her more or less easily.

Other than a few short words they didn’t talk, but their pace was steady and they covered a lot of ground. In the evening, Cara threw her bedroll into a deeply exhausted Noa’s arms, the force of it causing the kid almost to stumble backwards with a small “Ooof”.

“Have you ever been to Illek?” the older woman asked when stoking the fire.

Noa scratched at an older scab on her right arm and shrugged. “No, I just know the area thanks to my grandma. I have never been away from Srath.”

“Stop that.”

Noa froze. “What?”

“The scratching,” Cara grumbled and placed down the two squirrels she had shot today. Silence loomed again, but Cara could tell that Noa hadn’t listened for the first time, as the scab was gone the next morning, leaving behind a fresh, rosy patch of skin. She didn’t mention it, they just packed their things and moved on.

Generally, the Mord’Sith was bad at discerning different complicated emotions from each other, but there was a subtle ease gradually developing in Noa’s behavior. The blonde kid was still quiet and careful, but she didn’t twitch in fear anymore at every word Cara directed at her and her stance was much more open and relaxed than three days prior. Since they had already been away from Srath about half a day when the Mord’Sith had found her, it only took another half day to reach Illek.

It was just beyond the soft roll of a hill, slightly lower than the rest of the way they had come and actually had two roads leading out of it towards other towns and places. Illek was just barely in a better condition than Srath, although the small village looked a lot more inviting.

Shifting from one foot to the other, Noa, who stood slightly to the right and behind Cara, slowly stepped forward. “Will you go into Illek?”

“Is the left one the road to Vhep?” Cara asked while looking down the hill, ignoring the question at first.

“It should be. It’s going west.”

“Then no. Try not to get pummeled again.” With that she turned to make a bow around the village, steadily slipping down the hill to reach solid ground. Cara could feel Noa’s two–colored gaze following her back for a while, coupled with a stuttering shout of “Thank you!”, but when she turned around at the foot of the hill, Noa was already gone.

That was just well. Now Cara had her freedom and solitude back and she wasn’t required to share her bedroll anymore. With no young, incompetent baggage at her heel, she would cover even more ground in less time in her search for a way back.

There were certain difficulties Cara knew she would be confronted with. First, there was the apparent magic hate that didn’t seem to be restricted to just Srath, considering how things in the country worked. Without magic it would take a lot of time to get back to where she was supposed to be, if the wizard didn’t make something right for once in a while and call her back before that with his own power.

Then there was the aspect of money. She still had a few coins, even in silver and gold, but considering how far her journey might take her even this money would be gone some day, but if need was due… well, she was Mord’Sith. She would take what she wanted.

But finding information about her whereabouts and this land, Darza, was first. Cara realized that she had learned a few useful tricks from Zedd and Kahlan, because two years ago the thought of searching for information in maps and books wouldn’t have crossed her mind. Although she was loath to admit it, it was a easier and quicker way than torturing half a town’s ignorant citizens for it. Less fun, but time–saving and reducing the chance to be cornered by a mob.

Illek fell behind in the distance and soon Cara was surrounded by wilderness again. There was something strange about the villages of Srath and Illek, but the Mord’Sith couldn’t put her finger on it yet. Maybe Vhep would bring a few answers to questions that still evaded her mind. Instead she focused on traveling next to the road, which was less than a pair of grooves in the muddy ground and not very suited for someone without a carriage or horse, forcing her back into the undergrowth of the forest.

It crossed her mind that she should have asked for the number of days it took to reach the town. But turning back seemed just as useless, so the blonde woman walked on and forced herself not to wonder what might be happening there right now.

She was Mord’Sith. She had a purpose to fulfill.

* * * * *

The evening was approaching soon. Cara wondered at the way the light turned to gold at the end of every day, like the air was filling up with honey to sweeten the incoming night. So far the weather had grazed her with sunshine and a clear sky, but there were clouds appearing the later the hour got. She had to force herself to remember that there was no one following her and that she could actually march throughout the night, but three days of dozing in a sitting position entitled her to a full rest.

The silence was grating on her nerves. She didn’t want it to, but after having spent a full year pestered by her three traveling companions nearly from sunrise to sundown, the thought of weeks without company suddenly tasted sour in her mouth. Maybe she would be able to accompany a merchant’s caravan towards the place her research in Vhep would lead her to next, while even making some money by selling them her weapon arm.

Stopping to check her position in the middle of a circle of high trees, a sound in the distance warned her. It was coming from behind her, moving with quick speed and little need for secrecy. Feeling her blood run hotter at the thought of a battle, she slowly drew one of her weapons, the pain quickening her heart beat in the most wonderful of ways. The attacker was drawing nearer, snapping twigs and brushing past bushes with vigor, before erupting out of the tree line in an explosion of ripped off leaves.

Cara held her Agiel at the ready in front of her and was baffled when the supposed attacker dropped to their knees just inches away from the hovering tip.

“Please,” said the figure and Cara finally realized with sudden discomfort that it was Noa, sporting a nice new purple bruise that flared on her right cheekbone, out of breath and with puffy red and panic–filled eyes.

“Please, Mistress Cara,” the kid forced out in the loudest voice Cara had yet heard from her, before the Mord’Sith even got a chance to say something. “Take me with you!”

Ridiculous , Cara thought and it must have shown on her face. Opening her mouth to refuse this unacceptable plea, Noa rambled on anyway with a speed that had the Mord’Sith baffled.

“I won’t be a burden, I swear, and I know useful things, I can cook and mend your things, I know a lot of healing herbs and…and plants, I won’t complain, I’ll sleep on the ground and learn whatever I need to, I’ll be quiet and listen to everything you say, I’ll be a good companion, please, don’t leave me here, ’cause I won’t survive without you!” The kid fell silent, breathing heavily and forcing herself not to cry again.

“What in the underworld did you do in Illek to have them try and beat you to a pulp? Again ?” Cara asked exasperated and dropped the Agiel back to her thigh now that she knew no fight would be coming forth. A part of her was surprised Noa could talk so much without prompting.

“I told you I’m a bad sign! I asked the blacksmith if he needed help and he hit me out of reflex when he saw my eyes, the color… they are scared of me. I managed to run away when he shouted for help, half the village was after me by the time I wasn’t so dizzy anymore. I escaped…I’m a quick runner.” Noa licked her dry lips and staggered to her feet, exhaustion evident in her rusty movements. Cara nearly twitched when Noa suddenly dropped down into a bow. “You’re… you’re…the only one not scared of me!”

Snorting, the blonde woman placed her weapons back while saying, “Mord’Sith are scared of nothing. Especially not of some weird eye color or unlucky marks created by superstition.”

“You’re the only one I can survive with,” there was a sniff from behind the curtain of honey colored hair and Noa quickly wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, “I…don’t have anywhere else to go. I can even read, I’m not stupid. Please, Mistress Cara, don’t leave me here! I promise I won’t be a burden to you!”

“Begging won’t get you anywhere.”

“But…then tell me what you want me to do !” Noa asked desperately in her hunched over form.

Cara sighed warily. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Now what about her full night of rest? What about not sharing her bedroll anymore? On the other hand, not eating the same dried food and unseasoned meat for weeks on end didn’t sound that bad. And to have someone take care of her things and help her search for the information she needed might be useful. Olk had confirmed that no soul in miles was able to rea–… Wait, why was she even thinking about this?

“Get up,” she said in a curt voice. Noa snapped to attention, only wobbling slightly on her feet. Her hope–filled eyes reminded Cara of something… but she was unable to grasp it. Maybe the way she had gazed into the mirror as a kid? Kahlan trying to persuade her to do something that wasn’t in her nature? Or even a combination of both?

A shame. You’ve become so mushy.

Cara shifted her eyes away to the side, gnashing her teeth. “You can cook and read?”

Now she wasn’t able see the sickening happiness and gratitude blossom on Noa’s face. “Yeah.”

“Then follow me. You can be my servant. Don’t dawdle,” and then quickly added after turning around, “we’ll walk until nightfall.” It was unnecessary strain on the already winded kid, but Cara was angry at herself and Kahlan and Richard and the villagers and the world. She wouldn’t have minded the villagers breaking out of the trees, just so that she could hurt somebody. Curse those Midlanders for making her now need a reason to inflict pain!

She forced them to walk until she was sure that her new traveling companion would just drop dead on the spot, but Noa turned out to be much more stubborn than Cara had imagined. So instead they stopped at a clearing the Mord’Sith felt was good for making camp. Noa was as pale as a sheet and her cheek had swollen pretty much during the last hours of daylight, but after one order from the older woman she went to find wood for a fire without complaint. By the looks of it, she was too tired to utter one.

Cara didn’t go hunting and instead gave Noa a piece of bread and some cheese, which the kid swallowed with a look of pain, due to her wounded face. Before Cara could give the kid her bedroll, she saw that the blond girl had fallen asleep sprawled out next to the fire, muttering “…won’t be a burden… pr’mise…” when Cara came near. Leaving the camp unguarded with the threat of angry, possibly searching villagers in the air seemed not the greatest idea, but Cara trusted her warrior instinct to wake her if anything decided to be stupid enough to attack them.

So she spread out the bedroll, laid down for five minutes, shot up again and threw a pebble so hard while cursing her own stupidity that it shot off a piece of bark from a tree. Now she had managed to become a babysitter.

Wonderful job, Cara. Cursing herself in all known languages, she dropped back down to get some rest.

* * * * *

“Shota.”

Kahlan gripped the arms of her chair tighter when she saw the witchwoman strut forward in her fancy, white furs, gasps and whispers all around her. Shota smiled, languidly, and stopped at the same spot all citizens did when baring their troubles to the Mother Confessor, although the proud figure of the witch was a far cry from the friendly, helpless pleading of her general clients.

“Mother Confessor.”

“What do you want?” Kahlan asked in the even, powerful voice of the Confessors, but the witch appeared unfazed. She had to remind herself that in this position and with Shota’s entrance, the woman was a guest of her house just like every other client and that throwing her out with the help of her wizards would bring forth nothing good.

“I have a few things I’d like to tell you and your friends… in private,” she added with a placid look over her shoulder at the people that were still talking under their breath in a hushed tone. “Or maybe you don’t hide matters of personal concern from your underlings?”

“We’ll take in the library,” Kahlan forced out with her chin raised. Nodding at a guard to fetch Richard and Zedd, she send a smile of apology to all those that were still waiting to be heard and implied Shota to follow her.

With both woman dressed in contrasting kinds of pure white, it was a curious sight to behold and many castle residents stopped and stared at the imposing figures walking past them. Still, the difference was in the details. Kahlan walked with her head held high, face blank and shoulders set in a proud, regal position. Shota on the other hand held her head lowered, but was by no means subservient, her wild, mysterious gaze fanning out behind lowered eyelids and hinting of hidden strength. They radiated authority and power in their own, unique way to anyone with the luck of catching a glimpse at their combined image.

There was tense silence, at least for Kahlan, while they waited for the others to arrive. Unheeded by Kahlan’s wary gaze, the witch sauntered between the giant book cases, coming close to several but never touching. At the sound of the door opening, both women turned their heads, watching as Richard and Zedd walked into the library.

“What a surprise to see you again,” the wizard said with a sigh, once he stopped at the table Kahlan was sitting at. Richard took his place behind his love, laying down a warm hand on her shoulder as a greeting.

“I would’ve imagined a warmer welcome than this one,” the witch replied with fake hurt in her voice. Stepping closer to the trio, she could feel the impatience radiating off their frames.

“Speak up, Shota” Richard commanded without preamble.

“As you wish, Seeker.” There was only part humor in her voice when she spoke his title and it was clear that the witch was getting serious. Pacing calmly in front of them, she let her hands glide along the soft fur covering her shoulders. “I come to utter a warning. Call it a friendly advice, if you must, as a thanks for sealing the Keeper for good.”

Not yet sure of her intentions, but knowing that the witch was rarely wrong, Zedd squinted his eyes at her. “What has your vision told you?”

“It has told me something, wizard, that concerns the Mother Confessor and the Seeker of Truth.” Coming to a halt and raising her head in severe warning towards them, Shota grew somber. “If Kahlan Amnell and Richard Rahl decide to lay together, a child will be born without anyone able to prevent it happening. A male Confessor, who will bring fear and devastation to the lands.”

Twin gasps erupted and Richard had to sit down in an empty chair to recover from his shock. Kahlan remembered how he had told her about Nicholas… the child she had born to Darken Rahl. The male Confessor that had caused chaos and mayhem in the non–existent future. What he had told her had been so dreadful, that the thought of another man wielding this power caused a cold feeling to run down her spine.

“Are you saying that there is no way for us to be together without Kahlan bearing another male Confessor?” Richard was close to furious, at Shota and at the fate given to him. There was no peace to be found for their love.

“There is only one in a generation…it… it should be impossible…” the Mother Confessor whispered confused, thinking of Dennee’s child. On one hand she was devastated that she was unable to have her own children with the man she held so dear, but on the other Shota’s vision seemed like the answer to all her prayers. With the witchwoman’s words hanging over their heads, Richard would not dare to come close to her like this. And she wasn’t forced to break either his or her own heart more than already necessary.

Kahlan was unable to decide if she wanted to smile or cry.

“There are stronger forces at work here than that of your Order, Mother Confessor. If Lady Fate decides to turn the threads in her hand this way, then what can we do but follow her lead?” Shota drawled as if she remembered the experience of suffering at the hand of Nicholas, although it had never actually happened. But who knew how much the mysterious woman was aware of the fate she had escaped?

“I don’t believe in prophecies,” Richard snapped at the visitor, causing her to smile at him like she would at a disobedient child.

“And yet you fulfilled each one like a good, little puppy. This is no prophecy I’m speaking of, but if you wish to go against my warning… the blame will be on your hands.” Shota hugged her furs closer to her skin in the chilly atmosphere of the library. “I will seal off my lands and leave you to the mess you made if it ever comes to pass, so don’t come crawling for help.”

“Is this all that you want to tell us or do you carry any further bad news? Despite our victory, this is a difficult time for us,” Zedd interrupted, walking around the table to put a comforting hand on his grandson’s hunched shoulder without looking away from the witchwoman, who was strolling past the bookcases once again.

Shota laughed enchantingly, the echo of her voice filling the big room like the dust particles fluttering in the colored light that filtered through the high windows. “I can imagine. But no, there is nothing more I would like to say, since the knowledge does not belong to your ears…” The gaze she sent over her shoulder was amused. “At least, not the words.”

Kahlan started up in her seat, palms flat against the wooden surface of the table. Her features were livid at being played with in her own realm and house. “This is not the time nor the place to joke around with your meddling mysteries, Shota!”

“Oh, but we all have our little secrets… don’t we ?” And while saying this, Shota reached her hand forward and gently stroked her knuckles across the spine of an old, thick tome, haunting eyes boring into Kahlan’s in a way that told the Confessor that she knew , all of it, from Kahlan’s guilt and confusion towards Richard to the painful, all–consuming love for Cara that filled her soul and being. She felt herself tremble at the realization and fell back into her chair with a helpless whimper, causing the two man to look at her with worry, missing Shota’s piercing look and gesture.

Don’t tell them. Please don’t tell them.

“…But I have done everything I came for and will leave you now to your regular duties, my dear friends . Don’t bother with escorting me, I know my way out,” the witchwoman said offhandedly and vanished into thin smoke the second she was done speaking.

The air was pregnant with implications and when Richard reached forward to encompass Kahlan’s hand in solemn silence, the Mother Confessor flinched at the sudden contact interrupting her from her troubled thoughts. Finding his warm brown eyes, she managed a weak smile at his caring look.

“I’m sorry Kahlan,” he whispered softly to her.

She shook her head at him. “No, don’t be. We knew it wouldn’t be easy from the beginning. It…” Kahlan bit her lip, unable to speak on.

“Do you want me to stay or would you like to think alone for a while?”

This time truly smiling at his compassionate words and ability to know without doubt what was best for her, she squeezed his hand. “I would like some time to order my mind. Thank you.”

Nodding with his lips pressed together, he left his chair, moving out of the library as he had offered. She knew that Shota’s warning had an even heavier impact on him than on her, but she found herself unable to give him the comfort he needed right now with her own insides being dragged into two different directions every moment past awakening.

When she heard Zedd leave in the same direction the Seeker had gone to, she quickly stood back up in her seat. “Zedd, please… wait.”

Turning around with his eyes sad, he opened his arms in a helpless gesture. “Even I am unable to help you in this despite my magical power. I’m sorry, Kahlan.”

“I know. I know… There…is something else.” Striding towards the bookcase with her heart pounding loud enough in her ribs that she imagined the sound reverberating off the stone walls, here fingers gripped the heavy tome only she had seen Shota touch. She stroked the spine in a similar way, all her hopes lying on what she believed was a sign towards her beloved Mord’Sith.

“Zedd… I want you to read this tome. Make it first priority.”

The wizard appeared bemused. “Of course, but… why?”

“Because I hope it brings back Cara,” Kahlan whispered quietly enough that only the spirits themselves were able to decipher her breath.

Part 4

“Pack my things.”

“Run around the camp.”

“Stop twitching, it’s just salve.”

After Cara ran out of instructions and saw that Noa really did everything she said, however unneeded and foolish and without complaint or hesitation, ordering the kid around soon lost its fun. Once they broke camp, Noa told her after being questioned that she had been afraid to enter Illek at first after parting ways with the Mord’Sith, thus lagging behind for quite some time. After having been attacked by the villagers, Noa had ran straight into the direction of Vhep she concluded Cara was headed toward. By blind luck she had managed to find the older woman, running through the woods from Illek to the point where Cara had stopped.

“You caught up to me by running almost four hours straight?”

“Yeah,” Noa murmured without pride, the exhaustion of the run and the strain from the bruises making her almost lethargic during Cara’s strict march. She had no energy to say more than necessary.

“Impressive, for a kid your age,” Cara said offhandedly, slowing down to check the time and whether they were keeping to the right track or already walking in a circle.

“I’m used to running away.” The girl tried to hide a yawn behind her hand, looking quite ridiculous with Cara’s backpack adorning her thin frame. “If I hid, they’d find me anyway.” She rubbed her green eye tiredly, waiting until Cara had found the best way through the undulating landscape they were passing through.

“What is it with those ‘bad signs’ anyway? Who invented this…this superstitious nonsense?”

Noa shrugged. “I guess someone from a few generations ago. Everyone that is very strongly touched by magic becomes a bad sign…” Grunting, she scrambled over a line of rocks that Cara had simply jumped over. “And bad signs bring bad luck and horrible incidents to the people around them. Most are killed after birth… children like me or with other disabilities, twins… simply everyone who’s not natural.”

Not paying attention for a second, Noa slammed face–first into the leather clad side of the Mord’Sith with a surprised squeak. Cara had halted and now looked down at her incredulously.

“Those things are natural, if maybe uncommon. Are your people stupid?”

The kid rubbed her stubbed nose with a frown. “They aren’t my people. I wasn’t born here, remember?”

“Oh,” Cara replied with zero interest, “I forgot.” She turned and walked on, leaving Noa to catch up in a hurry.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did,” Cara deadpanned. “But if you have to.”

“Why do you wear red leather?”

“Because I’m Mord’Sith.”

“What’s a Mord’Sith?”

“That’s the third ‘a question’ you’re asking.” In the corner of her vision the blonde woman could see how Noa opened and closed her mouth in frustration, then brooded in silence. Obviously the girl had lost a lot of her initial fear of the Mord’Sith, but still obeyed the woman with what had turned into awe and a healthy dose of thankfulness. So whenever Cara shot the girl down with a pungent comment, Noa got the hint and stayed quiet.

Heaving a deep sigh, Cara decided to be helpful for once and started explaining what being a Mord’Sith meant. When she realized that maybe it hadn’t been the best subject to talk about, it was already too late. Afterwards, Noa turned an even paler shade and withheld any further questions she might have wanted to ask.

Well, she ‘did’ want to know, her mind tried defending itself against a reprimanding Kahlan, the picture of the Mother Confessor with her head turned and both eyebrows raised quite vivid in her mind. She got beaten enough times, she can stomach it.

In the evening, Noa was out like a light again within minutes after setting camp. If they kept to this pace, Cara guessed that they would reach Vhep in another six or seven days. The only downside was that the quick march tired the injured girl out so much that she had yet to display her cooking abilities. And with two people to feed, the supplies from Srath were already almost gone. The herbs were untouched, though.

On the seventh morning they started an hour later than the last few ones. Noa’s cheek and neck were turning from dusky purple to dirty yellow and she had dark bags under her eyes, but still walked on without complaint.

Cara finally admitted to herself that the girl wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer and that she was running her ragged, so instead of moving the whole day they stopped for a short rest every two hours. When Noa realized why they were stopping so often, she bit her lip in silent guilt, conveying her thanks by sitting completely still for the first time when Cara checked her wounds in the evening and by cooking a simple, hot soup made from roots she had found during one of the breaks. It was a welcome change to their normal food and encouraged the older woman in her decision to let the kid rest more often.

It was after noon the next day when they found a stream that was bigger than the small trickles they used to wash their faces in and to refill the waterskin. In dire need of a bath, Cara hid their pack in a bush near the shore and instructed Noa how to undo the lacing on her leathers. The first step into the cleansing liquid caused them both to shiver, as the stream was filled with defrosted water from atop the hills, crystal clear and refreshingly cold.

While scrubbing herself off, Cara caught Noa watching a spot on her hip with an open mouth. “What?”

“That’s…a big scar,” the kid said surprised. Twisting her head to see what Noa was talking about, Cara dragged her gaze along the inches long scar with nostalgia.

“It’s from a knife, a dying soldier managed to hit me while I was fighting off two more. It didn’t heal well.”

“I have one, too.” Happy that she had found something to share with her traveling companion, Noa turned around and pointed to an thin, but ugly zig–zagging scar on her shoulder blade. “It’s from a vase one of the older women threw at me when I asked for a piece of pie she had made. I was scared to come home after getting hit, because grandma had told me not to go into the village that day, so it got infected.”

“The woman that raised you…she was the town’s healer?”

Noa nodded, turning back around and watching the glittering water play between her spread fingers. “Yeah.” The clear liquid was beautiful to look at, the sun creating mesmerizing fragments of captured light on the surface and the intense, blue sky was bordered by a ring of freshly grown tree crowns, most leaves still shining in their budding light green. But Noa’s gaze was not in the here and now.

Seeing that the child was getting sad with the memories of her dead family member, Cara quickly changed the subject to the first thing that entered her mind. Emotional outlets were the last thing she needed. “Do you have any battle scars?”

Blinking and holding up her left arm, Noa showed the damaged skin on her elbow. “That happened when I didn’t run away from the village kids. They taunted me all the time and I got angry… but they were too many and I tried to protect myself with my arms.”

The blonde woman snapped her mouth shut before she could utter that this hardly counted as a battle scar, but then thought twice. The kid was eight years old and the scars looked old… and due the way that Noa stood, Cara could see the faint outline of whip scars criss–crossing along her spine.

I could have gotten stuck with worse children than her. “Pain is a good teacher,” she replied instead when finding herself at a loss for words. Dunking her head underwater, she remained there for a moment, before the almost freezing temperature forced her back up again. The warm sun felt wonderful on her cool skin and she closed her eyes towards the round orb of fire, slicking back her hair.

“Is that a scar, too?!” she suddenly heard Noa utter in awe.

Cara raised an eyebrow and opened her eyes to see where the girl was pointing. It was her neck. Grabbing the skin with a cold hand, she remembered the thin, white scar that remained after she had been brought back as a baneling… after she had been killed with a knife. A knife cutting her throat. “Yes.” Her voice was curt, those memories weren’t fond ones. “Let’s get out of the water.”

Noa’s lips were already turning blue and she was chattering, so she didn’t complain when they hastened out of the stream. Cara ordered Noa to wash their clothes and scrub off her leathers while she herself sat down on a stone that reached into the water, drying in the sun. At Noa’s call, they dressed and hastened on.

Today the girl cooked some sort of stew with the meat Cara brought after the hunt. Sitting down near the fire on opposite sides, the Mord’Sith laid the Agiels down into her lap and watched the play of the flames until Noa held out the bowl filled with her portion of the meal. With just one set of cooking utensils they were forced to share, so while Cara was eating, Noa dragged her knees close and nibbled on the heel of the bread. The older woman spotted a couple of foreign herbs lying out in a neat row next to the girl.

“What’s that?”

Following Cara’s gaze, Noa mumbled around a mouthful of bread, “A few healing herbs I found. Some for disinfection, some for cleansing the blood… and a root to settle an upset stomach.” She swallowed. “I don’t think I ever used that one.”

Chewing in thought before replying, the Mord’Sith tilted her head slightly. “Are they rare enough to sell?”

A shrug followed. “I’ve never been to the city… no idea if they need them. But in Srath no one was interested in learning the healing qualities of the plants because it could be magic business.”

“Let me guess, in the end they still came running every time they had a cold or an infected wound?” At the girl’s nod, Cara smirked wryly. “Try to find some more of those anyway. Maybe the citizens aren’t as foolish as the peasantry.”

“You think we’ll be there soon?”

Reaching forward to give Noa the now empty bowl, Cara pursed her lips in thought. “I believe we’ll reach Vhep in about four days. Try not to break anything on yourself to slow us down until then.”

“Will do,” Noa said earnestly while stuffing herself with the food, causing the older woman to roll her eyes. The small one tended to eat like a slob and an animal rolled into one. “I mean, I won’t! Or…will?…”

“Get some sleep, kid,” she grumbled back and turned over to make herself comfortable. Spirits forbid that the kid to turns into a rambler.

* * * * *

Their luck ran out on the tenth night. After several days of sun, thick gray clouds gathered during the afternoon, pushing themselves between the blue sky and the lush forest below. Within hours the degrees fell and the air turned colder, the first breezes of a harsh wind nipping at them. Noa started freezing in her thin clothes, wrapping her arms around herself to fend of the chill. Because of the rapidly fading light, Cara decided to stop for an early rest under the roof of a close growing group of pine trees. If it rained, they had good chances of staying dry beneath them.

Their meals now consisted mostly of meat and eatable plants that Noa spotted during their journey, having eaten the last of the supplies the day before. Cara hoped to reach the city soon, since they were in dire need of restocking.

The wood turned silent after the meal when they went to sleep and the only sound was the rumble of an approaching storm in the distance, joined soon by the steady barreling of rain drops that pelted the ground. There were some flashes of light and more rumbling, but the worst of the storm passed them by. The scent of fresh rain drenching warm soil filled their noses. The air turned even colder.

Soon half–asleep thanks to the soothing rhythm the rainfall created, Cara only realized someone was crawling near her when said person was almost close enough to touch her shoulder. She snapped awake, snatching the kid’s wrist in a death grip and forcing herself to relax at the resulting, familiar yelp.

“Do you have a death wish?” she hissed at the wincing girl. “Don’t touch me without warning!”

“S–sorry,” Noa ground out, rubbing the damaged appendage. “I sh–should have called your n–name first.”

“Why are you waking me?” Forcing herself up on her elbows and shooting her an annoyed look, she saw that Noa was shivering from head to toe, the fire nearly dead due to a small trickle of water that had found its way into the groove from outside the shelter.

“I’m s–so cold. Can I s–sleep near you?” The girl tried very hard to keep her chattering to a minimum, but her muscles twitched anyway, beyond her control. With only one bedroll, which Cara was occupying, the quickly cooling ground and air drew the heat from her body without mercy.

Grimacing at the question, Cara considered giving her bedroll up to dodge the need of sharing it, but she knew that the cold would get to her, too. Not that she wouldn’t be able to handle it, but freezing throughout the night if instead she could have it warm and comfortable was quite unnecessary. With a roll of her eyes she moved over to offer some space on the cloth underneath her body, pulling out her Agiels and laying them to the side. “If you kick me, I’ll throw you out into the rain. Got that?”

“Got that,” Noa mumbled meekly, crawling next to the older woman and curling up beside her.

Trying to find some rest with the unfamiliar feeling of a small body against her side, the Mord’Sith watched the darkness over her eyes, which sometimes turned into a green maze of pine twigs when the blaze of lightning traveled through the night. Soon though, the warmth created near her flesh made her sleepy, causing her eyelids to drop while her own heartbeat was accompanied by the soft growl of distant thunder. Her sleep was deep.

The awakening was… strange. When her eyelids flickered open, her senses teased awake by the play of the morning light breaking through the last traces of clouds, she felt a curious sensation of calm and peace. Cara felt warm, not only on her skin but deeper. A memory resurfaced in her mind, unclear and surprising, like spotting a twirling fish beneath the glittering surface of water. She remembered holding on to her father while the sun shone down on them, raising them from their nap in the corn field.

For long moments, Cara found herself in innocent awe at the memory and the feeling. Sounds of the forest whispered past her ears. Then she slowly became aware of the arm curled over her stomach and the face pressed into her ribs. With the air still chilly and fresh from the rain, Noa’s body heat was like hugging a sack with glowing coals. Raising her arm, Cara looked at the slumbering kid with a conflicted expression, not knowing what to think or how to act.

In the end she managed to disentangle herself from her young travel companion without waking her, snagged her Agiels and walked out into the wet forest to sort out her confused thoughts.

When she returned, composed and ignorant as usual, what she found was a neatly tidied up camp and a cold breakfast waiting for her. Noa sat ready to go in front of their packed belongings, munching her portion and looking healthier than ever since the first day Cara had found her in the clearing.

“Look, Cara,” the kid shouted when she spotted the red clad woman in the distance, “I found tickle berries!”

“You found berries,” the Mord’Sith said dryly with her hands placed on her hips. “How very fortunate.”

“They contain high acid and sting on the tongue, that’s why no one eats them. But they are actually very healthy,” Noa lectured. She held up her hand, showing Cara the light green balls in her palm. “Try them.”

“I prefer meat.”

“But they’ll keep you sated for a long time.”

“Fine,” the older woman growled and grabbed the berries. They were quite large, almost as thick as her thumb and the texture reminded her of bananas. The tickle berries slightly burned the mucous membranes in her mouth, but they were quite good after the sting had faded. “They taste like the peaches from South D’Hara… crossed with cherries,” she murmured to herself.

Noa tilted her head quizzically. “Where’s D’Hara? Were you born there?”

Cara chewed the berries while motioning for Noa to get going. “Yes, I was born there. But I don’t have even one tiny inkling where D’Hara might be in this creator–forsaken land, hence our journey to Vhep.” Frustration seeped into her voice.

That in turn confused the girl even more. “But you came from there. How can you not know where it is?”

“Just for the record, thanks to a wizard that I’d really like to strangle, I fell out of what I guess was a similar portal to the one that send you here. So I think that enables me to say I don’t know where it is,” Cara explained exasperated.

“You did?” The kid sounded extremely shocked behind her back about that news. There was stunned silence for a few seconds. “Cara, what’s a wizard?”

“…Stop pestering me!”

“S’rry.”

They trudged on in what was their special kind of companionable quiet.

Part 5

“This is Vhep?” Cara asked incredulously when staring down at what Olk had called the city. “This is barely more than the bunch of houses in Illek!”

When imagining a city, the Mord’Sith thought of large buildings and imposing churches, wide streets and narrow alleys. There were tall walls encircling the living parameter, a gigantic manor or castle overlooking everything from the center or the top of a hill. The paved streets would be crowded and filled with merchants, visitors, citizens. But this… this was a joke.

No castle. No paved streets. Here the buildings were sturdy and simple and the man–high pile of bricks surrounding them could hardly be called a city wall. At least there was a gate guarded by two men that Cara could have knocked down half–dead and with bound wrists. Blindly. While a thin trickle of figures left and entered Vhep steadily, she would’ve guessed the total headcount of inhabitants to revolve around two, maybe three thousand, barely passing the description ‘village’ and hardly deserving the title ‘town’.

“Tell me this is just the prelude to the city somewhere further west.”

“I fear this is Vhep,” Noa declared uneasily, shifting from one foot to the other. Compared to the older woman she was quite in awe of what was at least five times bigger than the village she grew up in.

Great. Pinching the bridge of her nose while flaring her nostrils, Cara tried not to scream at having not only landed in the middle of nowhere, but also in a place that was so rudimentary she wondered if they had even heard of writing down history or books. Unfortunately, the only way to find out was to go down there and find something resembling a library, otherwise they had walked nearly 400 miles for nothing.

“Cara, uh… I should wait here. I don’t think it will help if they see you traveling with a bad sign.”

“There’s an easy solution for that. Can you act?” Reaching behind Noa to pull out a long bandage, she held it in front of the girl’s eyes until comprehension dawned in the bi–colored irises.

Her stride conveyed the blonde woman’s anger about her predicament, but she was still inwardly stunned at the not so subtle way the guards nearly dropped their lances in surprise when spotting her. Did someone finally remember the threat a Mord’Sith portrayed or was an enraged woman dressed in red leather so unusual to their daily routine that they had to pick their jaws from the floor? The strange looks and shock followed her into the city, with people stopping and staring openly at her whichever way she turned. A patrol came close to fainting when they asked him for the way to the town center and the place where they kept the records.

“Do I have something in my face or why is everyone staring at me as if I’m a civilized gar?”

“No, it’s…uh… I’ll tell you later. Don’t worry, they won’t attack you,” the girl tried to assure her, while adjusting the bandage covering her blue eye. Noa was walking closely behind Cara, uncomfortable with the attention and scared at being found out every minute.

Huffing at this vague statement, the older woman found her attention nonetheless sidetracking when they stepped into the town square. There was a larger building directly in front of them and they hastened across to escape the gawking city folk. Finally away from the mass of people, Noa breathed a sigh of relief. The entry hall they were standing in was cool and dry and Cara quickly stepped close to an official looking person, intending to get her information as fast as possible…

“Do you have records about the surrounding land in here?”

The older man blinked, flabbergasted. “Y–yes, but…”

“Is it open for viewing by visitors?” Cara cut him off impatiently.

“N–no, it’s…”

A small silver coin was slammed onto the wooden desk he was standing behind, the action halting his words again. He blinked twice.

“Is it open now?” she asked him in a succinct tone, while her gaze already cut him into plum–sized pieces.

“Uhm, yes. Yes, definitely. Just follow the stairs to the second floor, behind the set of doors. Ask if you’ll need anything,” he quickly replied, suddenly the very definition of professionalism. The coin vanished inside his long sleeves and conjured a pleasant smile onto his face when they left him, oblivious to the fact that he’d just slipped past getting beaten by a hair’s breadth.

The odor of parchment, ink and dust assaulted their senses when they entered the tall room. There were no windows, only the flames of tallow candles a good distance away from the shelves and placed safely inside iron halters offered enough light. Letting her vision travel past several bookcases, Cara realized with chagrin that it wasn’t even a close comparison to the libraries Cara had visited during her life in D’Hara. Even the volumes here were coarse, as if the people hadn’t yet fully grasped the concept of bookmaking.

This is a depressing outlook. “Let’s start. If you find something about a place called the Midlands or how to get away from here, call for me.”

So they set out to work. Noa really tried her best to stay focused, but after three hours of searching through dozens and dozens of tomes containing numbers made on the market or the income of the harvest, even her interest and patience were reduced to creating dog ears or boring little holes in the wood of the table with her finger nail. She was tired and guessed that the time was getting late, too.

“Can’t we go on tomorrow?” she prodded carefully after Cara slammed another book shut with a frustrated growl.

“This is pointless! We’re going to spend days going through this rubbish, if there even is anything to be found!” Sitting up with enough force to almost tilt the heavy chair, the Mord’Sith grabbed her lantern and stomped towards the doors. “Get up, we’ll find a tavern.”

Cara choose the next best location, the ‘Staggering Guard’ that resided in the same town square as the record building they left. It was already dark and the lively shine that pooled out under the door and window shutters called out to them, as well as the promise of a hot meal not containing cooked roots. Again the atmosphere turned somewhat dour when the merry inhabitants took notice of the two.

Cara sat down at a free table in the corner, placing a copper coin in Noa’s hand. “Get us something to drink, eat and a room to sleep in. And tell him to hurry.” With the girl gone, she resumed staring down everyone that had the guts to gap at her, until all men returned to what they had done before, chattering and drinking in their rowdy nature. At least this time the tavern didn’t raise the constant need in her to wipe her leathers clean after touching anything.

Letting her thoughts run free, she leaned back on the bank and against the wall, watching as Noa talked to the man behind the bar. The kid had a serious and grave look on her face while speaking to the much taller, gruff man. Cara lowered her eyes at them. Something was strange, as the longer Noa talked, the less the supposed landlord wiped the counter, turning paler by the second. When all color had left his cheeks, he wordlessly handed a timidly smiling Noa a loaf of bread, her smile turning into a grin once her back was turned towards him.

“What was that about?” Cara asked slowly, when Noa sat down on a seat across from her.

“He asked how I lost my eye. I told him.” She ripped off a mouth sized piece, offering the rest to her travel companion.

The older woman raised her eyebrow. “Looks as if you turned creative over there. He just poured himself a drink.”

Noa’s grin turned sneaky and it dawned on Cara that she was seeing the girl smile for the first time. It was cute, cheeky and cattish, with sharp, small teeth and pointy canines that made her look remotely like a cross between a fox and a cat, highlighting the pale freckles covering her sun–tanned skin. Only a faint yellow color was left from her fading bruises. For the second time Cara felt herself reminded of something when looking at Noa, but was unable to pinpoint what. Maybe it was the same childish look Richard sported every time he acted ten years his junior?

The barmaid interrupted her brooding. “What can I get you?” The young woman watched the Mord’Sith with wariness.

“Something warm to eat. And cider for me.”

“I’ll have the sa–…”

“Don’t even think about it.”

Noa pouted. “Milk, please.”

In a hurry to get out of the tavern room and into the solitude of their own, they didn’t dawdle long after eating, following the landlord up the stairs. He showed them were they stayed and, before leaving, patted the girl on the head, causing Cara to roll her eyes and Noa to scrunch up her face. Finally alone, they sat down on each bed.

“They don’t know Mord’Sith here, do they?” the red–clad woman said wearily, placing one foot on the bed and her wrist atop the knee. She had never dared to believe that being away from everything you knew could be such a strain on the nerves… and she thought that joining the merry group under Richard had been a heavy change.

The girl shook her head, wrapping herself in the blanket while staying seated. “No, but there is a story they tell the children if they misbehave. I guess that’s why they look at you so strangely. It’s about the Red Ladies, who come for you if you disobey your parents to take you away to a dark place deep down in the earth.” Looking out the opened window, the girl chewed her lip.

Cara felt the hair rising on her neck, not out of fear, but with a heavy sense of foreboding. “You know something about Dazra, don’t you? What did your grandmother tell you?” she asked carefully, staring intensely at the child in front of her.

Worrying her lip for another second or two, the girl slowly dragged down the bandage over her head, the lid covering the blue iris moving rapidly after hours of disuse. It was clear that Noa was afraid she would get scolded and beaten for not disclosing what she knew, hence her hesitation.

“Tell me.” There was a warning in Cara’s voice.

“I–I only remembered today while reading the books, I swear! If I had remembered sooner I would’ve told you.” Seeing that Cara was not only growing angry, but impatient too, she quickly went on. “It’s the story how Darza came to be, more or less.”

Licking her lips, Noa forced herself to remember the vague memories, but the more she talked, the easier they came back, as if having waited all this time to be spoken out aloud. “There was a cold–hearted ruler once, who took a lot of prisoners and send them through a portal so that they would be trapped forever in another world. It was a punishment…or a sign for others to not disobey him, I don’t know. My grandma’s grandfather was the son of the first younger settlers. This land was uninhabited, so all they could do was try to survive…that was many, many years ago, I guess.”

The Mord’Sith felt faint at this revelation and tensed her jaw until her teeth hurt and she felt grounded again. “We’re in another world. That’s the reason why there are no cities other than Vhep.” Noa flinched when the blonde woman slammed her hand down on the bedside cabinet. “That wizard, I’ll fed him his own entrails until he begs me to end him!”

“M–maybe if he sent you here, he can also get you back?” Noa offered feebly. She could feel the tension and violence radiating off of the blonde and it scared her enough that she curled in on herself, trying to avoid being the target.

“If he doesn’t, I’ll force my way out of the underworld just to haunt him for the rest of his days and beyond.” Grabbing her Agiel and seeking comfort in the steady, piercing pain, she forced herself to breath deeply and calm down. It only worked partly. The raging anger that twisted inside of her entrails was still there, just more subdued. “Anything else I need to know?” she forced out, not focusing on the girl but on her current predicament…or better yet, her disaster.

“I guess the magic hate comes from the fact that the first ones were forced here… grandma’s ancestor was a scholar, which is the reason why she hasn’t been as superstitious as the other people and learned how to cure people and use the plants in this world.” She swallowed. “I always thought they were just stories, but with you here, it suddenly makes sense,” Noa whispered almost to herself.

“So that means there is no current magic user in all of Dazra?” There was no need to see Noa’s shake of her head, she already knew the answer. Standing up to march up and down the room, Agiel held firmly in her left hand, Cara tried furiously to think of a solution to her problem. “I’m stuck in a primeval world without any form or kind of magic to bring me back home, needing to rely on that old magic fool to get me out of here.” The Mord’Sith was close to punching the wall in rage. “Which essentially means I’m doomed.”

Out of options to help, Noa could only watch with fearful eyes as the red clad woman made her turns, on each round praying that the older one would not remember her and turn around to unravel her anger. Her wounds were close to being healed fully and she had been looking forward with childish joy to the day she would not sport any kind of man–made mark on her body since as far as she was able to remember. This small but important dream she had since Cara had accepted her as servant was coming very close to bursting with the Mord’Sith so unhinged. If there was one thing Noa knew about people, then it was the point where violence came close to boiling over.

But she hadn’t experienced a Mord’Sith and their iron control over emotions before, so when the dangerous edge of rage pulsing aggressively through the air dissipated into a lingering taste of frustration, Noa was wane to ease the pressure on her chest that appeared every time she was close to getting hit. Nervously, she dragged in a small, hasty breath of air.

Cara stood at the window, arms crossed and body in its usual attentive and rigid state, yet calm again. Her pale green gaze swept sightlessly over the houses and hills outside the room.

Swallowing down the dryness in her throat and trying to get her triple beating heart under control, another memory jumped into place while she watched the blonde standing. “There…is some magic in this world… but…I guess it isn’t helpful,” Noa said, testing the water despite still being terrified. She hadn’t been beaten, yet.

“Which would be?” Cara asked in her usual monotone drawl, tinted with annoyance and impatience. “Trick shows for children?”

Shuffling closer in her blanket, Noa pointed a thin arm at the tall mountain range in the far distance that they had been walking alongside the last weeks. The shadowy peaks looked haunted and jarring from their vantage point, the almost filled, pale moon creating a strange distorted view. “It’s called the Dead Wall. This is where the Dry Storms come from and where the Aphotics live.”

“Tell me about it,” Cara ordered, her eyes grazing the dark, unwelcoming giants. It would take months to reach them…

“I just know that it’s a very dangerous place, because they tell that the Aphotics attack any human on sight. I don’t know much… the villagers often argued about them and the fact that they were responsible for the earlier shortness of mines and metal.”

That explains the need they have for the unalloyed coins. They have enough metal to live, but it’s a pain to get it. “What about the Dry Storms?”

“It’s a storm that appears without warning a few times every year. It…doesn’t destroy anything or bring rain. It’s hard to explain… the Dry Storm is like a huge cloud of colored dust and lightning that sweeps across the land and makes almost everyone feel ill and strange.” The girl scratched her nose. “The last one was about a month ago. In the village they believe it’s a punishment of the Goddess, but grandma said that’s rubbish.”

They even believe in the Creator and I would bet my leathers that they know of the Keeper, too. They really are from our world, but the years changed the knowledge they brought with them. She was sure that Zedd would be overjoyed about the information he could glean from this land. Maybe she could carve it into his skin once she was back. Really, which sane human being would have the great idea to open a portal as easily influenced by magic as the one he created? That senile dumbass.

“We’ll search the library again in the morning.” The cool tone told Noa that it was time to shut up and go to bed, which she did without protest. Sleeping on a bed filled with hay was a nice change after laying so many days in the woods on the hard ground. Soon the tiny bundle made of girl and blanket was slumbering deeply.

Cara was not so lucky. She stood at the window and watched the faces of her friends pass through her mind until the night’s darkness receded and she slammed the stoic mask back over her troubled emotions.

* * * * *

The blonde woman haunted her. All of her Confessor training was useless when she felt the hurt emit from the deep, bleeding wound that Cara’s absence had created in her heart, there was nothing she could do but distract herself from remembering. And it was hard not to remember. So many things triggered what was past, most off them small and simple, even day–to–day actions conjured up images in the Confessor’s mind. Memories of the time spent at the camp or the rush of fighting their enemies in perfect harmony, walking alongside through the woods or waking up to a prodding foot nudging her in the ribs. But almost constantly Kahlan grew reminiscent of Cara’s amused twitch of lips, her haughty smirk and above all, the beautiful, vulnerable smile that Kahlan wanted believe only she had been privy to.

It strengthened her resolve and kept her from crashing every time she felt weak.

Holding tight onto one of these pictures in her mind, she threw open the door to Zedd’s room after knocking.

“This book, Kahlan, is the answer to all our questions! How did you know it was the right one?”

“Call it woman’s intuition,” the Mother Confessor replied with a secretive smile and a breath of relief. Walking closer to the wizard, Kahlan gazed over his shoulder at the open pages, quietly agitated. “What does it say?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Zedd asked with his bushy eyebrows raised in surprise.

Smirking awkwardly, her embarrassment coloring her cheeks, Kahlan shook her head. “It was just a hunch.”

“Well, then let me tell you this. The tome you see before you is about a very interesting subject called…” he flipped the heavy book around, showing her the title etched into the leather.

“Dazrodha – The Plane of Storm,” Kahlan read out loud, eyes flicking across the imposing letters with wonder.

“Yes, and this is the very plane that Cara is caught in at the moment. But with the good news there came some problems…”

Interrupting him with a quivering, hope–filled voice, she clutched daintily at his wrist. “You mean she’s alive?”

“This is what my spell told me.” Returning her bright, full smile with one of his own, he opened the book back on the page he had been working on. “But, here, listen to this. The tome is a collection of research reports made by several wizards throughout the years and this entry is one of the more notable ones: ‘The most curious thing about the Plane of Storm is its apparent unstable factor of time. Compared to our time–line of one year, there could have either passed ten summers in Dazrodha or mere minutes. It ensures that the travel by portal requires a lot of energy and talent.’”

“What does that mean for us?” A touch of fear crept up her spine.

“It means that I can’t just merely open a simple portal to Dazrodha without the right precautions. I don’t only have to be aware where to do so, but I also have to watch out when I open it.”

Resuming her pacing, Kahlan wrung her hands. “You mean she could be there since ten years already? Even though for us it has been only two months?”

“Quite correct, that is if I don’t calculate my magic correctly. If everything works well, we will be able to find Cara and then endure her crabby mood of having had to wait in an unknown place for several hours.” Smirking at that image and realizing that he was missing the sarcastic Mord’Sith much more than expected, Zedd went back to scanning the pages.

“Is there any way I can help?” It was driving the Confessor crazy to sit around and behave like everything was normal, when on the inside she was ready to have a nervous breakdown. Actually, the mental collapse was long overdue, but the prospect that Cara might be back safely soon calmed her nerves a considerable deal and she was ready to mobilize her last resources to get the blonde woman home.

There was no way she could relax until Cara was back in her sight.

“I still need to figure out the details to this trip and I assume it will be physically and mentally draining for us all. I suggest you rest until all my preparations are done.”

Kahlan sighed, leaving her friend to his work. Of course, it was only natural that she was unable to help a wizard with his magical preparations. She had to ask anyway, but with her hopes of getting distracted with helping dampened, she resigned herself to waiting another few long and agonizing days. Strangely enough, now that the option of sharing Richard’s bed was out of the question, the two of them had an easier time around each other than straight after the disclosure at the Pillars of Creation.

Maybe they had gotten so used to the platonic relationship that the change to a full, possibly physical one felt awkward, maybe even so much that the feeling of love between them would shift into the one shared between best friends. But she knew it was a hopeless wish, as she could feel the depth of Richard’s adoration for her every time he pulled her close to bury his nose in her hair. Oh, if I could just return my feelings to the day I fell in love with him! How much easier would my life be? Even with the threath of a male child…

But even with her whole being reversed back to that moment, Kahlan knew that with given time she would fall for the blonde woman unknowingly owning her soul all over again. As long as Cara existed in her memories, Richard would always fall one step short.

It pained her again and again every time she thought about it. It wasn’t fair to the sweet being that was Richard that she was drifting away from him more and more, drawn by someone so far out of her reach it equaled impossible.

Especially since there was even less chance to be with a Mord’Sith, even if the woman in question was interested in returning her feelings. The notion seemed ridiculous, however much Kahlan yearned for it. Her status, her duty, her power, everything screamed at her to harden her heart and face reality. Whichever way she turned it…

Cara and her could never be.

Part 6

They spent three more days in the record building with no one questioning their behaviour or wondering why two strangers searched their inventory of books excessively, since there were no valuables or important secrets that could be stolen. And while most people needed an official allowance to enter the library, it was generally a simple affirmation given by the city head. As it turned out, Cara had bribed his secretary. The city head himself never showed up.

On the second day they managed to sell some of Noa’s dried plants to the local herb woman, earning carved wood coins in return. Afterwards Noa told her that she knew at least thrice the amount of plants than the so–called herb woman, for the first time proud of being able to acknowledge her skill. Cara asked in return if she was able to survive in the woods for three full days without help and that shut the girl up pretty quickly. One upside was that the citizens finally stopped staring at them at every point of the way, slowly getting used to the fact that a woman in red leather ran around in their district without snatching away their children.

Noa managed to confuse the tavern owner on the morning of the third day after the two came down to fetch their meals, which they always ate in the library.

“That your kid?” he asked Cara in a rumbly, but friendly voice, starting to warm up to the dangerous looking woman, when he placed the bread and cheese in front of their noses.

“She’s my servant,” the Mord’Sith stated matter of factly, earning her a dumb look from the bearded man.

“But she’s a youngster!” he exclaimed, confused, then shifted his look down to the already munching smaller blonde. He paused. “Wait, wasn’t your right eye hurt?” he asked even more puzzled.

Noa chewed wordlessly, the act of childish and pure innocence enhanced by the soft blue twinkling of her eye.

“Maybe you should lay off the booze,” Cara lazily shot inbetween, grabbing her meal and leaving the tavern with a huff. Noa smiled prettily at the confused owner, before quickly catching up, leaving him to scratch his head in wonder but without mentioning the subject again.

The older woman had become strangely quiet since their discussion that one night, wordlessly thumping through the books and not even raising her ire when they found nothing useful. But their persistance was rewarded with passages of a text written by the first settlers on thick pergament, after the now long deceased had finally succeded in building a place to live in. What they managed to extract was that a Rahl had been responsible for the Darzan’s predicament of being stuck in an empty world, which didn’t surprise Cara in the least. Figures, she thought. I wonder which one had the bright idea of literally solving his problem by sending it out of the world.

Now, with their search nearing its end, Cara felt both floored and elated, having conducted a plan on what to do next. She would be damned to just sit here in the city and grow weak if she could also get out there and do something, however useless it might turn out to be. The Dead Wall, as Noa had called it, was attracting her like a flame the moth as a last chance of finding a way home.

So when days later she saddled her freshly bought horses, one for riding, one for supplies, the last thing she needed was a happy blonde girl strolling into the stables. Noa had lost much of her fear of wandering around alone now that people weren’t constantly scared of her, growing almost daring by switching her bandage around once again, successfully hiding the blue iris behind the rough cotton. This time the tavern owner had really been so hung over that he didn’t question the switch, placing it on his befuddled memory.

“What are you doing?” Noa was smiling, both hands behind her back and body swaying from side to side in a curious motion. “Are we leaving again?”

“I’m leaving.” She looked pointedly at Noa. “You will stay here. I talked to Baltar, the owner, you can work for him.” With that she turned back to the buckle she was working on, missing the color leaving the girl’s face.

“No way,” she said, almost breathless in shock. “I’m going with you…it’s not like I’m save here!”

“If you’d stop showing both your eyes in public, no one cares about the fact that you’re a bad sign. They don’t even know it. You are useless to me where I’m going.”

“I’m sure I can be of some use… Cara, you can’t leave me here.” The voice was desperate and Cara dragged at the buckle more forcefully, earning her an annoyed whine from the horse.

“It’s final, stop complaining. I’m not taking you with me.” Making the mistake of turning around, she saw the sudden and earnest determination that had taken hold of Noa’s features. “You’ll be a burden.”

“Than teach me how to be more useful.”

Cara canned her head, taking a slow step towards the girl. “I don’t have time to play teacher.”

“I’ll learn quickly,” Noa replied in a haste, still standing firmly with spread legs.

“No.”

“Then I’ll go anyway!” The green eye showed fear and a healthy dose of stubborness, with her jaws clenched the girl refused to look away from the cutting gaze Cara directed at her. “I…I’ll follow you.”

“You don’t even have a horse. As we already established, you’re going to die within three days out there on your own.” Seeing the older woman scoff, Noa clenched her hands even more.

“I don’t care. I’ll rather die walking behind you than live here in constant fear and hiding my eyes from everyone. I’d rather take the blows.” The girl pressed her lips together, fighting off tears, despite her big words.

Cara felt her anger rising again, knowing that whatever she said or did, Noa would not stay behind. The kid would be stupid enough to walk off into the forest without supplies, horse or knowledge of how to survive, despite the good life that might await her here. Without anyone knowing or caring who she really was. No, she’d rather follow like a good, obedient and brainless puppy behind the Mord’Sith into a dangerous land that would likely kill her in a brutal fashion.

“Stop being so damn stubborn!” she hissed at the girl.

“No, you stop being so stubborn!” Noa shouted right back before realizing her mistake.

Cara’s ire and frustration from the last several days and weeks reached a new peak. Knowing there was only one way left to keep Noa from running after her and gladly welcoming the idea, she raised her hand next to her cheek, intending to strike the kid with a harsh backhanded blow. Noa reacted out of instinct and, in a flash, crouched low into the dirt with both forearms protecting her tucked in head quicker than Cara was able to twitch. She held her hand higher.

And held.

And held.

Until she realized that the red hot, churning storm traveling through her veins had cleared up the second Noa had gone into her protective pose, hiding from Cara’s anger as she would from the unjustified aggressiveness of the village people that had wanted her dead. If Cara hadn’t hesitated, she would’ve been just like those dumb bastards that she had cursed just after finding what she had thought was Noa’s corpse. And if she had hurt Noa in this way, she would have never been able to step under Richard’s and Kahlan’s gaze again without feeling another dark, purulent mark on her soul. She could almost taste their disappointment like bitter acid at the back of her tongue.

Slowly, she let her arm sink back, watching the trembling, deadly quiet child sitting in front of her. As much as she hated to admit it, the distinct stubborness that the girl had displayed only moments before reminded her of herself. It was nerve–wracking.

“Get up,” she said quietly.

Noa carefully looked up between her arms, the usual intense green around her pupil turned pale due to fear and adrenalin. Seeing that the Mord’Sith was watching her with an empty expression, she clambered up hastily, but kept holding her limbs closely wrapped around her torso, unsure. It seemed like neither knew how to behave or act in this situation, every word and movement stumbling along on a razor thin edge between two beings made incapable of natural interpersonal behaviour. One slip–up, one step too far or too close and things broke. Incapable of truly getting along, but even less made for living along normal humans.

“You need a traveling outfit… those rags won’t do.”

The tears that sprang into Noa’s eye at those words caused something to constrict painfully deep inside Cara’s being and she clenched her jaw at the faint burning behind her ribcage while watching the girl nod shakily, elated, awaiting more orders. The fact that Cara would have been able to demand anything, anything at all right now from Noa like she could from a broken subject, and that without applying even one touch of pain from her Agiel, caused her to feel light–headed and displaced.

“We need to find a shop. Wait outside for me.”

Silence reigned again between them as the seamstress fitted some sturdy clothes to the skinny girl’s frame, then worked together with the tanner to find some appropriate boots. A few hours later, Noa marched behind her, dressed from head to toe in her new garments that could withstand the longer journey and a worn, but fitting backpack on her shoulder filled with her own freshly bought supplies. Hair bound back with a thin strip of leather, Noa tried her best to keep from bouncing around and smiling like a goof, but Cara could feel the happiness radiating off of her anyway, like a small ray of light constantly shining at her back. Cara shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably.

Leading the horses towards the entrance of the city, Cara send a long look towards the mountains in the distance. She didn’t know what scouring the Dead Wall would bring, but her training and instinct all told her that knowing more about the origin of the Dry Storms created in the peaks or beyond them would be worth something. Ready to move out, she tangled her hand in the reins. Sensing that Noa was hesitating out of some reason, she turned and raised an indignant eyebrow.

“What is it now?”

Noa sheepishly scratched her cheek, looking down on the ground.

“I…uh…I can’t ride.”

Cara groaned.

* * * * *

Noa stumbled noisily down into the small dent in the ground they were camping in after being back on the road for about a week, a bunch of plants in her dirty hands. Above the fire the pot with water was happily boiling away when the girl grinded the leaves between her hand into the meal she was making. Cara was busy with sharpening the hunting knife, but put it down when Noa filled their bowls with the steaming soup.

“The first thing you should learn,” Cara said with slight annoyance, watching Noa once again wolf down her food with vigor, “is to stop making so much noise. It’s bad enough that you can’t sit still for a whole hour. I already told you I’m not taking you to the mountain top, so try not to draw in half the woods predators when I leave you alone.”

The girl liked off a herb stuck to her spoon, furrowing her eyebrows. “I can be sneaky if I want to.”

Snorting, the Mord’Sith smirked into her meal. “Yeah, if you’re out cold on the ground,” refering to the day she had found the kid. “Or sleeping like a log.”

There was a wooden clanking when Noa sat her empty bowl down with more force than necessary and when Cara looked up through her lashes, she realized she had hit a nerve. Without stopping to calmy eat her soup, she watched the girl fume in silence. At least, Cara had to admit, the view was amusing and the food was good. She chewed contently, not even remotely thinking about apologising.

“I’ll get the rest of the herbs I found,” the girl mumbled with a touch of anger and scrambled back up, leaves and sticks rustling loud enough that Cara was able to hear her for at least another hundred metres. Rolling her eyes, she went back to her sharpening, the blade in dire need of it after almost three weeks of use. Not detecting any danger, she focused on the task, one ear trained on the woods just in case the foolish kid stumbled over a root and broke a leg.

Minutes later, the soft scrapping sound had turned into a soothing rhythm and the knife was nearly finished. She wondered shortly how long it could take to find a bunch of plants in the dim light, but then remembered that Noa didn’t have the tiniest idea what tracking meant and that even following her own tracks was probably a trial for someone who had never been away from their home. Shaking her head at all the rudimentary things she had to teach the girl to have her survive on her own, she watched the dance of the flame reflected in the unpolished surface of the kni–…

A blood–curdling scream erupted right next to her left ear.

Cara surged forward, pulling both her Agiels and turning around even while her feet were already on their way of finding a good purchase on the soil beneath her soles. Heart hammering in her chest, blond hair flying away from her face, her eyes darted wildly around the perimeter, ready to strike anyone that had caused her body to already produce a good amount of adrenalin and cold sweat. But all she found was a quite familiar and whimpering blonde child on the ground, clutching an arm close to her chest while Cara could see the last blackish lines fade away from where the girl had touched her Agiels.

Anger exploded in her chest. “Are you raving mad?!” she shouted at the kid, not quite grasping the situation that had occured.

“I’m sorry,” Noa sobbed, more in shock at the sudden pain than out of fear at Cara’s anger, “I just… wanted to proof it!”

“Proof what?” the older blonde snapped, shoving her weapons back into their holders after watching Noa’s eyes follow them around in distress.

“That… I can be sneaky!” She looked down at her hand, astonished. “I thought if I grabbed one of your beating sticks… without you realizing it…I… I didn’t know they would hurt, I’m sorry!” Quickly rubbing away the tears from her cheeks, Noa’s face was filled with guilt.

“By the Creator, I told you about the Mord’Sith!” Her pulse was still running a marathon. Cara gnashed her teeth, pacing. And slowly realizing with growing anger at herself that Noa had actually managed to sneak up on her. “These aren’t simple beating sticks but Agiels, the weapons we use for torture.” Pulling out one of the red leather rods, she held the humming point in front of Noa’s nose, the kid’s eyes growing large and her breath catching. “They inflict pain all the time. Can’t you connect the dots?”

“You…I…you never said that they inflict pain all the time! I thought it worked like a…a knife or something.” The girl pulled up her shoulders.

“Then let’s hope you learn something from it.” Flaring her nostrils, Cara looked down her nose at the culprit. “But I’ll admit it… you can be…quite sneaky. If you touch my things again without my permission, you’ll be on the receiving end of one of these.” Shooing the girl away with the Agiel, the Mord’Sith admonished herself for her lack of attention, although she couldn’t help but be stunned at the fact that Noa had come so close to her without any of her warrior senses reacting. Either her fighting skills were dulling or Noa had a hidden talent for body control that was yet to be seen.

A long time later she finally put her thoughts and musings into words. “I suspect it will get dangerous the closer we get to the Dead Wall. And you need to watch out for yourself, I won’t keep an eye on you all of the time. I’m no babysitter.”

A blonde head raised itself from the sleeping mat, surprised at the words. Noa had expected Cara to be angry at her for a day or two longer than this.

“Which means that you need to learn how to fight. The earlier we start, the better. We’ll train at least an hour every evening from tomorrow on.”

“But I’m still sore from the riding,” Noa mumbled into the furs.

“Did I hear a complaint?”

“No,” the girl replied in a tone equal to heaving a deep sigh. And accepted that this was probably her punishment for the stupid stunt she pulled that evening.

Part 7

“You need to get quicker!”

Noa yelped when the Agiel whizzed over her head with an aggressive hum, the quick maneuver causing her to stumble forward and land on her knees. Disoriented for a second, she could only throw herself to the side, rolling over the thick grass when Cara slammed the rods down on the spot where she had been cowering a second earlier. With spread arms and wheezing, the girl was unable to move another muscle when the older woman loomed over her, Agiel aimed for the kill.

The blow never came and Noa groaned. “I know, I know… dead. Again.”

Cara only raised her eyebrows in a way that said And you’re the one to blame for that, before sauntering over to the fire place. Noa gulped in a few more breaths, then picked herself up in a slumped sitting position. The two wooden sticks Cara had carved for her, both as long as an Agiel or a dagger, were laying between her spread legs while she recovered.

Aching muscles aside, the training was a lot of fun for the kid, although disheartening too, since the older woman never seemed to be satisfied with Noa’s work. This was the first time that the Mord’Sith had used her Agiels, as Noa had begun her training with simple exercises to strengthen her body and raise her movability, before they had switched over to basic fighting movements.

Cara was a merciless, but very precise teacher. She was good at spotting the natural abilities that someone showed and thus had learned early on that Noa would never become a fighter focused on strength, like herself. But the kid was very quick and surprisingly agile, with a good instinct for evasion and defense. And Cara focused on those abilities, watching the process the girl made with a critical eye. It was quite a different experience than teaching one of the children she had broken. At first it seemed to be less rewarding and much more chaotic and lively, but then suddenly Noa acted much more familiar with certain motion sequences than a girl three or four years her senior.

Sometimes Cara wondered if the beatings Noa had received at the hands of the villagers at an early age acted in a similar way to the breakings endured by the older, soon–to–be Mord’Sith by creating a closely resembling frame of mind. The girl was no stranger to pain, which even might explain her acquired habit of instinctively moving out of the way of incoming attacks that normal children didn’t possess. Coupled with her strong need to obey the Mord’Sith’s orders in a way of showing her thankfulness, the training progressed at a rate that was pleasing to Cara, but which she didn’t show in front of Noa. Simply because the girl’s frustration in failing to get a honest compliment out of Cara fueled her ambitions even more.

Now that she was used to riding on the supply horse and often had some recess energy left after all chores were done (she was eight years, she had energy for a whole D’Haran scouting squad), Cara would find Noa most days clamber about in the high grass of the meadows or through the underbrush of the forest parts they were camping in, practicing cartwheels, back– and front handsprings and even somersaults. Those were the exercises Noa had taken a strong liking to and she was getting better at them thanks to the constant workout. Still, the more reckless tries ended in a heap of limbs on the ground.

Three months, Cara thought wistfully while she combed down the two dark brown horses, since I got trapped in Darza. How long will I have to stay here? Another three? A year? Several? Although her goal of reaching the Dead Wall and training Noa kept her busy, sometimes at night her mind started to wander and she recognized a feeling she identified as home sickness. It felt as if she was loosing her purpose, as Mord’Sith and even as the person she thought herself to be.

She found herself forced to look at things inside herself and around her. Darza was beautiful, as she had to admit, a full continent of wild and untamed nature, with hordes of wild horses rushing past them on the open plane, various animals and plants she had never seen before, while others were the exact same in her own world. It was something she had never imagined herself to ponder. But now, nearly alone on her way across a world with so few human beings in relation to the land, appreciating the great outdoors came on its own accord. It made her feel small. Cara didn’t like to feel small. And yet she was unable to change it.

And as much as she hated to admit it, hated the very thought of it, since it went against everything she had ever learned and been taught, she had become dependent on the child traveling with her. Not because she was unable to cook an eatable meal on her own or because she needed help with the chores… no, it was a lot more simpler than that.

She needed the human contact.

Even though she had grown up to become independent and unbeatable, without having to rely on anyone but her Lord Rahl’s commands, she had never been truly alone. During her time under Darken Rahl, she had been surrounded by her Sisters and afterwards she had traveled with her new family. And even away from them there were villages, towns, whole cities she could have gone to. But after two months of scouring the vast emptiness of Darza, Cara felt afraid to be alone for the first time since running away from – Kahlan – her new Lord Rahl, and during that time she had simply gone home. She had no home in this world.

And neither had Noa.

We have a few things in common. She placed her flat hand against the nose of the pack horse that Noa had called Squiggly, for his unusual coloring consisting of different shades of brown. It seemed as if he always stood beneath the punctuated shadow of a leafy tree. I wonder if I wanted her gone because of it, or if it is the reason I let her stay in the end? Her gaze sought out the girl that had become startlingly care–free since the city and watched her tumbling over a fallen trunk. Watched as the smaller blonde stood back up, rubbed the spot at her head that she’d hit during the fall, while turning back towards the hindrance with a contemplating look. Watched as the girl shrugged, crawled on the big log and resumed her slow, amateurish back handsprings with a frown of childish concentration on her face.

What the others would say if they knew I tolerated and welcomed the presence of an eight year old?

A pang of hurt erupted in her heart at the memory of her friends. Remembered the way they would share thoughts around the fire, Zedd entertaining with pieces of knowledge and stories, the resulting discussions or reminiscence of the obstacles they had met on their travels. Richard dropping to his knees, pointing out a trail. And the fighting, oh, the fighting! She could still imagine the sound of Kahlan’s feet behind her back in the midst of a battle against their enemies, both women dancing with their backs toward each other, flowing together and apart in the constant change of attack and defense.

Kahlan’s smile highlighted by the warm glow from the freshly fed flames of the camp fire.

Cara closed her eyes to the sudden hurt that flooded her veins and the ache erupting in her joints. Was this how missing a friend felt? Not even the pain of the Agiel could compare with it or hide away the thoughts and emotions storming through her soul like a whirlwind. Have I become so weak after all? She wanted to rage, to grow cold and hard, to stand empty and emotionless. But the longer the days spent in this world grew, the less she could keep up her fight. She was growing insecure of herself. She was growing insecure in her belief that there had to be a way back.

What if there isn’t? a small voice whispered in her ear, never having had a chance to be heard before. And what if they aren’t even interested in finding a way to get me back?

And there were the doubts. Eating away at her, growing bigger and more secure the less Cara could throw against them. And she realized she was running out of material to fight them off with quicker than ever.

Would they abandon me?

She should have never let those annoying emotions back into her life.

Would they?..

* * * * *

All was ready for the theoretic opening of the portal. Zedd had send for them to explain what they needed to do and decide who would enter Dazrodha to find Cara.

And it was the reason for their current dispute.

“Kahlan, please, you are too important for Aydindril and the Midlands. I’ll go find her.” Richard spread his hands, gazing at her in his typical, imploring way.

“No, I need to do this,” Kahlan replied, gently pushing away his concerns with a flick of her wrist. “I’m not willing to stand by and watch others do the work any longer. Richard, if anything happens here, the world needs its Seeker.”

“You are the last Confessor. If I don’t come back, Zedd can name a new one…but you, you are unique!” He placed both hands on her shoulders, his eyes pleading more than his words ever could. “Please, Kahlan.”

A heavy sigh left her lips. “No. I won’t let this fall onto you. After all we went through, it’s time for someone else to do the work and that someone is me, as ruler and as friend… can’t you understand that I need to do this?”

This was going on since hours, the same arguments rolling forth at a steady interval, only dressed in new exclamations and brought forth with different motivations. Kahlan steadfast refused to back down and craftily outweighed every reason her boyfriend could find to make her stay here, but the Seeker was determined, which equaled the Mother Confessor’s smart use of words with the bluntness of an emotional sledgehammer.

When the argument went on for another hour, both parties involved finally threw their hands in the air and sat down at opposite ends of Zedd’s table, exhausted from debating against two equally stubborn walls. They had reached a stalemate.

Zedd rubbed his forehead and tried not to scold them for behaving like someone half their age. Youths. It will always stay the same. Thankfully he didn’t have to join the squabble, as he was needed here to open and hold the portal. “Alright, let me please explain the facts to you before you start bickering again. Spirits, the two of you are worse than a horde of screelings.” At least they had the decency to look ashamed. Clearing his throat, he took a meaningful step forward.

“As you know, there are many types of portals that can be used for travel, which open a gate between the magical planes and allow us a journey through time and space. For example the gate between the New World and the Old, which was created by many talented and powerful wizards. It is not easy to place a portal that is not only permanent, but works both ways, and with a plane such as Dazrodha it is close to impossible.”

“But why?” Richard asked from where he was propped on the surface, leaning his temple against his closed fist. “There is a similar time discrepancy between our two worlds. You know that the few days I spent in the Old World have been weeks for you.”

“Yes, but it is linear, not erratic like Dazrodha’s. Another problem is the incredible high amount of unfiltered, chaotic magic that resides in and around the plane we want to visit. Magic attracts magic, that is why our disturbed portal sent Cara to this specific world, as the chaotic energy attracted the one I used for the gate. But sadly, it doesn’t work the other way around. Creating a portal that leads away from Dazrodha is like trying to find the woods while standing in the middle of a dense forest.”

“So, getting to Dazrodha is easy, but back home impossible?”

“It would be, if you didn’t have me.” The wizard winked at Kahlan. “I created a stone set on a specific purpose. It works like a catalyst, using up enough energy from the Plane of Storm temporary that the spell inside will trigger a portal back home. Unhindered by the high concentration, the way will be free.” He held up a small bag, opened the strings and peeled the sides down far enough that they could see a brilliant, plum–sized ruby resting on the inner lining.

Kahlan widened her eyes. “That one is from the treasury.”

“And it is the most perfect one I could find. It had to be, otherwise it won’t be able to hold the intense magical energy that needs to be absorbed for the portal to open. Now that it is spelled, I’d advise you not to tou–..” Before he could finish his sentence, the Mother Confessor’s fingers were already gliding across the immaculate surface, when a blazing white light erupted from the stone that caused them to close their lids against the brightness. Richard shot out of his seat in surprise.

A few seconds later, after the colored spots stopped dancing merrily on their retina, a confused Confessor looked up at Zedd. “I’m…sorry? What did I do?”

“Well,” the wizard mumbled dryly, “that at least solves the problem concerning who will travel to Dazrodha.”

Richard gaped, first at his grandfather, then at his love. “Wait, what?!”

“The stone imprinted on our dear Kahlan, now the spell will only work for her. It is needed as a focus for the spell to work properly..” he fished the ruby out of the bag, nothing happened this time, “..and creating another spelled stone will take too much work and time. While I said that Cara would not have to wait for long, the closest I can get to her time is the same as ours.”

“Which means she already spent at least close to four months in that world.” Admitting defeat and plopping back onto his chair, Richard rubbed his face with a frown. “Alright…alright. We can’t have her stew for another two months, who knows what’s going on over there.”

Kahlan had a hard time hiding the giddy feeling at the knowledge that she would be able to bring Cara back home soon. It was a huge relief that she didn’t have to see someone else doing the job and make her feel useless once again, even if it would have been Richard doing the deed. She might have been responsible for creating the Stone of Tears, but now she knew that the feelings required for this act didn’t have anything to do with everlasting, deep love, but rather bottomless, soul–wracking grief. One could argue that such grief could only come from an equally deep love, but the emotion that had fueled her tears had consisted of several conflicting feelings that she was loath to experience again.

Reaching forward to accept the beautiful ruby that would turn everything back to how it was supposed to be, she rolled it between her fingers. “How will I use it when I’m there?”

“First, you need to find of a so–called Field of Eruption, which is a place where the magic inside the planet and the one in the surrounding hemisphere connect on the surface. It shouldn’t be hard to find, you will feel it once you are close enough. From there the only thing left is to activate it with your will, the rest will happen on its own.”

Nodding to convey that she had understood, she leaned back in her seat, contemplating.

“Zedd, why is there so much unchecked magic in Dazrodha?” Gazing at the distracted Confessor with worry filling his eyes, he gripped the hilt of his sword in his helplessness. “Is it something dangerous?”

“There are few things we know about the Plane of Storm. All the wizards writing this book could glean from their research comes from opening small portals and sweeping the surface with their powers. What I can say is that the plane lacks sufficient magical creatures that create a natural balance between the world and the magical energy. The magic can’t connect to the land, thus resulting in accumulating chaotic amounts. There are no Night Wisps, Gars and other catalysts to help the process of distribution.” At the scared looks the two send him, he tried to ease their minds. “But it is nothing dangerous in and of itself, just disturbing.”

“Great, so we have a world filled to the brim with powerful magic.”

The wizard held up an interrupting finger. “Chaotic magic. Powerful magic is something entirely different,” he corrected.

Richard just groaned. “I still hate the idea that Kahlan will go there alone.”

“And I refuse to send the both of you. Who knows how Darken Rahl will use the time if he finds out that you are gone from the Midlands..”

“I’ll be fine, Richard.” Kahlan smiled at him reassuringly, causing the Seeker to relax slowly. “This is as save as it can get. And I trust that Zedd will bring me as close to Cara as possible.”

“That I will do. The portal will be a heavy strain on me, for I will have to bypass not only space but time as well, but I am quite aware of my powers and am positive that this task is within my limits.” Zedd addressed the Mother Confessor directly with his next words. “I will need some time to recover from creating the spelled stone, I will tell you when I’m ready. Gather everything you need until then.”

Pressing the ruby against her chest, the Confessor earnestly nodded once. Wait just a bit more. I’ll bring you back to us.

Soon, Cara.

Part 8

Another month passed. They were close to the foot of the mountain, the terrain raising upwards steadily. Cara imagined she could see the spot were some villagers had settled down to work in one of the few existing mines, the soft trail of fire smoke they created almost getting lost in the fog that curled lazily around the Dead Wall. It was time for them to part soon, since Cara had decided that for the first time she would venture higher alone, leaving Noa to watch over their belongings and the horses. The girl had more or less fallen in love with Squiggly and Cara’s more temperamental mare, dubbed Ella, and had taken great interest in learning how to take care of them. Though she still didn’t know how to ride on her own, as she always sat on the pack horse that was connected to Ella with to a rope.

Then the day came that Cara found a good spot for making a long–term camp, right near the place where a mountain spring formed a small lake. With enough water, plants and supplies the kid would be able to live on her own for the time that the Mord’Sith traveled up the giant of stone.

“Don’t slack up in your training, do you understand? You know where I told you to set the snares, check them every day. Don’t talk to anyone and beware of any large animals. They are bound to come near with a lake this close.”

“Will do,” the kid said, the ponytail swinging under her head while she dangled from her legs slung over a branch hanging near the ground.

“And try not to break your neck,” Cara added dryly and slammed her fist hard enough against the branch that Noa tumbled down with a small cry, but managed to catch herself with a tugged in roll over the grassy soil. Noa huffed from where she came to a stop, puffing the hair out of her eyes and catching Cara’s half–smirk.

“I’m not five anymore.”

“No, but you’re still a snotty brat, so listen to what I told you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Noa answered with a half–hearted salute, the other hand combing the honey blonde strands back to where they were supposed to be.

The Mord’Sith nodded approvingly and stalked over to where she had placed her backpack. Only taking what was needed, she even left her sleeping mat behind, replacing the space with food and water. Doing one last check–up, she quickly swung her belongings on her back, striding in the direction she thought would be best for a way upwards. There was a plateau she had read about in the library that she wanted to reach, it was in a height that was manageable in just a few days, provided she found the right paths. She had almost left the clearing when she heard Noa shout after her.

“Cara! Please be careful, all right?”

The older woman snorted. “I’m not that easy to kill.”

Noa, standing awkwardly and small in the middle of the grassy patch of earth with her hands behind her back, then shouted a little bit quieter, “Then at least don’t get hurt.”

“You worry too much,” Cara answered back with a shake of her head, although a bit touched that the girl was caring about her well–being. She needs you to come back here in one piece or she’s stuck here, so don’t get sentimental, you fool, Cara scolded herself, but content anyway that she could feel a sad gaze following her back all the way until she vanished between the close growing trees.

But all thoughts about her unbalanced emotions vanished soon when she found herself concentrating on the path ahead. All too soon she was fighting her way upwards over smooth boulders and sharp edges, slippery inclines and twisting pathways created by animals. The sun was peaking out between soft, white tufts of clouds and a steady wind dried the sweat gathering on her exposed skin. Bushes and small trees became less and less the higher she got, making way for tough scrub and tangly, dry moss. Only the constantly growing burn in her muscles and the moving of the shadows told her how much time had passed since the beginning of her climb.

During her final break she rested on a small outcrop to check the progress she’d made. The land unfurled in front of her like a veil sewn out of every green thread imaginable, only broken by glittering lines and spots where water resided, shining almost like golden embroidery when touched by the rays of the slowly sinking sun. A stronger breeze cooled her heated body, the workout creating a pleasant tiredness in her limbs that held off anything unwanted she could think of, leaving her mind comfortably empty. Napping closely to the mountain wall so she wouldn’t fall off during the night, she let her exhaustion guide her into a dreamless sleep.

Cara repeated the process the next day, climbing even higher. Up here the air got colder with every hour and she could also feel her lungs breathing harder than before to compensate the lack of oxygen her blood received. It wasn’t critical yet, but noticeable. The monotone movement of walking upwards caused her to grow less alert and she almost slipped down a crevice between two smaller mountain peaks when the path underneath her sole crumbled away and only honed reflexes kept her from crashing down below. Thankfully she didn’t have to climb up the sheer rock wall with the Dead Wall itself so rough and uneven.

Let’s just hope I’m not risking my life for nothing, Cara thought annoyed while making her way over a fallen rock, much more careful after the near fatal accident. Mentally cursing the world around her in every language she knew – and there were a lot of languages she knew at least the curse words from – she almost didn’t realize what her body told her after heaving herself up over an edge above her head. Taking in huge gulps of air, her eyes widened when she looked up.

The Cradle of Death, as the book writer had called it, was spread before her eyes, a huge round, bland plateau surrounded by nearly vertical rock sides and covered in a fine layer of light dust and sand. There was no plant growth as far as she could see, just the smooth wavy soil on the ground. But the most unusual and unpleasant finding was the magic that vibrated through her flesh and bones in a steady staccato rhythm, almost as jarring as a earthquake but without the added movement.

For the first few seconds Cara had to force herself to stand there and not turn right back down to get away from the aggravating energy assaulting her. Then she gritted her teeth and took a step forward. The feeling didn’t ease up, but she managed to push it into a corner of her mind, compartmentalizing the unease until other thoughts had time to flow through her head. Then she drew on the power every Mord’Sith inherited, pushing the magic out of herself as she would block and return the strength of a wizard’s fire. It wasn’t as simple as this, since the energy came from everywhere at once, but it eased the pressure on her limbs.

She walked across the empty space, searching for something, anything that would give answers to questions she had and others she might not know about.

However, her search came up unsuccessful. There was nothing. Even when she started digging on the ground, all that trickled between her fingers was the pure sand. How it had come up here was another unveiled mystery to the Mord’Sith.

Just great, she thought when she got up from her knees and placed her hand angrily atop her humming Agiel. Not even one small hint what this could be or where this huge amount of magic might come from. Not even the throbbing pain flowing through her arm could keep away the flood of hopelessness that suddenly dared to crash against her meticulously erected inner walls. She was completely helpless. There was no way for her to find a way back without a magic portal, that she firstly wasn’t capable of and secondly would never be able to learn in a land filled with rabid magic–haters.

Her only hope was with the three people she had left behind in the Midlands and that feeling was fading with every day she was stuck here on Darza. Why would they go through so much effort just for her? She was simply a tool, a weapon. Convenient for their quest, which was finished and victorious.

Is there even a reason to climb back down?

Her arms grew slack as black dread and desperation threatened to overwhelm her consciousness. Confronted with something no Mord’Sith could have ever prepared her for, a leaden weight settled itself on her heart. The faces of her friends felt like breaking glass inside her soul. Richard. Zedd.

Kahlan.

A piece of her shattered so much worse, so much more painful, than all three of her Mord’Sith breakings together.

I’m useless here. I’m nothing. Without my duty, without a way to return, why continue?

The image of a thin blonde girl with sun–tanned skin and two entirely different, twinkling eyes surfaced in her mind, a forlorn look on her young features while she stared up the mountain scale, waiting, hoping.

Noa. Cara’s glazed over, hollow eyes blinked, returning slowly back to life. She depends on me.

It was this tiny spark of remembrance that turned her survival instincts back to full throttle and raised all internal alarms she had ever formed. Feeling a cold, prickling sensation at the back of her neck, Cara had just enough time to draw her weapons and spin around, both red leather rods crashing down against a solid resistance. The blonde woman jumped back, only now acknowledging what she had hit.

Darkness.

Now she knew why the people called them the Aphotics, the Lightless. There was little doubt about the origin of that name.

The figure in front of her was tall, humanoid even. The first impression was that of a lanky, outgrown man, but this was were the resemblance ended. There was a distinct shape to the creature, but where one would expect features or skin there was only a deep void and darkness caught in the remote form of a human being. She would have called it a walking shadow, if that thing wasn’t so solid–looking like a stature carved out of pure black, light absorbing marble. It didn’t even have a shadow. No footsteps lead to his standing point.

When she started to circle the Aphotic, it seemed to turn with her, almost lazy and hunched. Then, from one second to the other, it attacked with a speed that made her heart stop for a short moment before instincts kicked in and she slammed her left Agiel forward into its chest, then following with a strike of her right against his head. The Aphotic twitched violently as if silently screaming, then stopped, slow and sluggish again.

Cara went back to circling. Watching, appraising. This is not your average thug.

It seemed to only know two kinds of movements, a sluggish turning and shuffling and the inhuman quickness it used to surge forward and attack, then going back to laggard calculating and waiting. Not leaving the creature time to find a new attack point, she jumped forward, ducking under a swipe that created a strong gust of wind and warned her of its animalistic strength, before plunging both weapon’s tips against his lightless body. Again the Aphotic twitched and coiled, unable to form a counter–attack in what she assumed was lethal pain.

It took a lot longer than killing a human, but finally the silent creature went slack, then started bleeding its own substance on the ground, the still unreflecting liquid turning into thick fog that dissolved into nothing. Half a minute later, the Aphotic was erased from existence.

Panting from the unexpected scuffle, she had just enough time to swipe a lock of hair out of her face until a cold feeling traveled down her spine, causing her body to turn rigid and alarmed. Turning around with a strong sense of unease, she felt her throat go dry at the view.

Behind her, three equally silent and calmly swaying Apothics stood in a line, waiting, watching her without eyes. They all looked exactly the same. The magic surged hostilely against her mental walls. A bead of sweat trickled down her back.

Mere moments later Cara realized pretty fast that those abnormal things were learning with each one she managed to erase.

After killing another one, the other two started attacking in a pair, forcing her two alternate between them. Barely a blink after the third melted away, a fourth appeared behind her back out of thin air without warning, without her knowing how it came into existence. With this one down, the remaining started to adapt basic fighting skills instead of simply rushing at her.

Three more went down. Her enemies grew stronger, faster.

It was clear that at this rate they would overwhelm her soon, slipping in between her defense and slinking around her back where she could only react out of instinct. The only sound was the bite of her Agiel and her own, harsh gasps that got lost in the empty space of the plateau.

How many are there?! Where do they come from?

After another two joined the fight that tilted dangerously towards the Apothics, Cara turned towards the way she had come from and ran, cursing herself a coward but unable to find a way to kill these creatures without them overpowering her with their superior strength, numbers and rapid learning. For each one she killed the others would gain another new approvement in their rudimentary battle skills. The more she won, the less were her final chances of survival.

Maybe confused by her sudden maneuver, the Apothics didn’t follow her, standing turned towards her like a silent, eerie army of cold voids while she jumped and skidded down the path she had come from.

“I hate Darza, I hate it!” she hissed with venom, running while at the same time watching out that she didn’t stumble over a stone and fell down the easiest and least survivable way there was, namely straight down. “What do I get for saving their damn asses and bringing them safely to the Pillars of Creation? A one–way door to a provincial backwater filled with invincible shadows! Agh!” Wiping a drop of blood from her brow where a wicked swipe had caused her skin to break open, more curses spewed forth. She could feel her ribs burn at the hasty movements, knowing there would be a nice shiner developing the next morning.

Sneering back at the path upwards, she clenched her Agiels tightly, the anger in her veins covering the fright that shook her soul at meeting such an abominable, seemingly invincible enemy.

Cradle of Death, indeed.

But not mine, you bastards.

* * * * *

Exhausted and blood–caked the Mord’Sith pushed away the twigs of a bush hindering her way into the clearing just as dusk was setting. Close like this she could already hear the kid she left alone recite some kind of nursery rhyme, missing half the notes and stopping every few lines. Now, with the greenery out of the way, she watched for a short while as Noa sang and pushed herself up in a handstand, walking a wobbly step or two on her arms and then crumbling back down in a heap. That would explain the pauses in the rhymes. Cara felt a strange weight lift from her heart as she watched the girl occupy herself.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” she then shouted across the clearing.

Noa whirled around, surprise stopping her tongue while a relieved smile spread across her face. “Cara! You’re back!” Quickly running closer to her mistress turned teacher, she scrambled to a halt when seeing the bruises marring her body. “You’re hurt!” she exclaimed in shock.

“Just a few scratches,” Cara breathed out with a scowl, in dire need of a bath and a nice long sleep. “Nothing a few nights of rest can’t cure.” Walking past Noa in a brisk pace, she paused only when she felt small fingers grab the strings holding together the leather on her arm. Waiting rigidly, the older blonde turned her head only slightly to the side, towards her back where the girl stood.

“I’m..” Noa paused, chewing her lip. “I’m really glad you came back safe, Cara,” she declared in a quiet, honest voice, grabbing the strings tighter for a moment before letting go.

Cara halted, the unexpected words echoing in her ears. Nodding briskly to show she had heard and acknowledged Noa, she only replied, “Start making camp, while I go wash myself.”

The girl scrambled off, leaving the Mord’Sith to ponder her feelings.

She’s just using you, a part of her mind whispered at her, advising her not to get too close. Twisting the honest relief in Noa’s voice to see her into a simple need not to have to travel onward alone.

She cares about your well–being. She trusts you, another part said, calming her nerves and pulling at the walls she had erected around herself. The conflicting views clawed at her insides, making it hard for her to choose the correct path. It was maddening.

This is how far you’ve come, a third view exclaimed, sounding suspiciously like a certain dark–haired Confessor that advised her to open herself up to the feeling of compassion. Yes, one year in the presence of people that encouraged the slow return of her emotions had changed her.

As she stripped off her armor with a far–away look and stepped into the freezing water of the nearby lake, Cara couldn’t ignore the fact that she had somehow along the way started to care about her new protégée. Was it the unquestioned obedience Noa showed? No, it couldn’t be. People she’d broken had been just as determined to fulfill her wishes. But maybe it was this single, small difference that distinguished Noa from every other young girl she had broken before.

Noa did it out of her own free will. She slept soundly next to the older woman even after knowing what a Mord’Sith could do, she did as instructed even though sometimes with an open disgruntled look – like every time Cara told her to do the dishes – and even truly cared to have Cara come back unhurt. And just imagining to replace Noa’s newfound interest in the life around here, that shone in her eyes every morning, with the empty, harsh look her former subjects had sported, brought a sudden tightness to Cara’s chest that she found hard to explain. Running her hands through the clear water and brushing away dirt and blood from her body, the blonde finally faced some long pushed away facts.

It was clear that she would not find a way home on her own. The mountain plateau had been her last hope and what she had found instead of a solution had been a creepy, shaking experience that would be haunting her for a while to come. Maybe she had to get used to the fact that no one would come to get her and that she was going to spend the rest of her days on Darza, swallowing the dryness in her throat that came with that thought.

Maybe training Noa was a good way to get started with it. To get her mind of things. She could substitute her old purpose of protecting her friends by taking care of the girl, giving herself a new reason to tackle her days with the stubborn, efficient mindset every Mord’Sith displayed in their way of living. Feeling renewed with this decision and refreshed from the cool liquid that had cleaned her skin, she slipped back into her leathers. She felt the strength that had been sapped from her in the Cradle of Death flow back into her limbs and boy, did it feel good.

After being subjected to the breaking with the Agiels, throwing me into another world is just a roll in the hay. A hindrance like that won’t break my spirit.

Quite content with herself, even though thinking about her friends still hurt and would be the painful subject of another day, she placed her weapons back into their sheaths, walking strictly back towards camp. The idea of a nice, warm meal and a good night’s rest sounded like a wonderful change to the last days of scrambling around between chilly, hard rocks.

Just don’t think about–… no, just don’t. You won’t see her… them again.

When she stepped back into the clearing, Noa was nowhere to be seen, but Cara guessed that the kid was off scavenging for some kind of herb or the other, judging by the bubbling pot placed atop the fire. Hair almost dry after the walk, she sauntered over to the warmth the flames provided, but stopped at a sudden sound in the distance.

Something was making its way towards camp. And judging the heaviness of it, Noa was out of the question, Cara knew how the girl’s steps sounded by now.

Carefully drawing her Agiels again, her body already itching at the prospect of another fight, she turned towards the intruder and waited until a figure broke out of the tree line.

* * * * *

When Kahlan stumbled out of the churning portal and into the dense forest, she found herself surrounded by a thick and colorful dust that surrounded the whole clearing she had landed in. The receding daylight caused it to sparkle and she could hear the roar of a distant wind. But as she glided her hand through the strange substance with fascination, it vanished before her eyes. Maybe a side–effect from the spell? she wondered and turned in a circle to get a feel for her surroundings. The air was cold enough to turn her breath to white clouds.

The wildlife wasn’t much different from the Midlands, but here and there the Mother Confessor could spot a foreign flower or plant between others that she knew. Hurrying to grab the small compass that Zedd had given her to find the absent Mord’Sith, she held it in front of her, placed on the palm of her hand. Knowing that the spell woven into it only worked because of the hair from Cara’s hairbrush that they had found in the saddle bag of her horse, Kahlan felt herself badly reminded of the other options one could do with a single strand. Shuddering at the memory of the maternity spell, she concentrated back on the compass, watching it point straight west.

It works! Kahlan felt overjoyed at this. A working compass meant that Cara was here and, most importantly, alive.

Marching east, untroubled by the lack of light now that she was used to traveling in the dark after several months on the road, she soon saw the smoke and shine of a single campfire atop the treeline. Zedd had promised her that he would place her as close to Cara as possible, so the discovery caused her blood to run faster through her veins.

Kahlan swallowed. So many months and now she was just a few minutes away from seeing the blonde woman again. It was pathetic, but the happiness spreading warm inside her belly caused her to feel light–headed.

It would also mean that she had to go back to denying her feelings, pushing them away when it was inappropriate and reigning them in whenever they dared to spill over. What had been a tender change on the day she realized her love for Cara had become a raging wildfire in the weeks after, forcing her to lock it away and slam a lid on it. Though that had worked as well as pulling a blanket over a campfire: It calmed down for a moment or two before it all went up in flames.

And she knew it would only get worse in time. But all that didn’t stop her body from gaining speed and running to the parting treeline, only to come face to face with a battle ready, blonde Mord’Sith.

It was the most wonderful thing the Mother Confessor had seen since the day she had realized that she was in love with the beautiful woman.

“Thank the Creator… Cara,” Kahlan sobbed with relief, the joy of finally seeing her well and alive strong enough that her legs grew weak and she had to stop in front of the smaller woman, lest she would crumble.

Cara watched her in pure shock, eyes big and confused as if she was seeing an apparition. She also didn’t lower her weapon, her stance weary, but couldn’t help but say quietly, confused, “Kahlan?…Is that really you?”

The sound of her voice was like the sweetest melody to Kahlan’s ears. She smiled brightly, stepping forward. Something was different about Cara, but that was expected after four months in the wild. “I am so, so sorry, Cara, we searched for you almost two months and it took another two to find a way to get us both back… we did everything we could.”

“Four months?” The blonde woman asked in a strange voice that the Confessor hardly recognized, then lowered her Agiels and turned around slowly.

Kahlan gasped in complete shock. Cara’s straight blonde hair, once barely shorter than her shoulders, fell down to her hips in a long flowing mane. What in the Creator’s name…?

“Kahlan…I’ve been here in this crazy land since four blasted years.”

Part 9

Four years earlier on Darza:

“Hello? Is someo–..whoa!” The young man that had called out jerked to a halt in front of her drawn weapons, stopped by the menacing look in the leather clad woman’s eyes.

“What do you want?” Cara demanded in a low growl, mustering the person from head to toe. He carried nothing with him other than his clothes and a leather satchel, but she was leery of him anyway.

He scratched his head with his upheld hands, probably asking himself how he had gotten in this position and what he could do to change it. Wetting his lips uneasily, he eyed the strange red rods. “Uh, sorry for intruding.. I saw smoke and wondered who might be camping here. It’s unusual, so I came looking… that’s it, really.”

Finding no lie in the unsure man’s eyes, Cara lowered her weapons after another second of boring her gaze into his. “Then leave.” Her tone was pointed.

Although it was clear that he had a healthy respect for the strangely clad woman, he still stayed at his spot for another few moments. When Cara took a threatening step in his direction, he quickly held up his arms again and babbled on. “L–look, right, I’ll be going in a second, I just.. I just thought you might want to be careful. There was a sighting of Apothics two days ago and…well, a Dry Storm might be coming up, too.”

She blinked at him uncomprehendingly, watching as he fished some brown hair out of his face with a nervous gesture. “How do you know that?” she asked slowly.

“When the Apothics show themselves down here it always means a Storm is coming up. They get restless around that time…you from the city?” he asked with keen interest.

“Something like that,” she responded dryly, filing away the other information for later. “I suspect you’re one of the miners.” Cara nodded her chin towards the direction she guessed he came from.

“Yeah, that’s right. Hey, would you like to stay with us until the Storm is over? We have a spare room that you could use.” He smiled brightly and the Mord’Sith inwardly rolled her eyes. Show some skin and the next youth is going to come over wagging his tail and doing tricks to charm her into his bed. But the prospect of sleeping on a real mattress after three months on the hard ground did sound tempting.

“Get moving. Maybe we’ll take you up on your offer.”

He visibly deflated. “We?”

This time she really rolled her eyes. “Just move!” she snapped at him and watched as he turned and ran with a wince. Creator, young men are worse than puppies.

Cara spend the rest of her time mending her leathers. Somewhere along the line Noa returned with a characteristic bounce to her step, making Cara wonder once again how it was possible that the kid was never able to be quiet for some longer time if she didn’t have to. Deciding to find out the answer to that mystery during the meal, she did something that would have astonished the Midlanders back home.

She asked.

“There’s a trick to it,” Noa replied after contemplating the question and chewing, “but it’s hard to explain. Back in the village, I knew I would get beaten by someone or the other regardless of what I did. So I started to enter Srath always through the main path and always in a way that caused them to acknowledge me.” She gestured with her spoon. “After a while they became used to it, I mean, they didn’t look around for me anymore or think I would slip into the village quietly. They probably thought I was dumb for always coming in so naively and running straight into their hands, but this way sneaking in other times was much easier.”

Cara lifted her brow, encouraging Noa to go on with a wave of her hand.

“I guess I just got used to it. When you move around all the time and make enough noise, people don’t expect you to be there if they can’t hear you. It worked just as well when I snuck up on you.” The girl grinned half–heartedly at the memory.

“That’s surprisingly sly,” the Mord’Sith admitted thoughtfully. “And a good tactic.”

“I like to think that I’m a good sneak even without the added trick.” Happy at the compliment from the older woman, Noa dug into her meal with a pleasant aura around her.

Dahlia would’ve been keen of this little trick. She might have used it to make her battles even more devastating. Wondering why she was thinking of Rahl’s master tactician and old lover, Cara shook her head and returned to the here and now, before the trip down the memory lane could cause her to grow nostalgic. “One of the miners stopped by the camp. He offered us a room until the next Dry Storm has passed.”

Licking the last drops from her lips, Noa tilted her head. Freed from the ponytail, the slight wavy hair turned strawberry red in the fire light. “You want to stay there?”

“Since I have yet to experience a Dry Storm, it might not be the worst idea. And we don’t have any other goal at the moment.”

Noa smiled and nodded, ready to turn in for the night. The quirk of her lips turned sour when Cara waved around her dirty bowl.

“Cleaning duties, my servant,” the older blonde reminded her with a smirk.

Grumbling, Noa gathered everything that needed washing and turned towards the lake with a scowl, missing the almost fond look Cara was throwing after her.

* * * * *

After working up their way towards the small miner’s town, the busy inhabitants threw them strange looks once they stepped into their midst. The town was open and widespread, the high vantage point giving it a fantastic view across Darza’s woods and planes and the traveling sun. They didn’t have to stand around out of place for long though, as the young man Cara had met jogged towards them with a friendly smile.

“You really came! I’m happy you decided to accept my offer, in times as these the people should stick together.”

Cara raised her eyebrows at this sermon, but the guy seemed to believe in what he said and had a honest, good intention. If it redounded to her advantage, she wouldn’t complain about it. Her gaze swept over the man–made plateau. “So, you said something about a room?”

He smiled at Noa, who, again with the bandage around her head, mimed the naive, little kid once more and returned it with splendor. Then he waved at them both to follow after him. “Right, it’s just over here. I’m Jasson, by the way.”

“Cara,” the blonde woman ground out uninterested, then pointed over her shoulder. “And Noa.” They trailed behind him, leading the horses towards a small stable near the flat, sturdy house Jasson had pointed out. Most of the buildings here were constructed that way, many of them open towards the rest of the town and filled with everything relevant for basic smelting. There also were a lot more horses than she remembered from the city and when the young man caught her pensive look, he decided to explain.

“This is one of the two mines where all the metal comes from that you use back in Vhep and around. Although it is a harsh journey, a lot of us head back to the city when the snow comes and carry large parts of the metal we dug up, so that the forges in the city can create whatever end product you need. I heard the city head thinks about building a road, but it’s going to take years to reach the mountain.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just settle closer to the mountain?” Cara wondered out loud. Even with being used to the traveling and making good ground it would mean that the miners spent close to six months out on the non–existent road. For Cara that was a lot of uselessly thrown away time that could be used for more important matters.

Jasson opened the barn door with a shrug. “We can’t. There seems to be a line that the Apothics won’t cross and the city and villages are right behind it. Since about three Storms those bastards aren’t interested anymore in coming to our town, but they will attack any other new settlement without mercy.” Walking inside first, he showed them where they could leave their horses. There was just enough space for two more, the other stalls occupied by a trio of other lighter brown mounts.

Asserting his words with a purse of her lips, Cara busied herself with the saddle bags, watching out of the corner of her eye as Jasson did the same for Noa. The girl was perfectly capable of doing the work herself, but instead stuck to her role of dumb city child and let the young man carry her belongings with a sweet smile. He even patted her head before turning around to the entrance, missing the annoyed frown settling on her features after that move. Cara had to hide an amused smirk at Noa’s discontent, realizing that the kid was completely unused to someone treating her like her actual age.

Stepping back into the overcast afternoon, Jasson opened the door to the house they would be staying in until the Storm passed. The interior was small and spartan, but enough to lead a simple life. Of course, here right next to the source the people had much more items made from metal or reinforced with iron than the citizens, another small form of luxury in this world. Jasson showed them their room, which was barely big enough to fit a bed and a small trunk, but it was better than sleeping on the floor. Noa bounced onto it happily after Jasson went outside to return to his duties.

“So,” Cara said, walking around in the small space to throw a look out of the window, “about two or three days before we’re back on our way. We should make any necessary repairs while we’re here.”

“Where do you want to go next?” Noa asked from her spot on the bed, feet kicking up in the air and chin propped up on her forearms.

The Mord’Sith caught her tongue before she could say I don’t know, instead letting herself get distracted by the view. The small window, lockable with a wooden shutter, faced along the Dead Wall on one side and across Darza at the other. A few birds circled above the trees, flying close to the mountain wall and back into the open land, their soft cries echoing back to where Cara was standing.

“I might have an idea,” she finally said slowly, as if weighing down every word. Letting her eyes follow the dance of what she assumed were hawks of some kind, Cara turned the sudden intuition around in her head. Twisting around swiftly, she looked down at an attentive Noa, calculating. “I’m unwilling to settle down, be it here, in the city or anywhere else. So the only option is to keep moving.”

The girl watched her pace around the room, leaving her to speak whatever was on the older blonde’s mind.

“But there isn’t any other worthwhile place to travel to, other than Vhep and the miner’s town.”

Noa’s forehead crinkled, not getting what Cara was implying. She held her mouth closed though, as Cara kept on pacing, one hand holding up her elbow, while her free one played with the longer growing strands of her mussed hair.

“So, considering our current situation and the options left… the best idea would be to travel between them both, maybe carrying goods from one place to the other and making enough money with it to pay for everything we need during our journey.

“Like the merchant traveling between the villages?” Noa fiddled with the bandage on her head in thought.

“Yes, just that our ‘business’ is much more dangerous and time consuming than whatever they are doing back there.” Cara stopped and retreated back to the window. Who would’ve guessed that a Mord’Sith would step as low as becoming a trader? But what was the alternative? Settling down and becoming weak and undriven? No, even the repeated prospect of traveling one route constantly was offering more excitement than that. It wasn’t as if she could go around and hire herself to a merchant route, because there simply was none. And if she tried her luck as bodyguard or headhunter, she would be out of work before her first job.

“Huh, I guess we’re much faster than a whole trek.. we could deliver it much more often than they could,” the girl mused.

“We took our time coming here, but with more horses and knowing the area now that we’ve crossed the land it should be much easier.” Nodding to herself, Cara planned on speaking with Jasson the next day. The young man had to know who in the town was the right contact person for this kind of thing.

After deciding this, both travelers fetched their weapons and left the town to spar away from prying eyes. Although Noa was no match for her, even after three months of training, Cara found the exercise pleasant and knew that the girl was getting better real quick. Maybe in a year or two the fighting would get more interesting and she wouldn’t have to hold back anymore. It was wishful thinking, but focusing on the goal she wanted to reach already turned her mind off of more depressing subjects.

The thick golden light that Cara had come to associate with Darza flooded the air after hours and they turned back towards the mountain. For the Mord’Sith, there was a heavy sense of melancholy in the world around her, speaking of her coming to grips with the circumstance that there was no return to her own home. It filled her veins and flesh, slipped along her skin and gathered in her bones, bringing with it a calm and foreign kind of view that Cara had not known in her life until know. As if the very substance of time itself had slowed down, stretching itself endlessly into the future. Grasping the feel of eternity had never been so close and it scared and elated Cara simultaneously.

Always careful if strange shadows appeared close at hand, they entered the town just as dusk spread its arms around them, the last shimmer of light guiding their way back to the room they stayed in. Jasson’s family had already retired to bed, since they rose and started working very early to use every last speck of light the day offered. But they had left behind a kind donation of food at the threshold of their room. Sated and tired, Cara and Noa slipped beneath the covers, the older woman not even caring that Noa slept by her side despite the comfortable temperatures.

The Dry Storm caught them unaware in the early morning hours.

Assaulted by images Cara couldn’t explain, she writhed on the bed without understanding what was going on. She was hanging from a ceiling just like the time she had been broken by her Mistress, but this was… different. This wasn’t her past. Through a pain filled haze she saw Darken Rahl standing in front of her, slapping her with the leather rod until bruises bloomed on her skin and her ribs nearly collapsed from the pain every time he pressed the tip in between them.

And there was Dahlia, dressed in the red regalia of a full Mord’Sith. It was strange to see Rahl’s master tactician, the proud, dutiful sergeant, standing there with her trademark half–smirk, hair done up in the Sisters tight braid instead of her usual strict ponytail. Dahlia had always been fascinated with the Sisterhood, even subjected herself to their torture after a failed battle, but she had been too old to join the Sisters and to valuable to their leader to become one of them.

Pain flooded her system. Dreams mixed with memory and she could hear herself sobbing as the small girl of mere ten years, exhausted but unable to sleep after hours of torture. She could see the small square of light inside the door that held her in her cell…or was it a window? A thin face with warm brown eyes slipped into her view.. Dahlia, the serving maid. Bringing water and bread like every day after her torture and touching her hand in a warm gesture, strictly forbidden to speak a word. But it was this small touch, these visits that caused Cara to survive another day filled with the horror of her training.

The scene changed and suddenly she was standing next to Kahlan, an inner turmoil that she couldn’t explain keeping her edgy. Strangely enough it revolved around her… child? And then the Mother Confessor glided a hand along her arm down to her fingers, glancing at Cara in a way that had the Mord’Sith aching for the brunette in a million different ways.

Screams echoed in her ear, sometimes her own, sometimes those of subjects tortured in other rooms, sometimes the ones from children and grown–ups experiencing agony at her own hand. A hazy image of Darken Rahl stepping closer with an Agiel dark as the night and covered in runes that made her sick to the stomach. A touch, a spreading burn worse than anything she had ever experienced before and all the separate screams melded together into a cacophony louder than the harshest thunder until her eyes snapped open and she felt her throat go hoarse.

Survival instincts activated on the spot, her natural powers as Mord’Sith forcing the magic that had found its way into her body out with brutal force now that she was awake. Gasping and blinking the sweat out of her eyes, she tried to move her tightly wound limbs.

The assault on her frame went on and it was worse than when she had tried to keep the magic out of her system while inside the Cradle of Death. This force was at least several times stronger. Pushing herself into an upward position, Cara found it hard to see anything past the multicolored, dusty fog that filled the room. Wind rushed past the window, the loud howling sound that carried the moans and screams of the townsfolk reminding her of a violent storm, but the strange substance in the air curled lazily in and around itself as if there was no breeze at all.

In the corner she finally spotted the hunched figure of the girl, holding herself close and watching the older woman with big, fear–filled eyes. The magical energy didn’t seem to affect her.

“I’m all right,” Cara rasped and saw how Noa visibly relaxed against the wall. The sudden screaming and trashing of her protector had shocked her to the core, unable to help the delirious woman in her pain all she could do was retreat and save herself from being attacked by the flailing limbs.

“This is the Dry Storm?”

Noa nodded and rushed to her feet, stepping closer. “Yeah. It started around four hours after midnight. The worst is over, but I assume it will go on for another hour or two.”

“Why aren’t you affected?” Cara asked vexed, still battling the effects of the magic, her jaw clenched.

“Dunno. But I’m not the only one.. some people in the village were nearly unaffected, too. It looks as if all the miners are suffering, though,” Noa replied with a sad look towards the door.

“Tsk, what an annoyance,” the Mord’Sith hissed and forced her aching body to obey her will. Swinging her feet down on the floor, she took deep, calming breaths. “Go and get me some water, if this is such a piece of cake for you.”

Sending Cara a wry smile, the girl quickly left through the door, disturbing the thick dust in the air while passing through it. Cara ripped off her glove, waving her fingers through the air and watching the substance dance around them, but the fog–like dust had no remote feel or taste. It shimmered and sparkled in all kinds of colors and gold when hit by the first rays of sunshine falling in through the window, but wasn’t moved by the strong wind outside the house, looking innocent and harmless to the spectator.

And even more unexplained craziness this world harbors, she thought with a mental sigh, fed up with all the sudden happenings. She could only hope that this was the last surprise for a long time to come. Not having the control about a situation was something Cara hated with a passion and she had been stuck between the chairs for long enough. It was time to seize back the control she had over her life.

Waiting out the Dry Storm with the help of Noa, who fetched everything Cara needed in a heartbeat, the older woman fell back asleep around ten in the morning when the noise stopped and the thrumming of magic receded with the dissolving of the colored dust. She woke up soon again though, not used to sleeping in for so long. Finding Noa missing, she made her way over to the kitchen, only to stop when she heard two voices chatting, catching the rest of an uttered sentence.

“…–why you never ask questions?” That one was without a doubt Jasson.

There was a loud crunching noise and Cara could see Noa biting into a dry cracker in her mind without having to look around the corner. The girl was back into her habit of making as much ruckus as possible.

“Why should I? I don’t talk about myself and she doesn’t talk about herself either. Cara tells me everything I need to know and nothing more and that’s fine.”

“You are two very strange people.”

Cara could imagine Noa’s shrug and couldn’t help but smirk at the important note in the girl’s tone. “Yeah, well, it comes with the job.”

“One I need to talk to you about,” Cara said, revealing in the hard flinch the young man displayed at her sudden entrance and being overheard, while Noa simply hid her cracker with an innocent look.

“Morning, Cara.”

“What did I tell you about eating?” the Mord’Sith asked with a dangerous glint in her eye that had Jasson hunching in fear and the opposite effect on Noa.

“ ‘There are set mealtimes. Eating outside orders results in unprofessional and disorderly behavior,’ “ the girl recited dead–pan. “It was just a cracker, I swear!” Grumbling and knowing that all protests would fall on deaf ears, she held up her hand from under the table and let the rest of the uneaten food fall into Cara’s open palm.

“When it comes to food, you’re worse than a certain old geezer I know. Now get outside and check on the horses.”

Jasson wanted to protest, starting to say that he already had feed and watered all the mounts in the stable, but nearly choked on his tongue when a strong grip clamped down on his shoulder. Sitting down in an overly sultry way, Cara watched the sweating man for another moment or two, one arm slung easily over the back of her chair. Clearly stating that she was way, way out of his league.

“So, Jasson…there is an offer I want to make your town and I need you to tell me whom I have to explain it to…”

Part 10

The first year on Darza:

For the first time in history, a human being had managed to change Cara’s mind with the old crafty tactic of pouting.

For a long time the Mord’Sith had believed herself to be immune to Noa’s pout. The girl had tried to use this trick often whenever Cara forbade her to do this or that, but after realizing that it didn’t work she stopped it… or started to nag her through other means. Nine out of ten times it was the kid who lost and she was a surprisingly good loser, always back to her happy–go–lucky self after a short amount of time, but sometimes even Cara had to give way after understanding that maybe, for example, refusing to show Noa how to ride properly resulted in a chaotic tangle of horses and reins.

That is, until Cara found out that Noa hadn’t actually ever really tried to use her pout.

The matter of conflict was the use of the older woman’s Agiel. Noa’s first contact with the weapons hadn’t been a pleasant one, but knowing that Cara used to train other children and even carried the pain–inflicting weapon all the time with the exception of bathing intrigued the kid to no end. So when Noa had disclosed the wish to learn how to carry an Agiel, Cara’s first reaction, surprisingly, had been to refuse.

That was when the girl had started to sulk. And boy, could she sulk. It went on for a whole week, with Noa refusing to talk, meet her eyes, smile, move around or train properly. It was when she started to say that ‘she wasn’t hungry’ and went to bed without food that Cara started to crack.

She had tried commanding. This worked at least once before Noa went back to not doing what she was supposed to do. But when the Mord’Sith was forced to cook her own food because Noa refused to make a meal due to her being not hungry, Cara started yelling and issuing threats. That worked even less than ordering Noa around.

Faced with a willful, petulant child that she couldn’t raise her hand against for the first time in her life due to some inner personal and odd refusal, Cara was at such a loss that she couldn’t help but agree after almost threatening to leave the kid in the middle of nowhere. In the end, Noa had gotten her will through the power of sulking, which vanished the very second the older woman told her in a exasperated, defeated tone that she could use her damn Agiels.

Every time she went hunting, Cara left one of her weapons lying on the ground near her backpacks. It took days to get used to the girl’s screams and force herself not run back to slap the leather rod out of her hands. But Noa was stubborn as a mule, soon the screams vanished and although Cara returned to the camp to find a deeply exhausted, sore Noa sitting with puffy eyes in front of her bedrolls, it showed that the girl had applied the use of compartmentalizing to deal with the pain of the Agiel quicker than expected.

“Once you get used to it, it’s not so different than trying to block out the blows and kicks,” the girl confessed one night when Cara implied about her process.

A few weeks later, Noa could walk around with the rod in her hand without showing if she was aware of the excruciating agony cursing through her veins. The Mord’Sith was impressed enough that she offered Noa a compliment, causing the girl to smile more brightly than the sun in its zenith. But from that point onwards she kept both Agiels close to herself again after Noa was content with her learning.

Half a year later they had a comfortable routine in their trading business.

When they entered Rorsh, a slightly larger settlement west of Vhep, the villagers were abuzz with the knowledge that the strange travelers and merchants, a woman looking like a Red Lady and a one–eyed kid, carried metal wares from the city. They offered them food and little trinkets, but Cara, as always, refused all but the items they really needed, everything else was useless baggage. Noa went off to find some new leathers for Squiggly’s saddle, while the Mord’Sith started haggling in the tavern after learning that the tavern owners were the local holders of all day to day wares in most of the places they visited.

“I need more from you than just a few bottles of booze. Don’t try to mess around with me,” Cara replied after hearing the price the tavern owner was willing to pay for the block of iron.

“Look, I don’t have any more coins to spare. The locals are busy eating away the hair on my head.” As if to underline his words, his hand went across the bald skin above his forehead.

“Sure, and the new set of benches and tables behind me was given to you by the Goddess because of your honest, reliable work. Let’s see if she drops down a block of metal in front of your door, too,” she spat sarcastically, lifting the heavy weight in its satchel from the ground and turning towards the door.

“Stop! Fine, stop, I’ll pay up. Spirits, you’re ruining me.”

Cara turned back to the grumbling man with a smug look on her face.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll survive…” Throwing the amused words in his scowling face felt good, but before she could top it up with another barbed comment, a ruckus outside the door caused her to pause.

Normally the proceedings of the villagers didn’t interest her in the least. She was doing her job and she was damned good at it, since no one was able to haggle with less mercy and a better poker face than a Mord’Sith. Yet there was a tone in the people’s voices that caused her palms to turn clammy inside their red gloves. Distracted, she tilted her head to listen what was going on outside the building.

Awareness hit her when a loud, bowling voice issued “Kill the witch!”

Forgetting the money that the tavern owner had placed on the bar, Cara turned and ran, rushing out the door to find a whole mob making its way towards the village center, a small square between the farm houses where a well and a raised platform stood. They were dragging something in between their midst, but Cara was unable to get a glimpse until they reached the wooden stage, making their way on top of it.

A cold feeling pooled in her belly. When a big, burly man stepped aside, the Mord’Sith could see a dizzy Noa hanging from the hands of two farmers, all the hate and anger focused in her direction.

And the bandage around her head was gone.

“Here it is, the reason for the Dry Storms which torment us every few months! Can you see the blemish on her face?” The man’s words were answered with a load roar from the enraged crowd.

He went further, spreading his arms to make them heed the importance of his words. “Those monsters are the bane of our existence, touching and reaching into goddess forsaken forces! The sign of her unclean soul, it is so vast that it is pouring out of her very body! Look at the color of her eyes, look at this abomination!” He pointed an accusing finger at his captive.

People screamed and shouted, women cried and clutched at their children. It was as if the Keeper himself had opened the doors to the underworld wide and issued the end of the world, so devastating was the wrath and anguish the people showed in the face of Noa’s bi–colored eyes. The child itself was in a state of daze, a thin trail of blood trickling down her hairline indicating why she was so spaced out.

Cara knew they must have caught the girl by surprise. Noa was as fast and agile as a ferret, her training having given the girl’s natural talents a good boost. If Noa had been aware of someone trying to hit her, she would’ve ducked and ran without anyone able to catch the quick–footed young blonde. But with Noa nearly knocked out cold, all talent in the world wouldn’t help her escape the clutches of the two villagers that kept her from running, their grips hard enough that bruises were bound to form.

When she was able to see this even from afar, the cold dread in Cara’s belly slowly turned into red–hot fury, while more and more villagers poured into the square, attracted by the unusual and loud happenings.

“We need to end this and clean ourselves from this bad sign! We’ll do justice and have the gracious Goddess shine her light on us once again! Free us from this bad fate,” the burly man shouted with vigor towards the very heavens, people raising their fists in approval and reiterating his saying until the whole centre was echoing with the repeat of “Free us! Free us!”.

The killing of an innocent child was turning into a religious sacrifice to their beloved Goddess. When someone pulled a dagger made from bone and offered it to the sermon spewing man, Noa seemed to regain her bearings and became aware of her current situation. After finding herself surrounded on all sides by hateful villagers, her eyes opened wide in fear, she struggled and started screaming in heedless panic, louder than the chant of the combined people.

A thoughtless blow to her chin from one of the men that held her, to stop her screaming and squirming, caused Cara to snap. With an angry growl she charged at the masses, pushing and punching her way through the villagers towards the platform where the riot created by her hands attracted their attention.

“Leave her alone, you idiots!” she shouted at the man with the dagger and Noa’s other captors, her eyes blazing with the promise of danger. “She’s just a normal kid!” Grunting she threw a young man to the side and pushed a wailing woman into the arms of two others. Shock gained her an advantage.

“Don’t let her get through!” the man agitating the folks screamed enraged, his skin turning red. He waved around his weapon. “Bind her, before she reaches the abomination and frees her! She’s going to doom us all!”

His words had an astonishing impact, as suddenly people started to throw themselves at Cara from all sides, hindering her however they could. The Mord’Sith was forced to draw her Agiels and soon pain–filled cries branded against the border of the village.

But instead of causing her opponents to shy away from the agony educing rods, it was as if throwing oil onto an already out–of–control burning fire. Cara had underestimated the people’s fear and hate of magic and was now forced to endure the eruption that followed.

“She wields magic!”

“The harlot has magic weapons!”

“Don’t let let get away!”

“Kill her!”

Cara was a well–trained fighter, who could fell a great number of equally trained enemies in one fight. She could defeat dozens without breaking a sweat and make it look easy to boot. She had bested the Seeker in the future. By the Creator, even her own Sisters needed to outnumber her a great deal to force her to her knees and even the last time they had managed to do so was only by catching her by surprise.

But with a whole town of rabid, fanatical villagers swarming her from all sides without tactic or break, even Cara found herself getting overwhelmed by the sheer number. It reminded her of her last cowardly act of running away from the Apothics and she roared in rage at being unable to win one damned fight in a world she was stuck in since over a whole year.

One after the other they came at her. The Mord’Sith struck a young woman under the chin, then pivoted around to slam her elbow into an older farmers gut. Dropping down to avoid a badly aimed swipe with a walking stick, she rushed forward and pushed her shoulder into a young man’s ribcage, causing him to stumble and take down another two attackers with his fall.

Without time to deliver a heart–stopping amount of pain to any of her enemies, most of the fallen people stood up again groaning and wounded, but after they were back on their feet without swaying they rushed at her again and again. Fear, hate and anger made them reckless. Cara managed to keep them off long enough to always throw a random item or even whole bodies towards the stage, keeping the burly man from getting the idea to kill the still kicking Noa with one simple stab.

The girl herself was yet keeping up quite a fight, turning and twisting into impossible positions and making it hard for the two men to keep their hold on the slippery girl. Even holding a cat or a snake was easier than subduing this screaming monster.

“Stop squirming, you cursed brat!” one of her captors shouted after receiving a bruising kick to the shin.

Cara was now about two feet away from the stage when of all possible people a young boy of mere five summers tackled her ribs while she held off two shrieking harpies of women. She forced the child away out of reflex with a well–placed kick, but her surprise at being attacked by someone this young caused her to be unprepared for the sudden assault of three villagers charging at her from all sides while she was busy with the two women in front of her.

Accepting a harsh blow to her back to bury her foot in one woman’s side with a snarl, she stabbed her Agiel into one attackers shoulder. He dropped with a painful gurgle and she turned to pay back the hit on her back, when another enemy scored one in the rear side of her knee. All strength left her appendage at this lucky shot and with horror the Mord’Sith realized that she was losing ground. With her leg failing, Cara barred her teeth at another young woman while she fell to her knees, causing the brunette to retreat in fear.

But it was only one in a dozen. And now that they could taste the oncoming victory, the almost crazed villagers combined their strength and hacked on her frame with everything they could get their hands on. Blow after blow found its way through her defenses and soon Cara was unable to do anything but shield her face from the attacks.

She only looked up when the desperate screams Noa issued reached her ears. “Cara, Cara,” she cried again and again, her cheeks wet with dirt and blood and the only fear in her eyes that of seeing Cara hurt for trying to get to her.

“Run,” Cara mouthed, unable to shout out another tone next to her harsh breathing and the steady buzzing in her ear. Then a brutal blow caught the side of her head and she felt her body hit the muddy ground.

The last thing she heard while her vision grew black was Noa crying her name in such blank despair and anguish that it drowned out any other sound and feeling but the image of her friends standing in the bleeding sunlight atop the Pillars of Creation. Her heart twisted.

Then silence reigned.

* * * * *

We never talked much, Cara thought while floating along without the added baggage of her body. She felt light and unhindered, as if her body was made of clouds and dreams. Noa and I. A soft sort of wonder infused her at these strange, random thoughts, but before she could grasp it, another took up residence in her mind.

Kahlan’s smile reminds me of sunshine after freshly fallen rain. Noa’s of the first day of snow. She remembered the girl’s freckles shining in the morning light. They were light and pale in relation to her golden tan, different than Kahlan’s darker ones on her milky white skin. Even Richard’s and Zedd’s smile had a brief flash in her memory, both of them good–natured and goofy and simple like plucking berries from bushes.

I feel proud and warm when I receive those smiles, another edge of her unconsciousness offered up. Here, in this inbetween state, awkwardness and hiding feelings had no place. There was plain understanding and uncouth truth, fresh awareness and freedom of thought sans barriers.

I feel good when I’m with them. I feel home. It was nothing much, this fact. Others would have laughed at it, knowing it was common sense and general knowledge. But for Cara, these words, this innocent truth, meant the world to her. It gave her a reason, not only to stay alive, but to live. To live in happiness.

To fight her way back out of this worry–free heaven and back to wakefulness. Back to the harsh reality of soreness and hurt enveloping her body like a familiar and old, worn blanket.

Groaning slightly, Cara could feel hands shaking her body, jerking her already aching limbs. Opening her tired eyes, she grew slowly aware of the frantic voice shouting her name over and over.

“I’m awake, damnit,” the Mord’Sith managed to rasp, dry lips barely forming the vowels. She felt as if an entire village had stomped across her frame.

Waitaminute. An entire village had stomped across her frame.

Dragging her lids up with a burst of energy, she nearly winced at the light that shone unhindered into her pupils. Her head was already throbbing, but now the hammering moved towards the front of her face and behind her forehead. When the blurry images finally started to sharpen, she could see the frame of a frantic blonde kid forming above her head.

“Cara, Cara, please, are you alive? Please be okay!” Noa sobbed, repeating the words in this or a different order without end. When she saw that Cara was awake and very much alive, she stopped babbling in near panic, her mouth closing, only to leave out the occasional hiccup or sniff. Her face was a disaster, wet and blotchy and with tear– and blood–stained cheeks, but for the Mord’Sith it was the most beautiful image since watching the newborn Night Wisps dance through the air.

“I’m going to hang them, each and everyone,” Cara groused and slapped Noa’s hand away when the girl tried to help her up. Bad enough that she had been knocked out by illiterate villagers, needing the help of a child to find her bearings would be the cherry on top of her humiliation. Closing her eyes at the sudden dizziness befalling her at the upright position, she blinked and took a deep breath.

Only to nearly choke at sight of the carnage around her.

“By the Creator…what happened here?!” Cara gasped out and stared in confusion at the village square.

The ground was littered with dead bodies. They were everywhere, atop of each other, propped against the wall, even hanging from the platform, most of their faces distorted in inhuman rage. Even the children hadn’t been spared by the craziness. A shaking Noa huddled close to her, seemingly scared out of her wits by the amount of brutally mangled corpses.

“I…I don’t know…it happened so quickly…you fell down and I thought they would kill me every second, but suddenly they…they turned on each other and… it was horrible. The ones that didn’t have weapons or anything to attack with… they killed each other with their bare hands… they were in a frenzy.” Noa looked past the carnage with a void in her gaze. “I…I survived by hiding under the big man’s body. I don’t remember much.” She rubbed a sleeve across her face in a upset gesture, worn and haunted.

Still in shock at the sudden turn of events and that both of them were alive despite the odds, Cara placed a comforting hand on Noa’s neck and watched as the movement appeared to calm the distraught child. There was an eerie silence in the town, the calm of death slowly creeping into every street and building. The total void of sound caused Cara to get restless.

“We need to get away from here,” she said pointedly, dragging Noa with her into a standing position. They made their way towards the horses, carefully stepping over dead bodies as they went, the kid’s hand clutching the Mord’Sith’s one tightly.

I never imagined myself to lead a child away from a battlefield. Leaving Noa standing beside the calming presence of the horses, she went back into Rorsh to fetch the iron she had dropped at the start of the battle, even entering the tavern to pick up the wooden coins the owner had laid out for her, so all traces leading back to them were erased. And it wasn’t as if he needed the money anymore. She had spotted his corpse beneath that one of a younger woman while returning to the horses.

After leaving behind the horrible scene, the two rode next to each other in silence, the other mounts trailing behind. They went on like this for hours, not even stopping to make a break in the afternoon to clean their skin and bind their wounds. It was near the evening when Noa broke the quiet.

“Cara?”

The Mord’Sith swept her head over her shoulder, looking back at the child that appeared to be deep in troubling thoughts. Already deep bangs were forming under her protégée’s eyes and her face looked drawn and pale.

“Am I a monster?”

Clenching her jaw, Cara turned back to the road ahead of them.

“No. You aren’t.”

Since her back was turned towards Noa, she never saw that the girl didn’t believe her words.

Part 11

The second years on Darza:

“Look what I found!”

A violent sneeze disturbed the forest and caused a flock of birds to leave their trees in shrill protest.

Noa blinked and looked down puzzled at the bouquet of flowers she had picked for Cara. The woman in question was quickly scrambling up from her bedroll, eyes watering at an alarming rate.

“Spirits, take them out of my face!” she yelled and sneezed again.

A few hours later Cara snapped when she could still feel Noa trying to hide a giggle.

“Stop that!”

“I’ve never heard of someone who’s allergic to flowers,” the girl mumbled between her fingers, unsuccessfully trying to cover her smile with both hands. She wrinkled her nose, smiling all the way. “What did they do on your birthday? Throw foliage?”

Rolling her eyes at the ensuing snort, the older woman turned on her horse and glared at her travel companion. “That wasn’t an issue, since Mord’Sith do not celebrate birthdays.”

“Boy,” Noa perked up, her humor forgotten, “then we both don’t have birthdays!”

“So you’re one of the few that never celebrated their glorious day of birth?” she mocked in return. Realizing her error, Cara snapped her mouth back shut. Of course. She fell out of the portal.

“Naw, Grandma wasn’t fond of things like that.” Directing her mount to trot next to her protector’s, she leaned forward in her seat to beam at Cara. “Hey, can I become a Mord’Sith now, too? I can use an Agiel.”

“You’re unable to fulfill the breaking,” Cara drawled while watching the forest ahead, “you don’t have the parents required for it.”

If her words had hurt the girl, it didn’t show. Instead the older blonde had to keep the lively girl from falling off the moving horse after attempting several kinds of handstands on the saddle.

It was always the same with Noa. While the kid had a knack for fighting and athletic exercises, she had yet to learn how to keep her nose out of things, curb her curiosity and stop getting herself into dangerous situations, always acting reckless and impulsive. Just like the time Cara showed her how to identify the trail of a wild boar and its young shoats.

Turning around to head back to the horses, Cara realized something was wrong when she couldn’t hear Noa… and not hearing the girl was never a good sign.

“But at this time of the year you have to watch out, as the mother boar will protect her pigl–… hey, are you even listening?” Silence.

“Noa?” Searching around her, Cara got a bad feeling. Oh, she wouldn’t…

Damn it, of course she would.

About ten seconds later when Cara rushed into the direction the girl had most likely run off to, her search was made invalid.

As a few feet in front of her, a screaming Noa erupted from the bushes.

“Caraaaaaa!!”

All while flailing her arms and scrambling away from a fuming and huffing boar hot on her heels. The girl was fast enough that she was able to zig–zag before the wild animal, thus slowing her pursuer down by forcing it into constant turns and change of directions, but the boar was quite persistent. It would’ve been amusing, if the Mord’Sith didn’t have the strong need to slap her hand against her forehead.

Instead she dragged herself up a tree and settled down on a wide branch. The very moment that the hollering girl was at hand, she grabbed her at the collar and hauled her up into safety. Left alone and without a target that could harm her young, the angry mother boar squeaked and pawed at the ground, then retreated back into the underbrush after several rounds around the tree.

Noa, dangling from the branch with her legs swinging in the air, raised her gaze sheepishly towards an equally fuming Cara.

“I…uhm…wanted to see the piglets?” she offered carefully and yelped when the older woman kicked her off the tree. But Cara knew her trainee well and watched unamused as Noa flipped in the air and landed on her two feet with a labored puff of air. Then she dropped down next to the girl.

Folding her arms and continuing to pin Noa to the spot with a piercing glare and pursed lips, the kid let her shoulders drop soon.

“I know, sorry… I’m not supposed to run off and I need to listen until you’ve finished talking.”

“You can guess your punishment.”

“Seven nights without my bedroll?”

“Make that ten.”

“Aw geez…”

A few weeks later on their way back towards the Dead Wall they rested near a stream and while squeezing the water from her hair after getting dressed, Cara found that the strands had grown quite long. They were close to falling past her shoulder blades, a few months more and she would be back to the length she had sported before her Sisters had marked her as a traitor.

“Noa, get over here. I need you to braid my hair.”

While sitting down on a rock, she watched as Noa came closer with a crestfallen look. “Like… the Mord’Sith braid?”

“Exactly.”

“But… you look so strict with that braid. You’re much prettier with your hair open…or in a light ponytail.”

Cara swiveled around and stared the girl down with a dour look, until Noa slipped into a pout and came near to do as her protector commanded. That didn’t mean she had to like it. It was clear from the beginning that the younger blonde had a personal vendetta against the stern braid now back on Cara’s head, but she was unable to talk the older woman into letting her hair back down besides bathing times. Not even a ridiculous amount of sulking did the deed.

When autumn found its way back to Darza once more, Cara decided to show her reckless travel companion how to use bow and arrow, in case she needed to go hunting on her own. There was no doubt that Noa was now quite able to find and sneak up to her prey, but without a proper long range weapon all the hunting skills in the world wouldn’t help her catch a dear or boar. Although it would’ve been amusing to watch the skinny girl try and wrestle a wild animal into submission.

Though getting the kid to understand how to notch an arrow, draw the bow and mark her shot was ten times harder than teaching her melee fighting moves, as Noa was unable to find the right concentration to focus on her target.

“This is useless,” Noa exclaimed disheartened after arrow number ten–thousand and then some got lost in the trees in a wide ark away from the actual mark.

The Mord’Sith furrowed her brows, crossing her arms in thought. “Why can’t you focus? It’s not that hard. Your shots are so far off the mark that I’m starting to think you’re able to hit anything but the spot you want to.”

Scowling, the girl placed the end of the bow on the ground, leaning onto the wood. “I can’t help it! Every time I try to focus on something that’s this far away and not part of my body, I’m getting all woozy.” She puffed a strand of hair out of her face. “Concentration and me don’t go well together.”

Rubbing her temple and chin, Cara tried to think of a way to teach Noa the concentration she needed. But whatever exercise she tried, everything failed disastrously. If it didn’t belong to her own limbs or was directly close to it, like the wooden daggers Cara had made for her training, she couldn’t focus her mind on it for longer than a few seconds. Sometimes it appeared as if Noa was as clumsy and blind as a heavily near–sighted person when she tried to aim, although her eyes were perfectly fine.

Frustration rose in both of them when there was no improvement. When it was obvious that Noa was hardly trying anymore and ready to throw her bow off a cliff, Cara opted to have one last try.

“Here,” she said without explanation and pressed one of the Agiels in the confused girl’s hand. She always left one of the leather rods behind in camp for Noa’s protection, since the girl was now strictly forbidden to enter any village besides the miner’s town, and then only if she stuck to Cara’s side all the time.

“No archery training anymore?” the kid asked with a hopeful look, both eyes glimmering a similar blue–green in the afternoon sun.

Cara arched her brow. “Don’t pray on it. The Agiel may improve your focus as it does mine, so go over there and train. And I want you to train properly.” Under the Mord’Sith’s pressuring gaze, Noa pinned the Agiel under her belt and trudged off towards the spot where she could see a line of trees behind the meadow they were standing in.

The older woman busied herself with other small chores, like sharpening her knives and repairing a leather string on her leg. The armor she was wearing was suffering from the constant use, but the material was tough enough that it would be fine for another few years if she took good care of it. The only item that had to be constantly replaced were the strings, thanks to the continuous removal before wading into the cleaning water.

Ptwaaaaang…

Great. That one sounded like a straight fail. Maybe, if she was patient, Noa would finally make progress, for Cara was at the end of her wits. If the Agiel didn’t work, nothing would.

Ptwaaaaang…

If she was lucky, Noa’s bad aiming might hit an unsuspecting bird or animal. She wouldn’t mind eating fresh meat tonight, since Cara wasn’t in the mood to go hunting herself after having to play lost–and–found with the small army of arrows the girl always managed to scatter daily into every cardinal direction. But judging the sounds, her luck would be lost this time.

Cara sighed and pulled the knot on her pants taut with one hand.

Ptwaaaaang…thud.

“I did it! Mom, I hit my target!”

Several things happened at once.

Noa dropped her bow, slapping her hands over her mouth after gasping in shock at what she had said, fearfully turning towards Cara in the hopes her loud shout had not reached her.

Cara went rigid, clenching her jaw and fist with equal strength that it caused the knife in her grip to crack softly. And in the distance, the first clap of a rumbling thunder rolled across the land, bringing with it the promise of rain and cold.

Anyone close would’ve been able to count the heartbeats passing while the scene appeared to be frozen in time.

“Get the arrow,” Cara dictated in a voice devoid of emotion and feeling after several moments of tense silence, rising in a controlled, motoric motion. “We’re leaving the open land.”

“Cara, I…”

“That was an order.”

With that she stalked back to the horses, not once looking back at a devastated Noa who was close to tears.

The quiet between them turned heavy and strained again. They didn’t talk about it. Cara was terse towards Noa, commanding the girl with short, clipped sentences and refusing to look at her, acknowledging her fully, until one night the younger blonde shuffled closer to her lying frame with her head hanging low.

“I’m really sorry, Cara. I…”

The crackling of the fire filled the silence. Noa was grasping for an explanation.

“I… just imagined it in my head… I didn’t want to speak it out loud.” Heavy humiliation laced her tone.

Lying with her front facing the dark wood, the Mord’Sith felt a strange pain behind her ribs every time she thought back to Noa’s words. Unknown feelings stuck in her throat, making it hard to breath and think. It was equal to losing your footing on uneven ground.

“Don’t ever say it again,” she snapped, for a moment back in her old persona before she had served under a new Lord Rahl. She could imagine the girl’s wince even without seeing her.

It’s a foolish dream. It’s a ridiculous notion.

And yet… It was hard on them both if she kept up this heartless facade. The time where she had been able to live without another human being she could call a friend, without any ordinary small talk or occasional show of feeling, was long past. “Get to sleep now,” Cara replied more quietly and softer as if drained by the topic, listening as the girl’s footsteps found their way back to her own mat.

Normalcy returned almost fully the next morning, the subject placed aside like an open secret that was carefully ignored. The only upside and lingering effect to the incident was that Noa was finally able to shoot an arrow where she wanted it to hit when Cara loaned her an Agiel, exchanging her outright random lethality with the slow progress and first steps of becoming an average archer.

Part 12

The third year on Darza:

While Cara was busy exchanging wares with the villagers of a far east place, another Dry Storm hit the land. After three years of enduring this obscure phenomenon and being lucky that she herself had not stumbled into more than a few groups of roaming Aphotics when near the Dead Wall, the Mord’Sith was starting to get used to forcing the immense concentration of magic out her body. Sadly, she was unable to move far during that time. Their incident with Rorsh had thankfully been put of by the rest of Darza as an aggressive assault by the lightless creatures, so that no one brought the traveling duo into context with the demise of a whole village. Cara was almost ready to accept this explanation just as well, as she couldn’t explain even today what might have put the people into such a frenzy that they had lashed out against their own.

Stuck in the village for three days, she hastened her way back to the camp after the Storm was over. What she found stunned her.

Noa was tumbling professionally over the grass. That in itself was nothing unusual with the child having gotten quite good due to her constant training. What was missing though was the ponytail that always swung behind her when she performed her moves.

“Did you cut your hair?” Cara asked while furrowing her brow, wondering if she was imagining things.

“Yep,” Noa confirmed after an impressive somersault, then turned into executing several cartwheels.

“Why?” The cut was akin to the one Cara had sported for one year while traveling all across the Midlands, just shorter. But Noa’s hair was thicker and more curly, making her hairdo look even wilder than that of the Mord’Sith. It fit her overall look, as Cara constantly compared her to a hyperactive ferret or a sly fox anyway.

“Just ’cause.”

Noa turned her head towards Cara, her face upside down in a handstand. While the older woman walked past her trainee, she hocked her ankle around Noa’s left wrist and pulled. The girl just let out a short, amused laugh and relocated her weight onto her other arm. They played this ‘game’ all the time, with Cara testing Noa’s abilities at random and trying to catch the tumbler off–guard, but with the younger one in her third year of training that never set out even if Noa was complaining about a muscle ache, there were rare moments that Cara found herself truly able to interrupt Noa’s balance to the point of tipping her over. Another problem was that her trainee became used to the Mord’Sith’s way of acting and was constantly on guard anyway.

After leaving the village behind, Noa got strangely secretive. She could hardly wait until Cara left to sell the wares and seemed strangely agitated whenever she returned with the new supplies. Not that an agitated Noa was something new, but even for the restless kid it was unusually vigorous.

It wasn’t until spring that Cara found out the reason behind Noa’s out of line behavior.

They were standing on the highest hill between the Dead Wall and Vhep and found themselves in quiet awe at the view laid out before them. With the last snow gone, the world had erupted in the brightest color of green imaginable, the rich hue a pleasant change to the months spend surrounded in bleary white and gray. The clouds formed fantastic shapes in the distance, illuminated by the golden and red rays of the evening sun. The sky was awash with every pastel shade nature provided.

Gazing at the spectacle, Cara almost didn’t feel the fingers tucking at her belt. “Yes?”

Squinting, Noa stood beside her, dressed in her usual traveling garb. The leather and fabric of her clothes was starting to show signs of wearout after the years, with the young one also growing at an alarming rate. Distracted by the knowledge that the girl could very well surpass her in height one day – and oh wonder, how surprising was that – she realized only after several moments that her servant turned travel companion was hiding something behind her back.

“What is it?”

“Uhm, Cara…you know,” the kid began nervously, scuffing her foot in the dry earth beneath her bare foot. Cara remembered the boots being discarded days after they started towards the Dead Wall for the first time, the footwear only appearing once the surface was cold enough to cause frost nip. “Today it’s three years since the day you found me.”

Three years. How old is she now? Ten? No, closer to eleven. Creator, I already spent three years on this world. “You’re right,” Cara admitted softly, her gaze captured again by the fascinating play of colors in the heavens. So much time. It feels like I left the Midlands just yesterday, and yet it feels like I’ve been here forever.

It was hard to say if the knowledge scared her, but at one point she had simply accepted her fate and focused her being on her new purpose… protecting and training Noa. It wasn’t much different than combining her service to the Lord Rahl and the way of the Mord’Sith of creating new warriors and Sisters into one and projecting it onto a single human. It gave her a reason to wake up in the morning and to stay alert no matter where she was.

She wondered how she would have fared on Darza without the year she had spent with the Midlanders, whom she never talked about to Noa. Probably ripped apart by superstitious Darzanians within the first month.

“I made you something.”

That got the older woman’s attention. Looking back down, she saw Noa thrusting something towards her with her fingers splayed wide.

It was a flower. Actually, the blossom of a Forget–me–not – made from Noa’s honey colored hair.

“Since you can’t stand real flowers, I thought a fake one would be better. It’s… a thank you gift.”

The fragile looking blossom glistened strawberry red in the setting sun, the whole item big enough to fit comfortably into the palm of her hand. It was well–made and the amount of hair worked into it told Cara that the girl had most likely needed several tries to get it right. That was the reason why the girl had wanted her gone so often: she needed the time to tinker in secret.

Staring at the unexpected gift with a steady burning behind her eyes, she could feel Noa shift awkwardly with her arm still holding the flower out to her. Forcing herself to move, Cara pulled the glove off of her right hand and reached out to take the fake blossom between her fingers. It was soft and thick and much sturdier than she had imagined it to be, reinforced with thin, neatly cleaned sticks of wood.

It was the first gift Cara had received since her childhood and by far the most thoughtful one. She found herself swallowed up in a confusing pile of emotions.

“It’s beautiful,” the Mord’Sith managed to quietly and contemplatively force out past the lump in her throat. “Thank you.”

Noa smiled and exhaled in relief. Beaming happily at her teacher, she scurried back to the horses, leaving the older woman to fight off the tightness in her chest and the tears threatening to burn her eyes to dust.

Rubbing a gloved hand over her suspiciously glistening lashes, Cara stood with the gift clutched gently between her fingers until the last light lay down to sleep beyond the horizon.

The scene caused Cara to rethink her standpoint on birthdays, or better, the act of giving gifts over the coming months.

While she was strictly against parties and empty orations about long life and happiness and especially stupid magician shows for adults that were more suitable for screaming brats with sticky hands, the method of showing others their appreciation, be it for the fact that they existed or as a reward for something they’d done, actually wasn’t such a bad idea. It wasn’t unlike the privilege of favour exerted by the rulers and authorities, just on a much smaller scale. If used correctly, it may even be better than a well executed carrot–and–stick–approach.

So then, at the height of summer after Noa was able to hold her own against her trainer for the first time without losing outright like every other training, Cara brought with her a small bag filled with sugary sweet treats made from honey, fruit and dough after she returned from her trade. And placed it into a slack–jawed Noa’s hands.

“If you get tooth decay, don’t come running to me.”

“Candy! Boy, I never had any candy before!” The kid munched on a treat, happy like a purring cat. “Thanks! This tastes great, want one?”

Grimacing at the thought of her mouth filled with pure sugar, Cara pushed the bag away. “No, I like my teeth intact, thank you very much,” she replied dryly.

Noa only smirked and chewed away without a care in the world. But in the end she paid heed to Cara’s opinion and took special care with cleaning her mouth after finishing with the sweets. The gift did the trick and the girl was even more eager to make her teacher proud during training.

A few weeks later, they had to deal with a loss that nearly devastated the girl. After limping and behaving strangely for a few days in a row, Noa checked Squiggly, the horse she was riding, from head to foot with Cara’s help, both women combining their knowledge of the equine animal to a sad diagnosis. The horse was ill, fatally so, and Cara was forced to lead the mount away and put a quick, merciful end to it, unable to let the faithful animal suffer any longer than necessary.

With her favourite mount gone, Noa cried herself to sleep for several nights, Cara unable to do anything but sit close to the child and hold her hand occasionally. The Mord’Sith knew there were no words that eased the pain of losing a loved being and with the younger blonde’s history it was no wonder that she had erected such a strong bond to the good–natured horse. Noa found gradually back to her usual happy self, but the nights spent beside the grieving young girl stuck with Cara.

While the girl was washing herself in the river they were traveling past, which originated somewhere in the east of the Dead Wall and wormed its way towards the south, Cara sat nearby with a contemplative look on her face. This had been the first night the girl had been able to sleep without waking up in the early hours sobbing her heart out, though she would go on mourning for a while.

As Noa scrambled back out of the water and hurried into her freshly washed clothes, Cara decided to be spontaneous and leaned forward, drawing an odd look from her trainee.

“You have one free wish.”

Noa furrowed her nose in her adoringly confused way. “I can’t follow you, Cara.”

The Mord’Sith waved her hand around, then fiddled with her now nearly hip–long braid. “A wish. You may wish for something that is humanly possible. We could catch and break in a new horse. Or buy more sweets. Whatever you can think off.”

Bi–colored eyes shone in childish anticipation. “Anything?”

“Humanly possible. And preferably not too demanding. And by no means, nothing that counts as humiliating.” She held up a warning finger as a slow smile spread across Noa’s thin lips.

“All right.”

Cara waited. Both of them looked at each other for several moments, judging and having their own little fight of wills. Cara lost when Noa’s smile brightened unexpectedly, the similarity to a cheeky fox never more pronounced than now.

“I want the braid gone!”

“You’re kidding me,” Cara exclaimed floored.

“Naw.” Noa placed her fists on her hips, leaning forward a tad. “No Mord’Sith braid anymore. That’s my wish.”

Cara glowered at the smirking kid, weighing if she could still get out of her offer. But leaving her hair open was a small price for seeing Noa delighted and happy again after such long period of sadness. With a deep, annoyed sigh she shifted, leaving Noa to untangle her braid and straighten out her strands with a joyful laugh.

Cara got used to the new hairstyle very quickly. That the girl was eager to brush her teacher’s hair in the morning certainly helped, reminding her vaguely of her Sisters work in the temples.

The braid didn’t return.

Part 13

The fourth year on Darza:

Occasionally, but not often, Cara would be reminded of her past. She was used to compartmentalization and a master at repression, so it was no wonder that over the years she took all her memories and pushed them into a small, imagined chest that she closed off and hid somewhere in the darkest corner of her consciousness. It was safer that way, less painful for her mind, as without doing this her being would’ve been ripped apart into little, lifeless pieces by homesickness long ago.

But sometimes when she touched her Agiels, if she was distracted, she grew reminiscent of Richard and the memory of her bond to the Lord Rahl. Ever so often while watching the pot simmering a picture of Zedd and his eating habit would come into her mind. After cleaning her leathers, she would recall times long gone with Dahlia. Yet the hardest thing to hide away was the image of intense blue eyes and the warm smile that lit them up like the rising dawn. The Mother Confessor was haunting her dreams even after everything else started to slip away gradually, becoming lost in the fog that Cara was conjuring up out of her own free will.

It will get better in time, she told herself, the hurt will lessen. You will grow used to this pain just like you did to every other kind. The hope that this would be the case kept her repression strong. Kept her from acknowledging that she had been left behind.

What helped was the companionship she had built up with Noa. It was like a soothing blend of how she worked with her Sisters and the friendship binding her as much to those she had traveled with as the Lord Rahl bond did. The two of them had a pleasant and unspoken ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy, didn’t speak about meddlesome side business like feelings and things past, but, most importantly, there was no constant, annoying touching and hugging. The girl looked after Cara’s hair with utmost care, but that was just like her Sisters would have done.

Well, maybe without the loud off–key whistling.

But Noa was no Mord’Sith. Although she could carry the agony educing leather rod by now around as easily as a cooking spoon, her constant movement, upbeat character and insolent mouth wouldn’t have only driven the whole temple mad, but would’ve also insured that she spent more time counting tiles while hanging from the dungeon ceiling than out in the sun. Although, as much as she wanted to strangle the brat from time to time for doing reckless stunts like jumping into the water with a jolly scream when Cara was bathing or dancing around the fire while the Mord’Sith tried to sleep, it kept her from missing the helpless fools in the Midlands too much. The fact that they had left her here spoke volumes and she had the hardest time to try and not feel betrayed. She was just a tool, a weapon, why search for someone they could replace with another red–clad sister?

Cara didn’t even realize how much she got used to taking care of the kid and being around her when she shot off the third farmer making a pass at her in the tavern she was selling the metallic goods at. Staying away for a few hours longer to indulge in such time–consuming actions like copulation seemed wasted and would only make her more nervous about Noa’s well–being.

Was she a save distance away from the village? Had she broken her neck while exercising a completely useless flip? What if she grew sick? Or maybe she set herself on fire again, after figuring out a few weeks ago that playing with flames was fun. Having projected her concern about her Lord Rahl onto Noa, the shift from mere duty to affection had been subtle and gone over her head. Maybe she also had just turned her gaze the other way, simply refusing to deal with the fact that she cared.

Swinging herself into the saddle of her recently acquired new horse, which her trainee had insisted on calling Cujo, the Mord’Sith rode back out into the woods, ignoring the sad gaze the rejected young man sent after her.

Once she was a safe distance away, she slowed down and patted the horse’s long golden neck. “Dumb farmboys and prudish housewives, nothing that’s worth our status, huh, boy?”

Cujo nickered, throwing up his head in a gesture suggesting affirmation. When Noa had sworn that this would be the perfect mount for the older blonde, Cara had scoffed at first. But now, sitting atop the golden, white–flecked steed, she believed there would never be another one like him. Again she stroked her hand across the coarse, golden fur, then spurned him on.

After noon they would eat the rest of the deer that Cara had shot the day before, and the Mord’Sith was eager to reach the camp to fill her protesting stomach. Another good reason to hurry was the light start of a drizzle that poured out of the clouds.

Curse this weather! The wet leather is a pain to get dry again.

When Cujo stomped into their camp and came to rest next to the other three horses they traveled with, the other mounts neighed agitated and shuffled their hoofs on the ground. Confused at their reaction, Cara slid from the saddle, sending them a wondering look.

“I’m gone for a few hours and you already start behaving like I’m a stranger? Just see if you get an apple from me again.”

But the horses didn’t shy away from her, staying restless even when she laid a calming hand on their noses. Their distress was of other nature.

“Noa, did you feed them one of your strange herb mixes again? Because, I swear to the Creator, if they stay this skittish, the next time you can drink it down yourself…” Expecting a peeved answer, the Mord’Sith was surprised at the silence.

She peaked around the animal’s bodies. “Noa?”

The camp was deserted.

Furrowing her brow, Cara stepped closer, looking for signs where the kid might have run off to. Her sleeping roll was still lying on the ground, thrown of in a hurry and now soaked from the steadily growing drizzle.

This was the point where Cara started to grow anxious. An internal alarm went of, every instinct screaming at her that something was wrong.

“Noa!” she shouted louder. No answer.

But it caused the Mord’Sith to focus and listen intently. And that was when she heard the shouting.

Propelling herself forward, Cara felt the pain of the Agiel race across her nerves and flesh before she realized that she had drawn it. Muddy dirt and pieces of the soil sprayed to all sides when her boots hit the earth, twigs and leaves slapping like whips against her leather, like tiny, vicious hands grabbing her, slowing her down, holding her back.

Nothing was able to deter the Mord’Sith from their goal. No crossbow’s arrows, no deadly wound and certainly nothing irrelevant like dense forest.

There were prints in the mud, people had come through the underbrush and had run in the same direction. The angry shouts and sounds of scuffle were coming closer. The world around her turned to a blur, her legs burning from pushing forward even faster, until the green foliage around her grew light.

There were twelve, maybe more. In the fraction of a second Cara gathered all the information she needed: an open field with thrown up earth from the many feet stumbling back and forth, a group of grown men punching and hacking and raging, the lithe figure of Noa that blocked, evaded and dodged while her face was drawn with building exhaustion and fear.

“Kill the demon! She’s getting tired!”

Without slowing down even a moment, Cara sprinted forward, using her speed to hit the jaw of the man closest to her with a force that broke bone like dry branches. It sent him reeling, unable to utter even a single sound before he slammed on the ground.

Still in her momentum, her Agiel found the side of another opponent. If the leather rod had been a dagger, it would’ve sunk in to the hilt, but this way the unfortunate victim was filled with enough pain to let loose an ear–shattering cry, alarming the others to her presence.

“The other one is back, quick!” someone prompted, causing two others to throw ropes in the hope to catch and immobilize her.

Catching the ridiculous attempt of subduing in her free hand with an angry growl, she janked hard, causing the two attackers to stumble in surprise at the Mord’Sith’s strength. The muddy earth and relentless rain made it hard for untrained people to keep their footing.

Judging the state of the field, Noa had been protecting herself against her would–be killers for quite a while. Even yet the kid was jumping and tumbling around, harder to hit than a frantic bird. Although she had been unable – or unwilling? – to counter their attacks, the villagers hadn’t fared much better.

It made Cara proud to see her student fight so well, but the feeling was blanketed by the stronger current of battle lust and loathing that had her in their grip.

“You’ll pay for this, you cowardly bastards,” she hissed between her teeth at a horrified man, who found his end on his knees by her Agiel. Seeing him go down, the other ones split up between her and Noa with angry howls.

“This is for Rorsh!” one screamed and tried to hit her with a shovel and all his power, but she merely grabbed the incoming wooden part right under the shovel blade with an unimpressed sneer, catapulting the handle back into his face with a flick of her arm. Blood sprayed, the nose cracking like thick paper. The man stumbled back with a yell.

“You brought Rorsh onto yourself, so stop wailing!” Sending a kick to her rear end, Cara planted her foot deeply into an enemy’s gut, satisfaction filling her at his painful retch. Spirits, this felt good! She hadn’t realized how much she missed delivering agony until now. And the rightful anger filling her about these scumbags trying to execute her trainee once again drove her forth without stopping to catch her breath.

The Agiel sung its symphony of anguish and in the middle of her fight she found the other one that Noa had discarded on the ground after her teacher had entered the scuffle. A short glance to the right showed her the girl still evading blows, a foreign and serious look of concentration on her young face. From time to time Noa used the annoyed attacker’s whole frames for her stunts, pushing herself from shoulders and swinging around arms and legs with swift skill.

“Keep them warm for me!” Cara threw over at her, a mad grin stretching across her face while dealing with two villagers at once. She played with them, like a cat pushing around her doomed prey with a curled paw. And they knew that they were helpless against this deadly predator, but desperation and the feeling of mad revenge kept them coming.

They all fell with their last image being that of a mercilessly grinning Mord’Sith. It would haunt them even in a world far beyond this one.

They’re tough, she had to admit that. The ones she didn’t manage to kill or knock out stood up after a short while, intend on fighting to their last breath. Every D’Haran soldier in her home–world should have been half as persistent as these farmers, but if that had been the case, the journey to bring the Stone of Tears to its destined place would’ve been even more demanding.

Maybe it was better if this display of perseverance stayed in Darza.

Forcing her foot down on her opponent’s upper leg, it was the slippery ground that saved his limb from being broken by the hit. Instead he lost his footing and crashed to the ground, the back of her heel knocking him out for good.

Cara ducked, slashed and dropped another one. The next time she let herself be hit from the side, she caught the offending wrist between her arms. A twist, a snap. The man screamed, drawing back his broken arm, then grew silent when she back–handed him harshly with her Agiel.

No mercy.

Not even the D’Harans and Sisters of the Dark had been so brutally wrecked by the Mord’Sith, her hand forced into giving compassion and quick deaths to her enemies near the looming, good–hearted presence of her traveling companions.

But right here, right now, there were no borders, rules or civility that could keep her blood–thirsty beast of sadism contained. Without the gentle leash she was breathing dread.

Three more man lay on the ground, groaning and sobbing in pain, just as unable to die as they were to move. Pulling the feet out from under the last opponent that stood, she left her weapon to dangle dangerously from her wrist and near his skin, while her free hand snatched his throat to keep him upright, but with both feet scrambling on the mud beneath his soles.

“I will leave the rest of you alive, mangled and hurting, so that you finally understand that you can’t win against us. And if you or anyone else comes near us one more damn time, what happened to you today or back in Rorsh will be a gentle prodding compared to what I will do then, understood?”

As if unable to decide if to spit in her face or pee his pants, the thinly bearded man, most likely just a few years older than Cara, trembled speechlessly in her grip, nearly choking on the tight hold she kept on his neck. In the end she simply pushed the Agiel into his temple until his eyes rolled back and he collapsed with a gurgle.

“Spineless scum,” she spat, kicking the unconscious hard enough into the ribs to leave a bruise. Still feeling the adrenalin of the battle dance through her flesh, she took a few, deep breaths to settle her center.

Until she could feel a certain amount of calm envelop her insides again. Pulling away the by now wet blond hair that clung to her neck, Cara looked around, the long strands now draped nearly along the whole length of her back.

“It’s fine, Noa!” she called over her shoulder, her gaze wandering across the ground, littered with bodys both dead and alive. “Let’s go back, so that I can teach you a few things about actually using the weapons I leave for your protection,” she added dryly, looking with distaste at the dried mud sticking to the second leather rod.

Turning around slowly, her eyes swept across the edge of the treeline. Where was the brat? In the middle of the fight she had seen the girl slipping through her enemy’s arms with ease, but the men around her had all come to engage Cara sooner or later.

This is not a game. If she uses her hiding trick, she’ll get an earful from me.

Stepping towards the end of the field, not minding the groaning frames she kicked while walking, she let out a weary huff. Not needed anymore, the weapons went back into their holster. Her leathers were drenched by now and stuck to her skin. Great, just what I needed.

“Get over here, you foolish, little–…”

The sight that greeted her barely past the first trees stopped her cold. She knew that slumped figure. She had called for it.

Forgetting the battle, her surroundings, even her annoyance, Cara rushed forward and dropped to her knees next to the girl, whose back was turned towards her, arms and legs sprawled before her body.

If I get the son of a bitch that knocked her out, I’m going to strip off every inch of his skin until I can pull out his veins single–handedly! she thought angrily, putting a gloved hand on Noa’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you got hit,” Cara mumbled more to herself than to the unconscious kid, “you’re quick enough to outrun a horse herd.”

The Mord’Sith pulled the body around with the intention of carrying her back to the camp, as it was raining pitchforks. It was getting hard to see past a few meters.

But Cara was still able to clearly see the dead, lifeless eyes gazing unseen into the clouded heaven and the knife sticking out from where shoulder meet neck. Rain mingled with ruby red blood, slipping down the tanned skin and into the grassy soil, a fine–webbed river of lost life.

It was a throwing dagger.

She could never focus on ranged weapons without the Agiel, Cara remembered numbly, body frozen with shock, disbelief. The water grew cold on her skin, ragged breath slipping out between her open lips.

It couldn’t be happening. Noa couldn’t be dead. Noa was the very epitome of life, with her easily given smiles and joyful movements. Stilling the girl’s heart was like robbing spring of its rebirth.

Cara could feel herself start to shake, from a spot deep inside her soul outward until her whole frame and fingertips trembled softly with speechless terror as she gently stroked a few dirty strands of hair away from Noa’s cold forehead.

She can’t just slip away like this. She can’t leave me alone. Cara felt her chest burn and constrict until she was convinced her ribs would simply collapse into themselves. But then a sound forced its way out of throat.

A whimper.

A sob.

She can’t leave me too.

The agony flaring up behind her breastbone was like that of an Agiel on naked skin, just deeper and more scarring, a pain that the leather rod could only ever achieve by being touched to a body not your own.

And for a moment the Mord’Sith was nine again, dirty and bruised, watching a young girl her age, a friend, being tortured to death just to show Cara what it meant to feel. What it meant to hurt. That there was no greater demise than the one given to compassion.

Cara died all over again when the lifeless girl’s face changed to Noa’s: Broken, empty. Dead.

“This isn’t going to end like this,” she growled despite her heaving chest, despite the tears that mingled with the rain running down her cheeks. Desperation flared up inside her. “They won’t win. They can’t.”

Praying for the first time since she could remember – to the spirits, to the Creator, to anyone kind enough to listen to a broken woman – that the girl’s windpipe was intact, she cradled the small corpse close to her body and carefully slipped the blade free. The sound of razor sharp metal against Noa’s flesh made her want to shout and scream and rage until her voice grew hoarse.

For a second she was scared, terrified down to her very core, that her abilities would fail. That the time spent away from home had diminished them, or that the wild magic coursing through the land had twisted them beyond recognition.

The thought of spending the years on Darza alone was devastating. The thought of never seeing the two different colored eyes laugh again was worse.

Her breath hitched and she forced herself to inhale anyway, to gather every tiny fragment of her power in her lungs. What had once come with ease was a trial this time and not even her rigorous training as a Mord’Sith helped to keep away the despair.

Exhaling the almost burning warmth that had gathered in her freezing body, the misty, silver fog floated down into Noa’s open mouth, pale, bloodless lips slack without life to animate them.

Cara held the girl tightly against her, chin touching the soaked hair of Noa’s head. She prayed.

Breathe.

Please, breathe.

The tiny frame stayed cold. Cold, wet and limp. Cara pressed her lids close until everything was dark and empty, the only sound that of the rain drops pelting the ground and rustling the leaves above them. A quiet symphony of regret and grief.

Please.

“Mommy…?” a small, scratchy voice mewled disoriented.

Cara’s gaze snapped down, watching a green and a blue eye blinking away tears and rain drops that had fallen from the older woman’s chin. Noa’s face was confused, the only feeling that of being safely held close to a familiar body that she couldn’t place.

But she felt warm. Save. Protected.

Home.

“I’m here,” Cara whispered quietly. She hid her features in the honey blonde hair, pulling Noa impossible close until the chains on her chest fell away and she could breathe freely and deeply again. The relief that chased away the pain in her soul was the warm and forgiving. “You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry.” The tiny whisper was one of guilt. Humiliation. Afraid of having disappointed Cara once again.

“Shh.” Leaning back so that Noa’s frame rested on her legs, the older woman gently held a hand against the girl’s head, directing it on her shoulder. “It’s fine. Rest now.” Words spoken with calm and firmness, giving the girl strength and the comprehension that everything was as it was supposed to be.

And it was all that a drained Noa could do. While the girl fell asleep nestled in the arms of the woman she cared most about in the world, Cara kept watch over her. Her limbs like a protective cage that held nothing in but kept the whole world safely outside, Cara herself a silent, unconquerable guardian in the middle of the quiet, rain–filled forest.

She was warm inside. No water, storm or ice would be able to to rip that away today.

We are our home now, my little fox. I think I can accept that.

Part 14

“How do you feel?” Cara asked after Noa woke up in the camp for the second time. She had carried the kid back, build a fire and placed her on the dry bedroll. She had wanted to go out into the woods and find the damn bastard that had thrown the dagger, but instead she stayed rooted next to Noa’s sleeping frame. This is the end of our merchant days. There is no way I’m ever going to set foot in one of those insane villages again, not with one of those idiots on the loose and telling everyone that we’re alive.

“I’m all right,” the girl said with a raspy voice, pushing herself up to sit cross–legged. Hearing the rough sound, Cara stepped close and squatted down next to her companion, tilting the tumbler’s head up with a knuckle under her chin. There was a thin, white scar starting from above her breastbone and up the left side of her neck, similar to the one that remained after Cara’s neck had been sliced open.

The Mord’Sith scowled, her jaw clenching. “Looks like your vocal cords haven’t fully healed.”

Seeing that the remaining scar was upsetting her teacher, Noa stretched a smile across her lips. “That’s okay. Maybe I’ll sound more intimidating that way. Husky and dangerous.”

Cara couldn’t help but half–grin, raising her hand to tussle a protesting Noa’s hair. “You couldn’t be intimidating even if you tried.”

Noa shifted her eyes to the side. “Yeah,” she admitted, “probably not.” Cara decided not to try and wonder at the strange way she said those words.

Shaking her head, Cara stood back up to get the rest of the meat. We had enough trouble today. “Let’s eat, I’m hungry after all this tussle.”

They ate in silence and quickly fell back into their usual routine. Noa didn’t question when Cara changed their route away from the next village and instead set them headed back towards the Dead Wall. They took up their training and the older woman finally steered Noa’s fighting habit from being focused on defense and evasion towards actually attacking her opponents back instead of just passively waiting till they dropped dead from exhaustion. With the girl’s speed and lack of strength she had to hit specific areas on the human body instead of wasting her energy on randomly punching at whatever she could reach.

A few days later, with the evening sky enclosing them in a cape of quiet darkness, Cara restrung her bow, when all of a sudden the blonde girl animatedly jumped in between her and the fire. The Mord’Sith raised an unimpressed brow at the agitated stance.

“Here, listen to this!” Noa stood with her legs apart, crouching lower and raising her arms and hands in an imitation of a wild cat’s claws. A serious scowl set on her features, she bared her fangs and growled deeply.

Cara couldn’t help but burst out laughing. While the change in her trainee’s voice allowed her to actually make it an inhuman noise, instead of sounding like a proud, dangerous predator the effect was more like that of a tiny lion pub grumbling at his elders. Maybe in a few years she would be able to make it actually sound threatening, right now it only served to amused the older woman to no end.

“I’ll… take it that didn’t quite work as planned.” Noa mumbled, blushing up to her ears, then ducked her head and swiftly turned back around to where she had come from. While her pride was scratched, the girl wasn’t really hurt by Cara laughing at her, as she saw her self–proclaimed mother smile far too seldom.

After almost losing Noa, Cara couldn’t be quite described as fussy, but she spend more time than before watching over her protégée’s progress, refusing to let anything alike happen again. She finally had to admit that she had grown quite close to the girl, for when Noa cautiously started to try and call the older woman ‘Mom’ more often Cara neither flinched nor snapped at her for doing so. Soon the Mord’Sith’s true name didn’t find its way past the kid’s lips again. The Mord’Sith felt herself be filled with quiet awe and wonder every time she was called that way, the feeling following after it tender and pleasant and unknown.

I wouldn’t have ever thought that I’d become a surrogate mother, Cara mused with a shake of her head when they moved across a meadow and Noa’s raspy and delighted “Mom! Mom! A badger family!” attracted her attention. Quickly keeping the girl from rushing over to the wild animals in her typical brash demeanor, before a pair of angry badger parents could get the idea to defend their little ones against an over–enthusiastic human, they marched on towards the mountains in their typical quiet atmosphere.

I’ve never felt so at ease before.

It was five months later, at the beginning of her fourth winter in Darza, when Cara’s world came crashing down around her once again.

Noa had gone hunting, now fully capable of doing it herself with the help of Cara’s Agiel, after the older woman had returned from an ice–cold bath in the mountain lake. They had reached the Dead Wall many weeks ago, giving back the metal wares to the miners and exchanging the excess horses for everything else they needed. With Jasson knowing them quite well after all these years, they started to hunt quarry for the town and gave him the shot animals in return for smaller, needed items, thus making sure that the two long–term travelers had something to do. Cara steadfast refused Jasson’s pleading to come up and rent a place in town, as she was still scared of someone finding out again about what Noa had to keep a secret.

Her hair brushed dry, thanks to Noa taking her duty very serious of keeping the wheat colored strands from being tangled, the Mord’Sith chopped wood and stoked the fire until the heat forced her to lay down the thick furs she wore to keep away the cold. Close before noon, she felt the hairs raise on her neck, dreading what was going to come soon. Jasson had warned her, telling them that a handful of Apothics had been spotted along the Dead Wall the past few days. That didn’t make the coming Dry Storm that crashed around her abruptly like always any easier to endure.

Gritting her teeth and waiting out the overflow of magical energy that forced itself into her body if she didn’t watch out, Cara sat close to the fire and applauded herself for having been so predictive to create a big fire. It spared her the pain of wandering around to throw more wood onto it to keep her from freezing her limbs off. But the strain of keeping the magic out kept her warm anyway.

Thankfully it was a short Storm, dusk settling around her when the colored dust cleared out of the air and she could finally loosen her muscles. This is something I’m never going to get fully used to… well, maybe in another thirty years or so. Goosebumps covered her skin at the thought of growing this old. Maybe she would try and find her end in a battle against the lightless creatures once she felt she was getting weak with age. But dying frail and wrinkly, bound to a bed for weeks on end with other people taking care of her most intimate performances because she was too weak? That was simply unacceptable.

Roused out of her musings by a sound in the distance, Cara guardedly shifted towards it. Leaving her furs behind to not be hindered by them, she drew her Agiel. This wasn’t Noa, the girl was as silent as a flying owl when creeping through the underbrush and slipping from tree to tree… and she had gone into a different direction anyway. The steps were too heavy, too slow. Lowering her eyes at the treeline, she pushed her hair back over her shoulder and gripped her weapon until the leather of her gloves protested with a creak.

If this is another villager bent on revenge, I’m going to start breaking people again.

But it was no mere villager. It was one of the biggest shocks of her life.

“Thank the Creator… Cara!”

Her heart nearly stopped.

The Mord’Sith watched the apparition dressed in bright white and with long flowing hair burst out of the forest and come to rest a few feet in front of her, delicate hands flying to her mouth to hold in the tears. Feeling as if someone had dragged the ground away from under her feet, Cara watched her focus shift dangerously for a small second as if faint. Was it a dream? Had she fallen asleep during the Dry Storm and was seeing strange things again like Dahlia in Mord’Sith leathers or herself in a pink dress bound to a tree?

Is she real? This can’t be true.

“Kahlan?” she managed to say. “Is that really you?” Was it a cruel trick created by the magic of Darza?

Now Kahlan was smiling, bright and wonderful and so much more solid than any memory she could ever conjure up when it was the deepest night, and the Mother Confessor stepped closer. Guilt mingled with her happiness when she talked again. “I am so, so sorry, Cara, we searched for you almost two months and it took another two to find a way to get us both back… we did everything we could.”

The sound of her heart hammering in her chest threatened to drown out every other sound around her. Her thoughts were running a marathon in her mind, knocking over anything stable that she could grasp. Where is Noa? She needs to come here. “Four months?” Cara asked almost numbly. She couldn’t look at Kahlan anymore, turning away to gather her bearings.

What were they thinking? Finding a way to Darza and believing that everything would be sunshine and rainbows? For years Cara had believed that the Midlanders had left her behind, uncaring of her fate and now she found out that they had been searching all along, doing everything they could? She couldn’t deal with it right now. She didn’t know what to think, what to feel, what to expect.

Cara could hear how the other woman gasped when seeing her back. Yes, I’ve changed. How will you deal with that?

“Kahlan,” she started, trying to keep calm and not scream the words at the clueless Confessor, “I’ve been here in this crazy land since four blasted years.”

How in the Creator’s name are you going to deal with that?

* * * * *

Four years.

Kahlan felt faint. Years. This Cara, her Cara, had been forced to spend four years away from home. Why had Zedd’s spell failed? How in the world would they ever be able to make it up to the proud Mord’Sith? Placing a hand flat against her stomach, the Mother Confessor tried not to keel over from the unbelievable news. “Four…oh spirits…Cara, I’m so…so sorry.”

But the Mord’Sith was turned away from her, Kahlan could barely see the rapid movement of her eyes and deducted that even though her face was stoic, Cara had her own array of emotions to deal with in this moment. Carefully she put down her satchel. When stepping closer to lay a comforting hand on Cara’s shoulder, to touch her again after all this time and make herself believe that the blonde woman was truly real and not a figment of her love–starved imagination, the Mord’Sith quickly snapped her head up and moved away from her raised hand with an incredulous look.

Hurt exploded in the brunette’s insides. There was nothing worse than seeing the woman you love step away from you as if you were a stranger intending to bring them pain. A sword impaling her chest wouldn’t be a more cruel fate than this one. “Cara–…”

“No, don’t come close to me. I don’t need this right now.” Cara shook her head, the shorter strands in the front encasing her features just like when Kahlan had seen her last, another painful reminder of a past lost.

Intending to not let the perturbed woman get away from her again now that she had found her, Kahlan stayed persistent, steadily coming closer. Mord’Sith are afraid of nothing. Why then are you so scared of me? “Cara, please. As your friend I just want to understand that this is real. Please, don’t run away from me!” she pleaded desperately.

“I’m not running,” Cara snarled and yet she inched backwards. But Kahlan’s hurt, warm, familiar gaze, those blue pools of compassion, captured her and the Mother Confessor came even closer in their rash dance.

“Cara,” Kahlan whispered softly, the name like a sweet candy on her tongue. She was just a foot away from the trembling woman, gently holding out her arm again to let her fingers confirm that this was indeed the Mord’Sith she had missed so dearly.

“Don’t touch me!” the blonde snapped in another last, futile attempt to keep the Confessor from reaching her and breaking apart her walls and still the fight that kept her emotions from bursting out of her soul.

Seeing that Cara had stilled, body rigid with apprehension, Kahlan finally closed the distance with one last step. Her fingertips barely a hair’s breadth away from the skin of Cara’s golden cheek, she imagined that she could already feel the warmth seeping into her hand. The green, wide eyes shimmered with golden flecks in the dancing flames and Kahlan felt like her world had righted itself again when gazing deeply into them. This was where she was supposed to be, right here, near her beloved. Just one touch and everything would be all ri–…

Before skin could meet skin, Kahlan felt something heavy slam against her side. Caught by surprise, the Mother Confessor met the ground hard with her whole length while whatever had catapulted itself at her hit a fist against her throat. The brunette coughed, trying to hold off a furry of blows that slammed down upon her within the fragment of a second, making it impossible to reach one of her daggers.

“Leave her alone!” the attacker snarled, Kahlan unable to decipher any image of her opponent while being busy with fending off the hits. Whoever it was, the person was damned fast and Kahlan was unable to counterattack with her back on the earth and incapable of moving to any side. Growing angry at the interruption of her meeting with Cara, the fury in her veins caused her to dart her right hand forward, accepting at least a dozen painful jabs in return, until she could feel a thin but strong throat beneath her fingers.

Gripping tightly, she barred her teeth at the raving attacker and released the hold on her magic. That is what you get for messing with Cara and me, you fool! Her eyes turned darker than the night, the Confessor power crackling in the air around her and shooting up her arm with vigor. There was a surprised gasp and a loud “No!” and then, just the fragment of a second before the magic could stream out of her palm, whoever had been in her hold was ripped away.

The magic howled and raged, its tendrils clawing uselessly at the empty air before she could force the churning turrent back behind its mental walls. Gasping at the exertion and confused as to what had happened, Kahlan struggled upwards, holding herself up on her elbows.

The picture that presented itself to her was a surprise.

Cara had one arm slung protectively around a flabbergasted young girl’s stomach, the other free hand twisted in the fabric and fur of the top with which she had dragged the young one back. Kahlan’s attacker, the child, was watching the brunette with wide and two different colored eyes, wild, honey toned hair framing her face. Kahlan was at first shocked at the uncanny resemblance between the two, which she then was able to put down to the similar coloring older and younger blonde sported.

But what got to her most was the almost furious look Cara pierced her with, as if Kahlan had come close to breaking something very precious to the Mord’Sith.

“Kahlan, are you out of your mind?!”

Now it dawned on her that she had almost confessed a young girl. Kahlan felt shame well up in her and she grimaced at her stupid impulse. Then she blinked.

“Wait…you know her?!” The girl and Kahlan quickly locked eyes again after having uttered the very same phrase, gazing warily at each other.

Cara simply sighed.

“No one attacks anyone, is that clear? Now… Kahlan, this is my… trainee. I guess she tried to protect me. And Noa, however that may have sounded, this is my…friend, Kahlan Amnell.” Cara raised both her eyebrows at the girl and received a sheepish look in return.

“Uhm…oops?” An unspoken conversation went on between the two blondes and then Noa scrambled to her feet with a small “Sorry” directed at Kahlan before speeding off towards the fireplace.

Wearily standing up and holding out a hand for the Confessor, the brunette clasped it with a content smile. It wasn’t actually how she imagined it to be, but feeling Cara’s warm and strong grip between her fingers assured her that this wasn’t a dream. This was reality. But after standing she winced at the throbbing in her neck and temple… the girl really knew what spots to hit.

“I’m sorry… it was stupid of me to react like that.”

“I take it you came here to lead me back to my duty.”

Not liking the stoic wording of Cara’s sentence, Kahlan tried to smile kindly at her. “I… we missed you. We want to have you back because you are our friend, not because of your bond to the Lord Rahl.” Seeing Cara glance to the side, she couldn’t curb her curiosity any longer. “Noa… who is she?”

“She’s an orphan from a town in the south. The people believe her to be evil because of her bi–colored eyes, so I took her in as my… servant.” There was that strange look on Cara’s features again.

Kahlan furrowed her eyebrows. She hadn’t expected people to live her and much less to have Cara take care of a child. It pleased her to see that the smaller woman had changed for good, but at the same time there was now a deep chasm between them that made Kahlan feel as if she was miles away from the blonde, even while standing right next to her.

“I guess there is a lot to talk about, huh?” she tried to say with a touch of humor. At Cara’s simple nod, Kahlan’s shoulders sagged. And back to step one again. “Do you think Noa wants to come home with us?”

“I know that she will come with us,” Cara corrected, then turned and walked to the fire. “Bring your belongings, we’ll eat first.”

Seeing the woman she had missed so much walk away from her again, Kahlan accepted her fate and went to get her satchel. Once she is home, it will get better. All we need is time.

And Cara had called her a friend. That was good, wasn’t it?

* * * * *

She was here. Real. No ghost, no delusion. So many different thoughts wrapped themselves into each other in her head until all of it was a pile of feelings, memories and impressions that had no beginning or end, let alone an order.

Kahlan. Kahlan.

Why she? Why not the Seeker? He was the kind of person that would not let his beloved go into a dangerous world alone, if at all.

She could not take her eyes of the white–clad woman. Her heart twisted in… longing? Confusion? It was hard to say, everything was in chaos.

“So she is from your… our world?” Noa whispered under her breath.

Cara blinked and looked back up from where she was watching between the trunks of the wood how Kahlan sat forlornly in front of the fire, gently prodding the embers with a long stick. Crossing her arms, she gazed back at the kid. “Yes, and she wants to bring us back home. Into a world where no one is going to hate you for your eyes.”

Smiling slightly, Noa shifted her stance. “Sounds like a dream come true. But speaking of eyes… did they just turn black when I attacked her? What did she try to do?”

Feeling odd trepidation at telling the girl about the Confessors of the Midlands right now, she shook her head. “You will see once we are there. It’s complicated. First we need to talk to Kahlan and see what we have to do to get back.”

“Is she one of the group you told me about? The three you met that were the reason you landed here?” Noa knew next to nothing about the world Cara came from and only fragments about the Midlanders she had traveled with. Most of her knowledge consisted of the Mord’Sith and parts of D’Hara, but she had been so curious about how her surrogate mother had landed in Darza, that Cara had told her at least the series of events that had set her path toward meeting Richard and Kahlan that fateful day. Leaving out the journey to find the Stone of Tears, she had simply explained that ‘the damn wizard’ had opened an unstable portal, thus hurling her through the Magical Planes, as Zedd had called them, and throwing her out on the hill near Srath.

Nodding at the girl and then grabbing the young deer that Noa had dragged back here before assuming the older blonde was getting attacked, she hefted it over her shoulder and turned to go back. A short exclamation stopped her.

“Mom–…”

“Call me Cara when we have company,” she quickly interrupted, not having to turn around to see the hurt look on Noa’s face. It seemed as if she was stepping on people’s toes whatever she did today, but having to explain to Kahlan why the kid called her her mother was nothing she looked forward to. “Is there something else?”

“No, I… just… here, your Agiel.”

Accepting it back with a smile that cheered the girl up somewhat, they both walked back into camp.

Dinner was a quiet affair. While Cara and Noa were used to the silence, Kahlan send uncomfortable looks between her food and the others. When it was close to becoming unbearable for the Mother Confessor, Cara set her empty bowl aside and propped her elbows on her knees while interlacing her gloved fingers. The posture did funny things to Kahlan’s already unstable libido and she distracted herself by watching with surprise as Noa took a third helping.

“So, what do we have to do to get back?” Cara started, tilting her head slightly. Kahlan marveled silently at the long golden strands that fell over the Mord’Sith’s shoulders. If Cara had not been the humanoid image of a large, dangerous jungle cat before then she definitely was now.

Ripped out of her inappropriate musings by Cara’s impatient foot–taping, Kahlan dragged her bag close and rummaged until she found the little sack with the precious stone inside. Opening the string and letting the gem drop onto her palm with care, she showed them the beautiful item that glimmered in the fire light like crystallized blood. Noa let out an impressed “Ooooh” around the food in her mouth.

“Zedd spelled the stone so that I can activate it to bring us back home. All we need is a Field of Eruption. That’s the only place where we can absorb the magic mantle that covers Dazrodha…”

“Wait, stop,” Cara interrupted, waving her hands about. “What’s a Field of Eruption? And where the heck is Dazrodha?”

“We are in Dazrodha. Better yet, we’re sitting on it,” Kahlan explained patiently.

“Bu’ hif if D’thra.”

Kahlan squinted at Noa. “Please what?”

Swallowing, the girl licked her lips free of stew. “I said, this is Dazra.”

“It’s the wizards that carried out the research that called it Dazrodha. Maybe the people that live here changed the name to suit them… who knows.” Dazrodha. D’Hara. It made sense to combine those two to Dazra. Shaking her head, Kahlan went on. “Concerning the Fields… it’s a place that contains a high concentration of magic, we should be able to feel it even from afar.”

Cara pursed her lips, gazing at the fire. “Then I guess I know where we’re headed.”

The news caused Kahlan to smile brightly. “You do? That is wonderful! At least we don’t have to spend needless time searching for it.” Wrapping the ruby safely back up, Kahlan felt her spirits lifting. We’re back home soon. “Where do we have to go?”

Cara pointed a finger upwards, her face expressionless.

“What? What do you mean up there? Wh–…” Kahlan’s lips formed a round O when understanding presented itself. “Oh. The mountains.”

“We have to climb up the Dead Wall?” Apprehension found its way to Noa’s features when she remembered the last time Cara had been up there.

“There is a plateau up in the mountain ridge, the locals call it Cradle of Death. The place is practically bursting with untamed magic energy, so it should be the Field of Eruption we need,” Cara explained to Kahlan, ignoring Noa’s fear and her own uneasiness of thinking back to the Apothics. She hoped they would be gone by the time they made their way up there, as they we’re only active around the Dry Storms.

“When can we leave?”

“Tomorrow. There is something akin to a path we can use near the lake. It only takes two days to get up there, maybe one and a half if we’re fast.”

“But what about the horses?” Noa interjected with worry.

Kahlan was able to be privy to a look on Cara’s face that she had not seen before. The two blondes gazed at each other, Noa pleadingly and Cara with pragmatism, but then the older one’s eyes seemed to soften in a way that had Kahlan’s heart pounding and twisting in yearning for the Mord’Sith. Was that affection she saw Cara emit? Fondness? It was so alien and yet so beautiful on her, like a fragile, dainty flower in the midst of a blood soaked, long abandoned battleground. She had to bore her fingers into the trunk she was sitting on, lest she would run over and hug the red–clad woman until all she could feel and breath and think was Cara.

“We’ll have enough time to pass by the miner’s town and leave the two with Jasson. But afterward we have to hurry before the snow sets in. Once that happens, there is no way we’ll reach the Cradle alive.”

Happy with that answer, Noa stood up with a smile and collected all the items they had used during their meal to wash them in the stream that came from the lake of the mountain spring. Watching the thin girl bounce away into the darkness, Kahlan couldn’t help but shake her head amused.

“She seems like a nice girl.”

“She is,” Cara grumbled under her breath and started to take out the bedrolls.

“How did you two met?” Kahlan asked cautiously, hoping to get a tale out of the reticent Mord’Sith. It worked better than she had hoped, Cara telling her in few, but pointed sentences how she had found Noa lying in the clearing. The Mother Confessor felt sadness envelop her heart at the story, wondering how human beings could be so cruel to a little, innocent child. When Cara was finished, Noa came back out of the woods, causing both older woman to wince at the drastically wrong notes she was whistling all the way.

When it was time to turn in, Kahlan realized with growing embarrassment that she had nothing to sleep on.

“Noa, give her your mat.”

The girl spluttered. “B–but… I don’t wanna sleep on the ground!”

A pointed look from Cara had her silent, although pouting. Padding over to the Mother Confessor and pressing the bedroll into her hand with a glare, she sat down cross–legged next to the fire and folded her arms. Cara rolled her eyes and laid down on her own bedroll in a theatrical movement. “Get over her, silly. We’ll share.”

Kahlan actually felt a stab of jealousy at the gleeful way in which Noa jumped up and curled herself on the spot Cara had left free like a content kitten. Four months ago I would have been sleeping next to her. On my own bedroll, but next to her anyway. Oh, what would she give to share a bedroll with the grumpy blonde… but offering Noa her bedroll back might have been a little too obvious.

Swallowing the bitter pill on her tongue with unease, she went to sleep right next to the fire. If she couldn’t have Cara’s warmth, she could at least imagine it in her dreams.

Part 15

“So…this is the miner’s town? It looks…”

“Backward? Rural? Dull? You name it and it’ll fit.” Cara arched her head back, checking the bandage around Noa’s head once again. “You’ll stay here while Kahlan and I go and get Jasson.”

Leaving the horses with the girl, Cara marched towards the house of Jasson’s family, the Mother Confessor’s dress earning them fascinated looks from all sides. Cara payed them no heed and soon they were standing before the the stable, Jasson and Cara heading inside to bind the trusty mounts to a sturdy beam.

“Man, Cujo is a magnificent horse. You know what? I’ll make him my new riding mount, so that he doesn’t have to carry the goods.”

“He won’t disappoint you,” the red–clad woman replied and pulled the knot taught. Then she patted the golden steed on the flank, admitting to herself that she was going to miss the fine animal.

“So… you’re going away? Wouldn’t it be better to go by horse?”

“Where we’re going, the horses can’t follow.”

Jasson sighed good–naturedly at this typical vague statement. While he had grown out of his youthful infatuation with the Mord’Sith and was going to marry soon, he still valued Cara and Noa as good friends. The thought of never seeing them again was a sad one.

Cara walked close by him, but then stopped when they were shoulder to shoulder, the blonde looking outside, Jasson watching the horses. He waited patiently, as it seemed that there was something the woman had to get out.

“Jasson… you’re a good man,” she finally started to say, carefully choosing her words. “Don’t lose that.”

While it sounded more like a military order than a compliment, the brown–haired man couldn’t help but smile anyway. “Thanks. I’ll try.”

“Listen… this magic hate that you people have… it has to stop. It’s foolish superstition.”

“But…”

“No but. Where I come from, the bad signs are normal people. They maybe uncommon and some struggle with their disabilities every day, but they aren’t cursed or vile… they’re human. Imagine your own child would be born with two different colored eyes… what would you do?”

She could see him swallow out of the corner of her vision, a torn and sorrow–filled look on his face.

“Noa… is a bad sign, isn’t she?”

Cara lowered her eyes. “Did you realize that now?”

“No, I… I suspected it… I just… she’s just a kid,” he ended lamely, spreading his hands to the side.

“Then keep that in mind the next time a ‘bad sign’ is born.” Striding out of the stable, she paused when Jasson called her back. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him standing there with both hands in his pockets and a friendly smile on his face.

“Cara… you’re a good woman, too. Send Noa inside so she can say goodbye to the horses. Don’t worry, I’ll watch out for her.”

Nodding curtly at him and swallowing down the strange, comfortable feeling that his words had created, she quickly stepped into the morning sunlight in search for the others.

Her two companions were waiting next to the stable doors, Kahlan watching the merry work of the town’s people with a soft smile, while Noa rummaged around in the saddle bags they would leave here. Cara pointed a thumb over her shoulder when she reached them.

“Noa, get inside and do whatever you have to. We’ll go in a few moments.”

“They have never seen a white dress as mine, haven’t they?” Kahlan wondered out loud when she saw woman and men constantly turn around to catch a glimpse at the Confessor.

Crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, Cara looked the brunette up and down. “A pure white dress of this quality? You won’t even find the filament it’s made of anywhere in Darza, let alone the skill to weave it. Why did you decide to wear it anyway? I doubt you’re going to have it easy when we’re going to start climbing.”

“As the dress is a symbol of my status,” Kahlan patiently explained, “I will wear it when traveling other lands. And I am perfectly capable of climbing in it, my dear Cara,” she finished with an amused smile.

“That dress,” Noa ground out matter–of–factly around a mouthful of cheese while pointing, “is totally impractical.” Then she turned to say good–bye to Jasson and the mounts.

The Mother Confessor blinked at the retreating back. “Dear spirits, is she always eating?! Where does she put it?”

“And you thought the wizard was bad when it comes to food.”

Kahlan watched Cara sweep her eyes along the street, astonished at the change in the stoic Mord’Sith. While the blonde was a lot more reserved and short–clipped than before what had been four months for the Confessor and years for the two companions, there was an intriguing ease, almost a settled calm around the woman now that had Kahlan amazed and in awe.

The years appeared to have changed Cara, she was still the same guarded warrior as when Kahlan had met her first, but now the mental rock that the Mord’Sith portrayed whenever she was awake did no longer stem against the feelings she wasn’t supposed to feel, but from them. Cara had accepted something very vital in those years and Kahlan would give anything to have been a part of the learning process.

Distracted by the absent smile the Mother Confessor wore while watching her, Cara lowered her eyes. “What?”

“I’m just so glad I found you,” Kahlan couldn’t help but admit, smiling even more at the way the Mord’Sith quickly flicked her gaze down towards the ground and then back on the street, the clenched jaw and cheeks that were dusted with a soft pink a picture the Confessor would keep close in her heart. Some things never change.

* * * * *

Cara waited. This was the third boulder they couldn’t walk around. Noa, with her light, agile frame, found their climbing the easiest, simply scurrying up the walls as if she was running across a flat plane. Cara was right behind, pulling herself up with strength and endurance born from a self–willed mind , twisting her body around skillfully to find the right nooks and crevices with a tactical eye. Last was the Confessor, who kept up with them without problem when it came to stamina, but…

Three, two, one…

“All right, I give in. You’re right, I should have worn the travel dress, this is the fifth time I stepped on my hem…” At the end of her nerves, she ripped the cloth from right under her foot in frustration. “Spirits, not even the climb up the wall in the valley with those strange First Generation people was this frustrating,” the Mother Confessor grumbled when she managed to plop down next to the two blondes that were waiting patiently on the top of the boulder.

“You came a lot further than I imagined,” Cara jabbed with a grin at the brunette’s distress. But then she pointed towards a ridge Kahlan estimated to be two or three hours away. “Beyond that is the Cradle. I’m sure you’ll manage until there.”

Kahlan groaned when she viewed the rocky slope that awaited them. Thankfully the Mother Confessor dress was spelled against filth and minor tears in the cloth, so there was no need to worry about damaging it, but it didn’t change the fact that it would be a pain to stumble up there with her long sleeves and skirt. Adding to that was the problem of the shifting weather, a thin, slippery layer of fresh snow causing them to almost lose their footing a few times. Sighing, she took Cara’s offer and let herself be pulled up by the gloved hand.

It was horribly cold up here and all three had trouble sucking enough air into their lungs to keep from outright panting. The climb that followed was as annoying as they had expected it to be, but soon they could feel a dry humming resonate in their bones as the group stood before the edge looming over their heads. Cara stopped them before one could climb the last few feet.

“Kahlan. Are you armed?”

The Confessor nodded with furrowed eyebrows. “Yes. Why?”

“Just in case. The Apothics are active before every Dry Storm, but the last one raged across the land shortly before you found us.”

“Apothics?”

“Strange, light–absorbing humanoids that learn incredible fast for each of them that you erase from existence. If anything happens Noa and I will keep them off while you open the portal. We should be able to keep them busy until they start becoming a threat.”

Feeling the magic scratch at her skin from the outside was strange, the power Kahlan kept locked away in her soul vibrating in harmony with the dissonance she detected in the one native to Darza. And Cara had told them it would only get worse. It was like walking and moving around with the not–quite hunch of getting an upset stomach, just spread in your whole body.

The Mother Confessor threw a skeptic glance at the other, smaller blonde her life might depend on. Seeing the kid keep up with them after nearly two days of climbing was impressive, but holding back a whole group of enemies? The better question was, could Kahlan concentrate on the spelled ruby and let a kid do a grown–up’s job while still keeping a clear conscience?

Catching Kahlan’s contemplative look, Cara stepped forward, catching the Confessor’s eye. “It’s okay. Trust me, she’s tougher than she looks… I trained her myself, I know what she’s capable of.”

Noa merely huffed and placed her interlaced hands at the back of her head as if trying to say “I’m not that fragile–looking.”

“Good…you know I trust you.” Kahlan reciprocated Cara’s gaze and was content when the Mord’Sith didn’t shy away from the truth in her eyes. Then she turned to Noa. “Both of you.”

The girl smiled, conveying her thanks through the happy twinkle that gleamed in her curious eyes.

With their minds set, they climbed over the last edge together, the vast empty plateau stretching itself out before them in solemn emptiness.

Kahlan was just as shocked as Cara had been back then after stepping on the sandy ground for the first time. Even Noa winced at the high concentration that assaulted her nerves, when normally even the strongest Dry Storm left her cold.

“So this is the Cradle of Death? I expected something more…impressive.” Though the brunette had to admit that the energy in the air and the round walls encasing the golden sand void of any life were a tad disturbing.

“You better hope we don’t find out why it’s called that way… let’s hurry, the sooner we’re back in the Midlands, the better.” Cara, who forced the magic out of her body with practiced ease, rushed over to the center where the concentration seemed to be the strongest. The others followed her, Kahlan already holding the little bag in her hand when stopping next to the red–clad woman.

“And now?” Cara asked with a bored face. “Are you going to hold up the pretty stone, wave it around and, surprise, there’s a portal?”

“Zedd may have instructed me, but even I don’t know what happens once I activate the spell. He just said it needs some time to fully form.” Cradling the ruby between her cold fingers, Kahlan held it up, concentrating on the sparkling, reflective depths in the dark red. When suddenly a black spot appeared in the reflection, Kahlan blinked and held the stone closer.

It didn’t come from the depth of the ruby. But what then? She looked up… and frowned.

“I…guess that would be an Apothic?” Kahlan said in a way that spoke volumes about the hope that Cara would correct her. Unfortunately, the Mord’Sith had an equally dark look on her features, watching the lightless creature standing unmoving a few feet away parallel to them with a sneer. Just as always, the Aphotic had appeared out of nowhere when no one was looking.

“Yes. Go on, concentrate back on your magic thing, we can handle one easily,” she replied while automatically reaching for her Agiels.

“Uhm, hey… I hate to do so, but… I think I need to correct that number.”

Shifting around at the worried tone in Noa’s voice they felt their blood turn to ice at the sight.

Standing in a messy, silent half–circle around the three were more Apothics. Actually, it was a whole army of lightless bodies, lingering and watching them without eyes, crowding them even while standing far away sans movement, sound, expression.

Dread flooded their veins, every twitch they made seemed like a ear–blasting echo in the total absence of noise, every swallow or breath a thunder. Cara placed a careful hand on Kahlan’s shoulder, urging the Confessor behind her. “Kahlan… whatever you need to do…do it quick.”

And then all hell broke loose.

The mass of dark figures surged forward in a noiseless wave, trampling over the sand without leaving imprints in the grainy soil. Cara and Noa jumped into action the second the enemies reached them, hacking and hitting at every creature that came too near or dared to make a swipe at their flesh, drawing a safe circle around the desperate Mother Confessor with their actions.

The Mord’Sith refrained from killing any Apothic, even if she had a convenient moment to do so. Throwing a look over her shoulder she saw that Noa was holding her own against the towering frames, her speed even unmatched by the one the lightless creatures possessed, leaving her to twist and tumble between their appendages and attacking those that tried to break through towards Kahlan. While the girl was even less equipped to seriously hurt any of them, keeping the enemy busy and distracted was her forte.

Placing her foot against a black torso, Cara kicked her opponent back into the budging masses and flicked a lock of hair out of her vision. “Kahlan, hurry up! They’re dumb again, but not exactly waddling babies.”

The ruby in Kahlan’s hand was starting to glow the more she concentrated. Other than the white light that had flashed up when the stone imprinted on her, this one was a thick, wine red that seemed to drench her whole hand in fresh blood. The spell was activated and starting to suck off the untamed, chaotic magic that polluted the air around them, a swirling vortex of animated air and dust arising atop the plateau.

“Soon,” she shouted against the growing rumble the constant absorption created, the ground beneath their feet shaking at the sudden lack of energy.

Cara whirled around just in time to see the shocking effect the activated spell had on the black figures. It was as if they started howling into the sky the very same second, twisting and hunching their bodies down and then raising themselves towards the heaven. It was a deeply disturbing spectacle, the kind you found in nightmares and feverish dreams. Within moments, big, pulsating red eyes formed in the dark substance of their heads, without pupils or any form of order how they naturally had to appear. Some had two eyes, others a dozen, and all were trained with unmistakable blood lust on the three humans in their midst.

A scream caused Cara to snap her head to the side, watching as Noa scrambled out of harms way when a handful of Apothics all of a sudden savaged their own race, tearing apart the closest victim in their haste to erase them. The same happened in the whole mass of black bodies, all of it playing out in the bloodcurdling silence that was broken just by the roar of the magic spell.

“Kahlan?” Cara hollered, undecided if she should attack the crazed creatures or if they were safe for the moment.

“It’s opening!” A green maelstrom was appearing before the stone, turning bigger and more distinct the more the bright red jewel did its work, the Confessor still clutching the ruby with an urgency that whitened her knuckles.

It was this moment that made the Cradle of Death a living hell.

Cara was barely able to shout a warning when the cannibalistic Apothics jumped them without hesitation, their speed and strength increased tenfold and their fighting style that of seasoned veterans. With the spell going and active, Kahlan dropped the ruby and drew her daggers, partaking in the fight for their lives with cold determination.

If the Apothics had been men, it would have been a slaughter. This way it was a desperate race against time for survival, the portal still not fully formed even when the three females fought off their enemies back to back, their resistance waning with every blow they had to absorb. They lost the overview over the battle, the black figures with their wide, hellish eyes hungering for their life energy and more while nearly burying the humans beneath their superior numbers.

Blow after blow, hit after hit, they slashed, punched, ducked and blocked without end, without surrendering. The seconds stretched into eternity, their skin drenched with sweat and their breath white clouds of crystallized water. Was there no end to their fight?

“The portal,” Kahlan shouted with renewed hope, “it’s open! Run!”

Forcing their way towards the green, glowing circle with clenched teeth and bleeding bodies, the Apothic’s attack reached a new height of frenzy with their prey trying to flee. With Kahlan slashing mercilessly at the front and the two blondes fending off their opponents in the back, every inch they gained was a hard fought one. It was akin to oppose the ocean tide bare–handed in the middle of a century storm.

But then, finally, Cara felt warmth at her back, the familiar tingling of magic that was ordered and man–made. The difference between the energy in the Dry Storm and Zedd’s portal magic was as if trying to make a comparison between the hot desert and the deep sea, both being natural environments on a planet and yet so different for any living being that dared to cross them. Even the Mord’Sith couldn’t deny the relief flooding her whole body at the thought of safety just a step away.

“Cara, jump!” Kahlan already had half of her body in the green churning, offering her hand to her friend, both daggers cradled in the other. Cara grabbed it, her Agiel dangling down her wrist.

“I’m not leaving without Noa,” she shouted at the Confessor. But then she felt a human hand on her other wrist, the small fingers that she could discern even without having to turn around, the moving black masses and her whipping long hair making it impossible for her gaze to distinguish anything more than a blur of color.

“Go, I’m behind you!” Noa replied out of her area of vision and Cara relaxed.

They were going home. After four years she was going back to her friends, people that had not abandoned her as she had thought first, together with the child she had almost adopted as her own.

With black claws and hands swiping at her, tearing her skin and leathers, nothing could stop Cara from stepping forward and into the portal until no Apothic managed to touch her anymore.

Safe.

We’re going home.

And then, the hand grabbing her wrist vanished. Her heart bursting out of her chest couldn’t have been a more painful shock.

“No!” she started to scream while spinning around, the Mother Confessor’s hand in her tight grip keeping her from toppling over.

Cara could only watch with blurred eyes as the girl stood just out of reach of the portal, the at least dozen black appendages attached to her limbs making it unable for her to move an inch without the help of someone coming back out of the rapidly closing portal and slashing her free. But it was too late… even if Cara managed to squeeze herself through the tiny window left, she’d be stuck in the army of inhuman killers with no chance of survival.

Their eyes locked. Cara could see the overwhelming sadness and determination in the girl’s eyes, simultaneously a curse and a blessing that she was able to tell exactly what Noa was thinking, feeling… doing.

She lied to me… she grabbed my wrist to make me believe she was safely behind me. You damn fool, Noa.

And Cara remembered how years ago a small, dirty and bruised kid had bowed before her, worming its way into her life and heart by promising with every fiber of her being exactly one thing:

“I promise I won’t be a burden to you.”

And she fulfilled that promise. By paying with her life. By letting her bi–colored irises tell Cara to go home, be happy and live instead of sacrificing it for someone useless like her. This is where I belong, the sorrow–filled smile on her young face told, this is what I deserve.

The last image that would break Cara harder than any form of torture could was seeing Noa mouth the words Thank you, Mom with fresh blood running down her cheek before the portal to Dazra closed forever with a swirl of pale, green energy.

Stuck in between the planes with magic howling and flowing all around them, Cara hardly acknowledged the tormented scream that broke out of her, nor Kahlan’s warm, comforting arms slung around her shoulders and dragging her through the corridor of magic that formed around them and toward the other end of the portal.

Everything was numb and agony–filled, hot and cold, and the Mord’Sith trashed to get back to where she wanted to be.

“Cara, please stop,” Kahlan pleaded with her own voice choking on tears for the little life lost. “We need to get out of here! Zedd, maybe Zedd can help… oh Cara…”

“I can’t leave her there,” Cara sobbed while grim, stone–hard determination manifested in her at the same instant. “I’ll find her and bring her home!”

But that end of the portal was closed and wherever she looked, the magic swirls and streams stretched themselves on and on into every direction, creating a psychedelic landscape without ground, sky or focus points. Different sized portals were opening and closing everywhere at unsteady intervals, some as small as a hand, others stretching higher than a horse with rider.

“The chaos magic will kill us,” Kahlan warned again, pushing against the distressed, red–clad woman with all her might. If she couldn’t safe Noa, she could at least safe the woman she loved.

They stumbled maybe a foot or two, it was hard to tell in a world that offered no relation to distance or time. The tide of energy buckled up around them, forcing them to take a step to the side and away from the way to their home. Even with her mind clouded by despair and conflict, Cara understood that Zedd, the blasted wizard, was her only hope to reach Darza again, so she let herself be turned around and staggered forward.

“Watch out!” But Kahlan’s cry came too late.

Two strong, pulsating forces of magic crashed into both their frames and surged right through their flesh, meeting in the middle in a shower of multicolored sparks and swirls. It was like feeling glass shards embed themselves into their veins and escape out of the skin of their backs. The newly formed, colored tide curled on behind them, twisted to the right and vanished into another human sized portal, leaving them free to breath again.

With a deep, angry growl that had Kahlan shiver in trepidation at the low sound, Cara slung an arm around the Mother Confessor’s middle. This. ends. NOW. Pushing off her feet and against the howling air, she catapulted them forward to the end of the corridor.

The nearer they came, the more they could see a concentrating, chanting being stand behind the opening, both arms raised to keep the door to their home open long enough for Cara and Kahlan to slip through. Jumping with every last bit of power they had, they fell through the surface and onto the hard ground of Zedd’s room, the portal snapping shut behind them with a loud whoosh.

“Thank the Creator, you’re safe–…,” the wizard started to say, but Cara was up in a flash and clutched at the robe of his neck tightly enough that he swallowed the other words on his tongue. Her crazed, intense eyes, rimmed with wet lashes and red skin, caused him to nearly slink back in fear.

“Open it, quick! I need to get back!”

“What…”

“I said, OPEN IT!” she screamed, shaking him with unnecessary force.

He tried to pry her hands off, to no prevail. “Cara, I can’t! I used up all my energy to keep this one open!” With an enraged Mord’Sith close to acting out the murderous intent in her gaze, the wizard was starting to get scared for his life.

“Can you do a search spell? Like the one you did to find Cara?” Kahlan tried to intervene, gently placing her hands on the rigid woman’s shoulders. If the blonde refused to move, she knew that not even a raging bull would be able to flip her out of the way. Out of the corner of her vision she could see a confused Richard watching the whole play with a worried gaze, examining Cara and her long hair with disbelieve.

When Cara freed her fingers out of the cloth at Kahlan’s soothing touch, Zedd rubbed his neck with an unamused frown. “I think I will be able to do that, although my head will thank me later. Whom do you want me to find?”

“A young girl, Noa, ten or eleven years…”

“Twelve,” Cara interrupted in a quiet, defeated voice. Her face was empty apart from a painful trace of anguish. “She’s about twelve.”

Hasting over to his desk to fill some powder into a tiny stone bowl, he set it aflame with a snip of his fingers, ancient syllables slipping from his lips. He carried it over to the two women and placed his thumb against Cara’s forehead, using her as an anchor for his spell.

There was silence for a moment, the Mord’Sith feeling her heart pound with a last surge of hope.

But Zedd lowered his arm and shook his head with remorse. “There is nothing. She is not inside Dazrodha anymore… she left that world.”

Cara did not break down. She didn’t cry, she didn’t scream anymore, she didn’t tremble. All feeling left her when she touched her Agiel and let the pain mingle with the one in her soul, combining it to a cacophony of agony that buzzed in her ears and shut out everything but the here and now, straining her senses to the point of breaking.

“I would like a room,” she prompted, the lack of emotion in her voice colder than the highest glacier.

“I’ll…show you where you can sleep,” Kahlan offered, then turned and mouthed something to the wizard.

Before Cara could make another step or prepare herself to it, the sleeping spell hit her from behind and caused her to crumble into Kahlan’s arms while already drifting into a deep, dreamless slumber.

* * * * *

Consternation had their limbs frozen and their lips grasping for something to say, when Kahlan finished her explanation about what happened in the other world. Cara would be solid asleep for a full twelve hours, giving her unconsciousness time to sort out some of the events weighing her down.

Kahlan was dreadfully afraid that Noa’s death would push Cara back from all the progress she had made. The Mord’Sith had been so balanced in Darza, so calm and in tune with herself and most of her new–found emotions. What if she shunned them out now? Retreated back into her shell, creating a barrier against all that could bring her a pain worse than both her Agiels combined?

What if she was unable to survive that loss?

“Four years,” Richard mumbled, dragging her out of her bleak concerns. They were sitting in a common room, Zedd pacing and standing on the hard wood floor, the Seeker and Kahlan sitting on and at a table and its banks.

“Those Dry Storms, that you just told about, Kahlan, are the reason my spell missed its intended mark. The chaos magic interfered with my own. If I had known about this beforehand, I would’ve handled it differently…” Zedd shock his head, long–boned fingers rubbing the wrinkles on his forehead.

“It’s not your fault, Zedd,” Kahlan soothed his guilt with a tired voice, “you didn’t know. You couldn’t have known. What Noa did was a brave, unselfish thing, but that won’t bring her back to Cara.”

“Hard to believe that our grumpy ball of sunshine took care of a kid by herself,” Richard mused with a small, affectionate smile. “She’s come so far.”

“And we need to look out that she doesn’t take three steps back after making two forward. I fear this is going to damage her so bad…” Hiding her face behind her hands, Kahlan tried not to cry at the anguish of Cara’s scream she could still feel resonating in her ears. “If only you saw her in the Magical Planes…and I think I… I saw Noa…call her mother… oh Richard, it was so horrible!”

The Seeker felt his heart break at the sight of his love grieving so heavily for the Mord’Sith. He slipped down onto the bank next to her and gathered the woman into his arms, pressing her close. Warmed by his body, Kahlan could feel her strangled thoughts ease, if only a little.

“Maybe she’s angry enough at me for catching her unaware with that spell that it distracts her long enough from her sadness,” Zedd wondered with a grimace.

“I…uh, think you should keep away from her for the next few days, I heard her mutter… not–so–nice things about the last portal you created. The one that got her stuck in the first place.”

The wizard paled and nodded slowly, causing the Mother Confessor to smile a bit at his unease. Even with Cara being their friend there were still some lines you shouldn’t cross, magical incidents with her at the receiving end scoring quite high in that matter.

“Well, I appreciate the warning. If the two of you don’t mind, the information about Dazrodha are quite intriguing, but the portal exhausted me… I think I need to lay down for a while.” He angled a careful look at the Mother Confessor. “Will you be all right for the time being?”

She nodded her head, easing his concerns. “It’s not me you should be worried about, I’m fine. Go and sleep, I’ll take care of Cara.”

“You should lay down, too. The fight, the loss, the magical attack… I’m sure you’re just as exhausted.”

“Maybe later,” Kahlan answered elusively.

Although the wizard was skeptical, he accepted her answer for the time being. They were all riled up, worried, and arguing didn’t help anyone at this point. Squeezing their shoulders and giving them a tired smile, he left the room to find his own.

“He’s right you know… you’re wounds are dressed, but you look beat,” Richard noted, rubbing a callused hand up and down her spine.

“I’m just worried.”

“And that’s understandable…” he sighed, “look, you catch a nap in one of the rooms and I’ll wake you once I think that Cara might get up soon, okay?”

“You’d do that?”

He grinned at her warmly, brown eyes not fully hiding that the problems his friends and love had to endure didn’t pass him by without harm either. He really wanted to help. “Out of us four I’m the most rested one. So go, I’ll watch out.”

Feeling her body sag with exhaustion at this offer, she leaned forward and hugged him, thankful for his help. “I just… I’ll have to look how she’s doing one last time before I go,” she quickly said, trying to keep the need in her voice to be close to Cara at a minimum, lest Richard might catch on.

Kahlan was back on her feet in an instant, rushing over to the door that stood between her and the sleeping Mord’Sith. Sending one last smile to the still seated Seeker, she slipped into the room, a weight lifting from her at the sight of the slumbering blonde and a different pain easing into the free space. After closing the door behind her, she was finally able to shed the mask she wore since hours after their return.

Oh, Cara…

They had placed the Mord’Sith on her back and cleaned her wounds without peeling away her scratched leathers. Kahlan knew that she would only be even more angry once she woke up without her usual battle attire, and really, none of the wounds were hard to reach with the red material laying on so skin–tight.

The Mother Confessor used this second to let her gaze linger at the beautiful face relaxed in magical sleep. Cara looked older, just barely, and it wouldn’t be as apparent if Kahlan had not mapped every contour of her features every time she had sat watch during their search for the Pillars of Creation and even before, trying to figure out the enigma that was Cara Mason. Her skin was darker, more bronze than golden after four years out under the sun.

She’s one of a kind. Ghosting her fingers against a tanned cheek, she was now able to do what she had longer for on Darza. The Mord’Sith was so unreachable again, four years lying between the Cara they had lost and the one Kahlan had returned with, the one that was unsure again of the friendship the Midlanders offered to her freely. Would she be able to accept it once anew?

Smoothing her thumb over a darker brow, Kahlan tried to not let the unanswered questions weigh her down. She needed to be strong now, for herself and for Cara. The blonde had to grieve and if there was one thing the Confessor was sure of even without being able to read a Sister of the Agiel, then it was that the sleeping woman would try to push away the pain the moment her eyes snapped open.

If only I could take this burden for you.

Feeling her heart bleed for the woman she loved, Kahlan took a careful seat on the mattress next to the frame hidden under the blanket. They had entered the Midlands around midnight and now the early morning light painted an intriguing play of shadows on the tanned face. Soon the tranquilized ease would be replaced with supressed tension.

I believe Noa wouldn’t have wanted you to suffer. She wanted you to be happy. I could see it in every movement she did under your orders, in every affectionate word you traded.

How foolish I was, how selfish to be envious of that closeness, she chastised herself, helpless to push away the guilt when remembering her petty jealousy of seeing Cara smile at a silly dance Noa did around the fire after they woke up the first morning. Now she would’ve given all she owned to have Cara see the kid next to her bed after her magical sleep ended.

But it was impossible. Noa was gone and so was Cara’s balanced center. Kahlan could only hope she found a way to settle the churning, scarring emotions that had the Mord’Sith in their grip even if she didn’t show it to the world around her.

Adding another guilty action to her burdened soul, Kahlan leaned down without being able to stop it and grazed the warm, golden skin of the sleeper’s temple and cheekbone with a tender press of her lips. Cara smelled like pines, untouched snow and smooth leather, with a hint of the healing salve they had applied to her bruises.

If only there was a salve she could apply directly to the broken soul lying beneath her. But all she could do was adding a kiss to the tussled, wheat–colored hair and a sweet murmur of promised help to her ear. Maybe it would reach something inside of Cara and ease the coming hurt she had to endure.

I’m always here for you, Kahlan thought with a last, love–filled look towards her, fighting the urge to just lie down next to her alluring frame without caring what Zedd or Richard might think. But the blonde woman needed her space like the air she was breathing and so the Confessor gathered herself and left the room, although every step in the other direction felt like wading through mud created by the chains and responsibilities that clung to her like the tang of shed blood after a battle.

Part 16

When Cara opened her eyes, it was to the calming sound of spring birds, the afternoon light warming her skin and sweet, merciful apathy infusing her essence.

For long moments she did nothing but watch the stone ceiling and walls in silence and let the noise of a normal, busy city echo back to her ears. There was a light scent of herbs in the air, of disinfectant and smoke and washed linen. Her limbs were heavy, some spots on her skin burning slightly where bruises touched the covering.

Cara registered all that without emotion or thought in her head, the minutes slipping by with her mind clouded in cotton and life going on outside her window.

Thank you, Mom.

She closed her eyelids once again and let quiet, hot tears slip down into her hair. When no liquid was left and the agony bearable enough that it stopped paralyzing her muscles, she wiped her face clean of the last trace of sorrow and willed her face into stoicism and her body into action.

Then she remembered that she had to murder a particular wizard.

They had not taken away her Agiels and the humming pain was a welcomed one ever since she had awakened. Pushing the blanket off of her, she cleaned herself with the water in the basin next to her bed, then checked the status of her wounds and marched toward the door.

She was back in Aydindril. The thought was a surreal one.

The door slammed against the wall when she pushed it open forcefully, alerting a waiting Richard to her presence. He scrambled up from the table, a tablet with food and drinks clinking before him at the sudden movement.

“Cara! You’re awake!” He smiled brightly, happy to see her in one piece after worrying for about four months. “I thought you might be hungry, so I got a few things to eat… I… didn’t know what you’d like, so I just took a bit of everything.”

And he really did. The whole tablet was full with different kinds of cooked meat, fruits, bread, topping, milk, water, wine and other items she couldn’t identify at first glance. The notion of eating made her sick, so she simply took a sip of the water.

“Thank you.” It was awkward and terse.

“Kahlan wanted me to wake her once you’re up and about, so–…”

“Let her sleep,” she interrupted, forcing herself not to clench her hand into a fist.

“She’s worried about you,” he noted softly, trying to search her eyes with his gentle brown ones. “And so am I. Look, if there’s anything I can do…”

“You can’t. I’m fine. Where’s Zedd?”

Sighing at her rigid stance and flat tone, he definitely knew now she was not fine, but was unable to help her when she was like this. And he refused to use his authority as Lord Rahl to command her to do something she didn’t want to do, like talk about what was burdening her, even if she didn’t show it. Richard could imagine what she tried to do anyway.

“At least eat something while I go wake Kahlan.”

“I want to know where Zedd is.”

The next sigh was born of frustration. “In his rooms. But I’m not telling you where they are, because I know you’re going to do something stupid when you find him.”

“I’m Mord’Sith. I never do anything stupid. And do you truly believe I can’t find the room of the wizard of the First Order on my own?”

Drawing a hand through his unruly hair, he realized his mistake and admitted defeat. “You’re right… Cara. Please. Give it a day or two to settle your anger.”

I’m not angry, she wanted to snap back and then understood that she was exactly that. But not only at Zedd… she was angry at everyone, most of all herself, for the simple fact that she had been too slow, too weak to save Noa from her fate at the hands of the Apothics.

Push it away, her training screamed and she did exactly that, brutally slamming Noa’s face closed behind a mental door. She needed to train and grow stronger until the throb of failing, of humiliation was cleansed from her hands. You need to be strong. And for that she needed to eat, as much as she hated to force something down into her stomach.

“Good. I’ll eat.” So she stiffly sat down on the bench and ripped a piece of bread between her hands apart, gnawing on the wheat product and some roasted boar. The mixture of herbs the meat was cooked with tasted foreign on her tongue. She finished with some watered down wine and fruit, all of it under Richard’s ever watchful, caring eye.

She had not yet swallowed down her last bite when a disheveled Mother Confessor rushed into the room, offering a bright smile when she saw Cara pushing herself up from the table

“Oh, you’re awake!” Her lips lost the happy stretch when she became aware of the harsh look on Cara’s face, coupled with an emptiness in her eyes that her Confessor power was unable to grasp. The Mord’Sith was back in her full duty–set persona, shutting out the world around her from whatever she hid from it… and from herself.

“If it is possible, I would like your allowance for a ride outside the city walls.”

“Of course, there is no need to ask me… you’re free to walk these halls,” Kahlan replied confused, suddenly feeling out of place in the middle of the common room she had halted in. It was as if the blonde prefered to stay as far away from her as possible.

“As a loyal servant of the Lord Rahl, it isn’t proper to assume I have the right to certain privileges given out by his rightful mate.”

That stung, the cold tone the words were delivered in more than the meaning itself. Kahlan buried her fingers in her dress, grasping the cloth tightly, unable to decide if she should bristle or flinch away.

“That was unneeded, Cara. We’re your friends,” Richard reprimanded her in a tired voice.

Knowing that maybe she had gone a step too far, Cara ducked her head in understanding. Then she stood back up straight and rigid. “I’m going for a ride.” When she strode ahead quickly, she paused next to the Mother Confessor. “I apologize for my words.” The sentence felt forced, but honest.

Kahlan nodded her acceptance and listened how the soldier–like, thundering steps vanished down the hallway. If stealth wasn’t needed, the Mord’Sith knew how to make even the sound of her walk exude danger.

“She needs time,” Richard whispered softly when he saw the crestfallen look on his love’s face.

Kahlan let herself be enveloped by his arms, unable to do slink away from the comfort she so desperately needed right now, dropping her forehead to his shoulder with a promise to herself that she would not let Cara’s biting facade keep her from trying to help the wounded woman.

“She needs more than time.” I fear she needs us to protect her from herself.

* * * * *

Cara kept to her word and stayed away from the wizard until her anger had cooled. Until everything in her body had cooled, down to a temperature that encased her whole inside with ice and frost. It was better to feel nothing than constantly worry about what might happen if she started to remember, to think.

That still didn’t keep her from marching wordlessly into Zedd’s rooms a week later and punching a fist against his nose hard enough that it would sting and leave a bruise, but not enough to break the bone. For Cara it had been more of a merciful nudge than a punch.

“Oww!” Zedd’s hands flew to his abused nose, covering half his face with both appendages. “Spirits!”

“You deserved that.”

“I presume I did,” he murmured with tears in his eyes. “Is that enough torment for today, or do you plan on rattling my bones with those wicked red sticks?”

“That should be enough for opening that Creator–forsaken portal of yours. But if you plan on calling my Agiels sticks again, I might decide to change my mind.”

Sighing and rubbing the rapidly forming red spot between his brows, he turned fully towards her. “Cara, I really am sorry for what went wrong. And I am also sorry for how everything turned out in the end. If I had known about the Dry Storms… I would’ve calculated my spell better and gotten you home sooner.”

And keeping me from ever caring for the girl that much. “Forget it. I came to you with two requests,” she changed the topic, folding her arms in front of her torso. It alerted Zedd to the difference on her he had not seen right away… Cara wore her full armor again, with the neck guard and the broad leather belts adorning her red suit.

The change surprised him, causing the older man to raise his brows in wonder, but Cara gave no explanation, although it seemed she was quite aware of what he was thinking. Knowing he would get no answer without outright asking, he concentrated instead on her reasons for visiting him.

“Tell me what I can do for you. I do believe I owe you a favor or two.”

The Mord’Sith tilted her head back and sucked on her teeth while pondering a second, then indicated her face with a gloved hand. “You changed Richard back to his age after he came back from the Underworld. Can you do the same with me?”

“That is within my powers, yes,” he replied with a smile and raised his hand to do what she had implied. But Cara took a hasty step back, fingers gripping a long strand of hair with a flash of terror in her eyes that had Zedd astonished.

“The hair stays.”

“If you wish so. Please don’t move for a second,” he calmed her and held his hand out again, surprised at himself. Here he was, using his magic on a Mord’Sith of all people without an ounce of fear, even after said being had bruised his nose enough that he would run around for days with pain. How things can change, he marveled, knowing that he would endure the bruise and not heal it, to remind him of his failure.

The change in her body was almost unnoticeable, when the spell coursed through her veins. Yet she was glad to know that she had gained those four years, her mind becoming older and more wise while her body was back to how it was before she had been forced away. She quelled the impulse to touch her face.

“So, is that the key to keeping yourself immortal? By having a wizard of the First Order keep you young forever?” she wondered out loud with lowered eyes.

“It’s not as easy as that. I was able to change you and Richard back because your bodies are supposed to be younger in this world than how they appeared. It’s like setting something back on its right track. Wizards and witchwoman in that case… well, it’s a bit more complicated how we reach that age.” He smiled and braced himself on the table surface. “What is the other thing I might help you with?”

Cara lost some of her haughty, brazen demeanor, her eyes flicking to the side, undecided. She loosened a pouch from her belt, pulling something out of it with utmost care, more gently than he thought was possible from the stoic woman.

When she showed him what lay on the palm of her hand, he looked confused. It was a flower, a Forget–Me–Not–blossom, beautifully made from the soft strands of blonde hair. A short check confirmed that it wasn’t Cara’s own, the hair color was wrong.

“I want you to put a spell on it… so that it won’t decay or fall apart.”

Understanding that the small trinket was important to the Mord’Sith, judging the almost soft look in the shimmering green when she gazed at it, he picked it up just as carefully. It was a good work and even without his powers as a wizard he felt that it was made with love.

“That should be no problem. I may need a day or two, but I will call you once it is done.”

She inclined her head at him. “Good.” Then she straightened her shoulders and every trace of softness or emotion was whiped from her features as if they had never been there at all, turning around to march to the still open door.

Before she could close it behind her, she called something over her shoulder, that had the wizard once again afraid and wondering if it was the brightest idea to trust a Mord’Sith with his life and well–being.

“And Zedd… if something happens to the flower, rattling your bones will be the least I’ll do to get my point across.”

The door slammed shut with the resonating echo of ultimacy.

* * * * *

Kahlan tried to talk to her, constantly. In the morning and in the evening, whenever she could get a hold on the busy Mord’Sith that was either out riding or whipping the guards into a shape that had them moaning and aching after every training, as Cara spotted every opening, slacking or misstep and exploited it without a qualm.

But Cara refused to open up, keeping herself busy from sun–up to sun–down, slipping through the Confessor’s hands as easily as water. And although Kahlan didn’t give up to break through Cara’s emotionless mask, the frustration at the lack of progress was evident.

“Cara–…” Kahlan tried once again, but the blonde slipped past her with barely a pause.

“Not now. I have an appointment.” And with that the red–clad figure was gone behind the next corner, her feet as silent as a cat’s again in her need to not be followed. For Kahlan it was as if Cara was running away from her at full speed, the chasm between them growing on a scale that had the brunette afraid she would lose every last thread that bound her to the other woman.

All she could do was look after her and wish, always wish, for something that was as impossible as counting every star in the sky when the sun shone its brightest. Little did she know what the day would bring.

Striding into one of the castle’s rooms as confident and unreachable as ever, Cara marched over to the wizard with purpose. She eyed him up and down with a wary tilt of her head, waiting for him to speak.

“I did what you asked, with success I might add,” he started, but his face was drawn, deep lines etched into skin. The blue of his eyes was dulled due to some unknown burden and he looked at her as if she was the one that had to carry the world on her shoulder in constant pain.

Cara furrowed her brows, unnerved. Something was not right. “Well, then give it to me.”

Reaching into a glass bowl and grasping the fake flower between his fingers, he offered it to her with a solemn look. Quickly taking it and checking the status of her gift, she was appeased to find it intact. Now it would be even safer if she carried it in her pouch and she could touch it without being afraid that it would fall apart between her fingers one day, the thought of that happening constricting the muscles of her ribs in a short convulsion as if the rhythm of her breathing was connected to the little, hand–made trinket.

Before she could turn to go, a gnarled hand grasped her shoulder in a pleading motion. She looked back at Zedd, uneasiness crawling up her spine when she saw how very worried he seemed. Placing the flower back in her pouch after trailing a gloved thumb across it, she stepped out of his touching range. “What is it, wizard?”

“There is something you should know,” he began, haltingly, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to speak further.

“Then open up, I don’t have time to dawdle around.” Cara stepped to another table, sniffing at the jug standing on top of it. Satisfied that it was simple water and not some magic contortion, she filled a mug with it and wet her mouth with the liquid. Zedd’s behavior had caused it to turn dry.

With a breath of air, he went on. “When I spelled the flower, I had an inkling that I followed. I don’t know why I did it, but… this is the young girl’s hair, am I correct?”

“Noa’s, yes,” she spoke over her shoulder, swishing the water slowly around in its container while her eyes unfocused at the unbidden memory the name conjured up.

There was a long moment of suffering silence. Cara placed the mug against her lips in a display of impatience.

“I did another spell.” He paused. “Cara… the young girl… she is your daughter. Your biological daughter.”

The mug clattered to the ground, the clear liquid sloshing all over the tiles.

No.

No, it can’t be.

“You’re lying,” she whispered in a half–plead, choked, unable to force more words past her closed up throat.

“I swear, it is the truth,” Zedd tried to make clear, valuing truth over empathic caution. “I rechecked all the results, as I was just as shocked and unbelieving as you are.”

No, you’re not. Not even close, her mind breathed, her limbs trembling while her heart beat more fast and wild with every thought that rushed through her head.

“The only answer I have is that Darken Rahl’s and your child might have been sent to Dazrodha when he found out you bore him a girl and not a male heir,” he went on, his voice barely moving past the thick fog that was enveloping her senses. “She is of the right age.”

Apathy. Her training kicked in, her natural instinct to remain in control over herself and her emotions trying to extend an iron encasing over her ripped open heart. How does he know? she wondered half–lucid, How does he know of my child with him?

My daughter…she is my daughter. She was my child.

Pure, white–hot anger ate its way through the dense, cotton–like substance clouding her mind at the man that had taken her offspring from her, only to leave her to the cruel fate of Darza, at the hands of the animals they called humans that inhabited that cursed world. He would pay for this, he would suffer a thousand deaths at her own hand until… until…

As quick as her rage had come, just as fleeting was its substance. She felt tired, empty. So deeply, devastatingly empty.

“She’s dead,” Cara stated in a far–away voice, turning around to where the door was. “I… need some time alone,” she added in a blank tone, not even caring what Zedd might think of the devastation written across her face. Her ears were filled up with the helpless cries of her newborn child, taken from her womb and carried down the long temple halls so many years ago. Uncaring and painless, thanks to her training, she had not spent her offspring, be it boy or girl, another thought back then.

Now it seemed like she was back in the dungeons, the echoing voice of the new life cauterizing its way into her insides until her whole frame resonated with the memory.

She absently heard him shout her name while she walked, but refused to stop and went on without really caring where she was going. Her shuffle turned into a march, her march into a jog and then she was running, speeding down the halls and down stairs until the gray walls were a blur and the only sound was that of her own harsh breathing and the slap of her feet against the ground.

By the time she stopped and became aware of her surroundings, Cara realized she had reached her own chamber. But still her gasps and the rush of blood in her ear was the only sound that had a chance to touch her senses, her mind rushing and turning and causing her legs to nearly give out beneath her.

She grasped her Agiels, tightly. Dug in until the pain caused her arm to shake uncontrollably, yet it wasn’t enough to clear her head, to calm her insides. Was there no end to her torment? It felt like she was breaking all over again, worse than in the dungeons of her training, worse than under the hands of her Sisters.

Dragging the leather rods out of their holsters she hugged them close, letting her eyelids drop down and the pain flood her every nerve. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t heal or calm or clean like it should. So she forced her will onto them, raising the power until her heart pounded strong enough that the vein at her neck was close to breaking open with the black lines sneaking their way across her sweat–soaked skin.

And yet she continued to fill herself with agony, dropping down to her knees when her wracking frame was not able to keep her upright anymore. Cara could feel her limbs become tightly coiled heaps of burning muscles from the sensory overload of the weapons.

It was only when her fluttering heart threatened to give out from the combined song of mayhem of two Agiels that she felt alive again, the blinding, white light of pain filling up every cell and every corner of her being when she hovered a step away from ultimate demise.

The leather rods dropped to the ground.

Harsh, hacked gasps resonated from the walls and ceiling, causing Cara to nearly choke on the sobs that constricted her drained body. There was no hurt greater than the one of the soul and she lay helplessly under its force, crying what felt like endless tears into the crook of her trembling arm.

And then warmth encased her skin, arms enveloping her shivering body and stroking her back and hair. A soothing voice hummed into the shell of her ear, the breath caressing it more healing than any mortal magic. The words coaxing out her sorrow and sadness until all Cara could do was cry and scream out everything that wounded her so deeply.

She cried for her lost child. She cried for a love that danced just out of her grasp and that she could never acknowledge. She cried for everything she had sacrificed. But most of all she cried for herself, for the parts of her soul that were lost forever, scarred over beyond recognition, and the fulfillment she could only reach at the height of inhuman pain. No words were uttered, but they were unneeded and unable to tell the dozen truths of every tear that slipped down her cheeks and into the soft, brown hair of the woman that held her close.

After a long time her voice was hoarse and all that slipped past her lips were whimpers. Soon those were gone too and although Cara was awake, her breaths were deep and even.

She felt empty, but now the void was calming and new. Clean. Cleaner than any pain the Agiels could offer her.

They stayed seated like this for what seemed like hours, the last rays of sunlight long gone from the surface of the Midlands. Both woman entangled in each other, arms grasping, faces buried in long hair.

“She…she was…” Cara finally rasped, but was hushed by a kiss placed atop her hairline.

“I know,” was all the Mother Confessor replied, fingers trailing down beside the line of straps holding the suit closed. “I know.”

And that was enough. Kahlan knew. Letting the brunette help her on the bed, exhausting making her muscles weak, she pulled the white robbed woman close to her own skin, until her warmth could chase away all that was bad, leaving only room for the memories that made her smile and content and which followed her down into the depth of her dreams.

They stayed like that until the morning light found them asleep with clasped hands and mingled hair of light and dark.

The Agiels lay forgotten on the cold stone floor.

Part 17

Cara accepted Kahlan’s presence the next morning without comment. The brunette had seen her at her weakest and had, without judging or pitying, simply offered her shoulder to the broken woman. Now Cara no longer felt the strange need to run away and hide when meeting her in the hallways, even staying close to the Mother Confessor during breakfast and inducing small–talk if she felt comfortable enough to do so.

There was still an open wound that Kahlan could see bleeding permanently inside the blonde, knowing that even though Cara had changed for the better since that night, there was still a long way to go before it could form a scab and start to heal. It was one more scar to add to the damaged Mord’Sith’s heart.

So when the day outside was beautiful, warm, and Kahlan had the hunch that Cara would feel the need to roam the woods, she sought the other woman out and joined her on the ride. At first the blonde had grumbled and refused, but Kahlan’s will was harder than iron. Certainly stronger than a stubborn Mord’Sith’s head when it came to interpersonal relations.

And so the Mother Confessor got her wish: She was riding next to her clueless beloved, without her twitchy shadows of the house guard and free from the ears and eyes that hid in every creak of the castle walls like annoying, persistent bugs.

“You seem to like nature much more now than during our journey to the Pillars,” Kahlan remarked while stretching her face towards the sunlight. The direct contact with the unforgiving rays would mean a dozen more new freckles on her pale skin, but it was worth the warmth.

“I lived in it for years. The city feels… confining. My senses are much finer than before and such a huge amount of people in a small space is sensory overload after a while.”

“Aren’t Mord’Sith trained to the finest? You could spot advancing enemies already better than all of us.”

“That was before I started playing hide–and–seek exercises with one of the sneakiest creatures I’ve ever met,” Cara answered and turned her intense green eyes over to the brunette.

Kahlan tilted her head. “Creature? Not the Apothics, I hope.”

“No. Noa.” Cara’s look was nondescript, fine features schooled even though she did not hide from her pain as much anymore in front of Kahlan. Then she concentrated back on the trading route they were following without haste.

Smiling sadly, the Mother Confessor understood that the best way to make the Mord’Sith ease up to her sadness and memories was to confront them head–on. And that was by talking about it.

“Tell me about Noa.”

Cara threw her a strange look.

“Please,” Kahlan added with a softer smile, gently nudging the smaller woman’s thigh with her knee after pulling the horse over. Cara huffed and gazed into an empty cornfield, toying with the notion.

They rode on for about half an hour in patient silence through the blooming spring when Cara interrupted Kahlan’s train of thought by suddenly starting to speak.

“The kid was horribly impulsive, chaotic and reckless. Whatever I did or how much I tried to teach her to think her actions through, she always fell back on her instinct. Sometimes her head was scattered all over the place. But it made her a good fighter, a creative one, I could never anticipate what she would do next. It also made her do incredible stupid things,” it broke out of the blonde, surprising Kahlan with the long oral fluency that was uncharacteristic for the reticent Mord’Sith.

Cara told stories of how the girl had accomplished to get herself into the most impossible situations, from getting stuck in a hollow tree to being chased by a whole army of angry bees after stealing honey and even setting herself constantly on fire, because she experimented with different inflammable herbs. The mother boar memory found its way into her retelling and had the brunette laugh out loud at the image of a flailing Noa.

The ride of this day was the first of many, the blue–eyed beauty joining her friend whenever her duties as Mother Confessor and ruler gave her some free time. The beginning of the year quickly traversed into the first days of summer and they found themselves resting beside a patiently gurgling stream after riding through the lively forest.

Kahlan picked some leaves out of her hair, the dark strands having gotten tangled in a low–hanging branch when she was busy watching Cara’s strong back and sultry hips move with every step of her mount. At her resulting curse the blonde had simply turned and smirked mercilessly in her usual way at the Mother Confessor’s plight. It reminded her of the old Cara, the one that had traveled with them across the whole of Midlands.

She was surprised when the blonde now sat down behind her on the stone Kahlan was leaning against, slapping the brunette’s hands away and replacing them with her own. The Confessor had to swallow a pleasantly surprised groan when she felt Cara’s ungloved fingers brushing her hair and skin free of tree parts and knots. Instead she closed her eyes and tried not to purr at the sweet gesture and feminine fingertips gracing her scalp.

“You always make that unbecoming face when you try to untangle your hair,” Cara said by way of explanation.

“Confessors can’t cut their own hair. When I try to ease the knots I’m scared I might pull a few strands out… I could as well bath my head in molten lava when that happens.”

“Sounds fetching.”

Kahlan could only snort at that with a smile, easing her eyes open to imprint the perfect scene into her mind forever. After a while her hair was back in order, but Cara did not move away and instead laid her hands down on the brunettes shoulders, the taller woman stretching out her legs and touching her temple to a leather clad thigh.

“I heard the citizens are getting restless,” the blonde hinted in a nonchalant tone, feeling how the Confessor stiffened.

Kahlan sighed. Her duty followed her on relentless feet even into her most private moments, never unhooking its claws from her body and soul. “They… are unsure. Scared. I’m the last Confessor and they are afraid it will stay that way. They are demanding a successor, one to preserve the line.”

“You are free to mate with the Lord Rahl.”

Biting her tongue to keep from snapping at the blonde woman, she reminded herself of the fact that Cara didn’t know about the recent events. “I… “ don’t want to “… we can’t. Shota warned us that our firstborn would be a male Confessor.”

Cara sucked in her breath between her teeth at that information, images of her dead Sisters flashing before her eyes, a horrifying message scratched into the floor tile. “I am the last of the Mord’Sith.” It was like a dire warning.

“That changes things,” she replied neutrally and slipped down next to Kahlan, so that they sat shoulder to shoulder.

The need for words abated for a while, both woman glancing down into the sparkling water and lost in their own thoughts.

“Cara?”

The one addressed shifted her head slightly.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Ask.”

“If Noa was your and Darken Rahl’s child… why was she sent away? As a female she should not have been a threat,” Kahlan asked, choosing what she wanted to say carefully.

“I don’t know. Although it isn’t forbidden for Mord’Sith to bear children, it is very uncommon and more or less frowned upon.” Cara let her head fall back against the stone, dragging one knee closer with her hands. “Only the power of reflecting magic is inherited by the female children. But as only the kindest girls of a village are broken for our needs, whatever child a Mord’Sith bears is useless for our Order.”

“So they are… killed after being born?”

“Yes.”

“And the males?”

“Join the army at young age.”

Kahlan bit her lip, wondering why she had felt the need to ask about that specific topic. Though she still wondered why Darken Rahl had taken the complicated route of sending Noa to another world instead of killing her right away. It made no sense, no matter from what angle she looked at it.

Cara took a shuddering breath. “If I had been faster, stronger, she wouldn’t have–…”

“No,” Kahlan forbid firmly. “Don’t go there, Cara, it isn’t your fault. She chose to do this.”

Softly she laid her head down against Cara’s shoulder, the neck guard digging into her cheek. She didn’t mind, the blonde’s body heat against her skin was more important. It was a wonder that the blonde didn’t shy away from her touch anymore, at least not simple affections like this or touching her hand or arm. And it was always Kahlan that initiated the contact, but the Confessor was content with it anyway.

“Tell me more about your daughter,” Kahlan quietly requested, aware of the small twitch Cara gave off whenever that last word fell from her lips. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Cara worrying her lower lip, cyan green flicking from side to side in hesitancy while she tried to order her memories.

Somehow Kahlan had the feeling that this one wouldn’t be a fond one, with the depressive mood the blonde now was in.

“Noa already died once on Darza,” Cara whispered into the warm afternoon air that caused Kahlan to feel a chill despite the temperature. “I brought her back.”

The Confessor had been correct in her assumption that what followed would be sad and heart–wrenching and she waited with bated breath as the Mord’Sith told her story. Although Cara’s voice was to the point, calm, the brunette could still feel the horror of the day woven into every syllable and soon found herself in tears, interlacing her free hand with one of the other woman’s to give herself as much solace as to Cara.

She was only able to draw a shuddering gasp of air when the blonde finished with telling her story of Noa’s scar, the Mord’Sith wiping away the Mother Confessor’s salty tears distractedly with the back of her fingers.

“Those people were… horrible. Her voice might have been gone forever… how cruel that has to be. I’m so sorry for her,” Kahlan couldn’t help but say outraged.

“Don’t be,” Cara mentioned with a thin smile on her lips, “in the end she made the best of it. Thought it made her sound dangerous. She even attempted to imitate several different predators from that point on.”

Reflecting the smile, Kahlan watched the blonde strands of Cara’s hair slip down her shoulder, pooling around her hips, the brunette’s fingers itching to push them back. Cara wore it in a loose ponytail today, otherwise the Confessor would have never been able to get distracted by the Mord’Sith’s fetching backside. “Did she succeed?”

This time the blonde actually showed a hint of white teeth while she let out a small guffaw. “Not quite. It was only after we reached the Dead Wall that she stopped sounding like an agitated lion cub.” Reminiscent, with a hint of a smile on full lips, Cara gazed into the distance. “It’s a wonder she didn’t drive me crazy.”

“You were a wonderful mother to her,” Kahlan felt herself say, knowing that her eyes shone with something she better kept hidden.

Mother Confessor and Mord’Sith locked gazes, watching each other, thinking, searching. Not quite knowing what to suspect and yet knowing all too much, the conflict of secret and need fighting a war filled with endless battles. Only one of them had to take one step forward into the unknown, to grasp for whatever lay behind the mask of green and blue and find out what it was that sometimes reared its head around the corner.

All it took would be a word, a breath, a gesture.

Cara looked away first.

“It’s getting dark soon. We should head back.”

Kahlan closed her eyes, pain flaring up in her soul. This is how it should be. How it should stay. You have her as a friend, don’t let your greed destroy this. “Yes. You’re right.” She loosened her fingers out of Cara’s and raised herself to her full height until she was able to breathe again.

Yet she was unable to turn herself away when the blonde pulled herself up on her chestnut horse, the sinking sun enveloping her in a shine that made her every movement even more graceful, more desirable. With her long mane glimmering like molten gold, the strong, fearless Mord’Sith was the very image of an immortal gracing the living with her all–consuming presence as her intense gaze traveled along the horizon.

It was breath–taking. It was untouchable.

And Kahlan knew she would rather stand and watch this woman from afar for all eternity than knowing her gone forever in return for a shameless touch.

It has to be enough.

* * * * *

Several weeks later, just past the hottest days of summer that had caused the people of Aydindril and the Midlands to suffer greatly under the harsh sun, the weather turned around enough that the lethargy was slowly driven from their bones and flesh. Cara managed to gather the guards for a training that had everyone groaning and moaning, as a fight with the Mord’Sith always meant aching limbs for all those involved.

But they were unable to protest, as Cara had not only the encouragement of the Mother Confessor, but also the slow yet notable success of improvement on her side. Those that trained under her always suffered greatly, but were noted quicker by the commandants when it came to distributing responsibility during troop assembly.

The blonde was busy dropping one recruit after the other on their backs below the afternoon sky, gliding through their lines with practiced ease, when she became aware of a smiling Seeker and Confessor watching her from the sidelines of the drill ground, both observing her amused with their arms on the rail.

Cara pivoted around, threw a hollering soldier over her shoulder and moved into a crouch, hammering both Agiels into the solar plexus of the two unfortunate beings that had tried to use her turned back to their advantage. They bowed with a gasp of air, only to taste dirt when she slammed her hands into their necks, effectively laying them out spread–eagled on the dusty ground.

Twirling one of her weapons with a flick of her wrist, she lazily turned towards the observing pair.

“Care to join?” she drawled, sweeping her tongue over her upper teeth. The other soldiers silently heaved a sigh of relief that maybe they would not not be beaten to a pulp today.

Richard pushed himself away from the fence with a contemplative smile.

“Careful, she has become better since the last time we saw her,” Kahlan warned him, seeing that the fighting lust was rising in his eyes. It had been months since the last time he had an opponent that required him to work hard for a victory and even though he had been only a woodcutter two years ago, the experience he had gained from the Sword of Truth was now integral to his personality, the will to fight merged with his soul.

“And I already beat you once,” Cara added with a smirk, the defeated men around her groaning and trying to crawl and hobble out of the exercise area.

Richard jumped over the hindrance with an easy leap, happy to be able to draw and use his sword without having to kill or seriously hurt someone. He laughed. “I didn’t have the Sword of Truth then.”

“And I only had one Agiel,” she purred in return, scratching the tip of the rod along the underside of her chin. “So let’s see what tilts the balance more.”

They started circling each other lazily on the hard–packed soil, trying to decipher their opponents first move. The soon–to–be fight had the bystanders silent in anticipation and awe, more observers soon joining the groups and hustling along the rails. The men and women left a respectful ring around Kahlan, trying not to crowd their ruler, but the Mother Confessor wouldn’t have noted it anyway, as her eyes were riveted to the two combatants.

It was Richard who decided to act first.

He rushed forward with a small shout, slashing at the red–clad woman with a diagonal swipe to check her defenses. He could have as well attacked fully, as Cara leaned out of his range with an almost bored look on her face.

The trading of blows soon began, Richard thrusting and slashing at the Mord’Sith, Cara slipping out of his grasp or diverting blows with a well–placed slap of the leather rods. For the moment they appeared to be equals. Neither was gaining the upper hand, the Seeker unable to hit the smoothly moving blonde and Cara not getting close enough into his range for a well–placed attack.

“So, big words at the beginning?” Richard panted, a wide grin stretching across his lips. They jumped apart, again circling the ground.

“Are you sweating already, Richard? Poor boy, I’ve hardly started.”

And then Richard got the surprise of his life as Cara jumped forward and attacked. He found himself on the defense within mere seconds, one sword unable to block the amount of blows that pelted him from all sides. Cara was as smooth as water, a lot more agile with two single–handed weapons, hitting every weak and vulnerable spot he displayed even for the blink of an eye. Only the Sword of Truth in his hands kept him from outright loosing with the shock in his system.

He gnashed his teeth, sweat dotting his skin. The Seeker was slowly driven back step by step, but his stubborn mind kept him from admitting defeat in any way.

They rushed at each other again, the fight quickly turning into an all–out that had the watchers drop their jaws in awe.

Kahlan was the only one experienced enough to see that Cara was still not going full out. While Richard was handy at keeping her busy, her blows were less hard and crippling as they could be. But the brunette was distracted from her analyzing by the almost catlike reflexes the blonde displayed, bending her body this way and that, hair trailing behind her like a velvet veil.

This was more beautiful than any court dance could ever accomplish to be.

It was when Richard picked up his speed even more, muscles screaming at the overexertion, raising the blade for a powerful cut when Cara moved faster than he could have ever anticipated and slapped both Agiels against the right side of his ribs with bruising force while his arms were raised for just a small moment. His lungs collapsed from the explosion of pain, his upper body hunched together without his consent. He barely managed to hold on to the grip of his weapon.

Stumbling back to regain his footing amidst the loud exhale of gasps all around him, he saw Cara up the ante with a wide step forward, trying to jam the tip of her weapon against his shoulder. He reacted out of instinct, turning himself away and kicking at the outstretched leg while simultaneously slamming the pummel of the sword above her collarbone and watching her fall to the ground in a big cloud of dust. His hand moved on impulse, pointing the tip of the blade against her throat.

“You lost,” Richard said aghast, breathing heavily. “With what you displayed seconds ago, I should have never been able to hit you like this.”

Cara snorted unladylike, pulling herself up on her elbows while her hair splayed around her like a golden curtain. “A Mord’Sith that beats their beloved Seeker? I may be insensitive, but I’m not stupid.”

“So you let me win,” he added dumbfounded at what should have been his outright defeat.

“Maybe. Or you just got a lucky hit, who knows.” Cara raised her eyebrows and pointedly pushed the sword tip away from herself with a gloved finger. Richard got the hint and put away his weapon, reaching out to offer the Mord’Sith a helpful hand. As he was her Lord Rahl, she accepted the gesture and let herself be pulled up.

Kahlan joined them seconds later, her cheeks a rosy pink and her features glowing at the impressive display they had offered. “You two were amazing. I’m sure that this is a fight the whole city will speak about for months.”

“Cara would’ve wiped the floor with me if she wanted to,” Richard admitted, taking his victory with the rightful amount of humbleness after nearly losing. “I should have heeded your warning, Kahlan.”

She smiled at him, then placed a hand against Cara’s upper arm, amazement and admiration coloring her gaze. “I never expected you to become this good.”

“Daily training and several run–ins with the Apothics for several years can do that to you.”

“But that natural beauty you show in a fight comes from your heart.”

Cara looked away in embarrassment, nervously biting the inside of her cheek. It was such an adorable image that Kahlan couldn’t help but hug her close to her side for a moment with a soft laugh, then easing forward to give Richard a peck on the cheek.

“That’s your price for winning the fight. You fought bravely, my Seeker. Just remember to not raise your hand the next time Cara gets cocky around you.”

“Yeah,” he added while rubbing the back of his neck. “I should now that Cara doesn’t boast without a solid reason.”

“I’m right here, you know,” the Mord’Sith grumbled, causing her friends to laugh at the disgruntled look.

“We have to celebrate that with a good meal. What do you say, ladies?”

Nodding at the idea, although Cara wasn’t very happy to eat food while covered in sweat and dust, the Seeker led the way past the drill grounds, big, awe–filled eyes following him when he left. But the respect they showed Richard was also given to Cara, whom they had seen fight before but never like this. The next time the Mord’Sith would call for a training session, the recruits would put more effort into the fight than ever before.

With Richard’s back towards them, the Seeker busy shaking hands and earning claps on the back, Kahlan stealthily stepped closer to Cara and kissed the bronzed cheek as well.

“And that’s your price.”

Cara gazed at her with wide, confused eyes, a hint of red coloring her skin. “What for? I didn’t win.” The affection had come as a honest surprise.

“Maybe not the fight,” Kahlan admitted with a lovely smile. “But you’re the winner of hearts today.”

Cara let that linger in her mind for a while, following after Mother Confessor and Seeker. It was true that even after losing the people around her smiled more openly at the Mord’Sith and not everyone looked away or cowered in fear anymore.

But she couldn’t help but treacherously hope that the brunette’s words had implied more than just the general opinion. Her cheek tingled for a long time.

Part 18

Cara woke up in the morning and, for a small, single fragment of time, almost believed she was lying on her bedroll in the woods of Darza and would find a slumbering, blonde kid lying near the fire once she turned her head.

But her bed was too soft. The sounds in the air were too different. And there was too much pain in her chest at the thought of Noa for her to be save and sound.

Yet her repression was back in action and waking up to the memory and reality of her child gone was getting easier with every day. She didn’t want to hurt and cry anymore. She didn’t want to see Noa doomed to a painful death every moment she closed her eyes.

Cara wanted to remember the girl’s smile and her laugh, how easily she jumped from tree to tree as if born with her trained abilities. She wanted to think of the happy times they had spend together, if only in honor of Noa’s memory. The small fox wouldn’t have wanted her to suffer without end.

Relieving the years in the other world with Kahlan helped. After starting with one tale it had become a slow craving to make the Mother Confessor experience everything that happened through her words. Maybe it was the small hope that it kept Noa more alive if the only other human being around the Mord’Sith that remembered her daughter understood what the two of them had gone through by listening to Cara’s journey.

Slowly peeling herself out of the fur covers, the Mord’Sith rubbed her eyes even though the tiredness from sleep had long faded. There was a different kind of exhaustion in her substance, one that would only get easier with time. Time was all she had now.

Time and my friends.

Thinking of the others was becoming strangely hard, too. And Cara skirted around the reason for it like a professional, always looking the other way when the problem dared to come up.

She dragged herself over to the window that overlooked the backside of Aydindril, the lush green of the forest in the distance encasing the stone buildings like a loving embrace. The city was beautiful and astonishing with its interwoven exchange of expensive, impressive parts and the more homely, less cultivated areas that integrated into the overall structure like a puzzle piece. It certainly wouldn’t have been possible in D’Hara.

It was so easy to imagine Aydrindril as her new home, especially with Darken Rahl back in power.

Gently she carried a small bag over to the opening, taking a seat on the sill and easing the trinket out on her palm. Watching the morning light play on the light strands of Noa’s gift, she wrapped her fingers around it and placed it closer to her heart, cradling it as softly as the dying Night Wisp years ago.

“I have a problem, Noa,” she whispered softly into the warm air. “It’s called Kahlan and it’s infuriatingly addictive.”

Denying the truth that fluttered behind her breast bone seemed unneeded with herself sitting in solitary silence and the picture of two different colored eyes swimming at the back of her mind, so she simply let it unfurl and fly into nothingness, unheard by any living soul but herself.

Kahlan was getting under her skin and worming her way through every soft, tender spot in her heart, nesting and refusing to leave anymore. It was becoming harder to tear herself away from the captivating blueness framed by dark lashes, sometimes it felt as if Cara was ripping a piece of herself off every time she refused to sink deeper into the ocean deep color.

And those lingering glances were getting more frequent. Not during meal times or inside the castle walls, but every day they spend riding in the woods. It was always the same, the Mord’Sith starting with a few stories of the four years she was gone, Kahlan listening attentively and then steering the memories with her questions and interest. They would stop at a certain point, talking about different topics or sitting beside each other in wordless companionship before turning back to the city.

It was this quiet that Cara dreaded and wanted the most.

When Kahlan would start to touch or stay huddled close despite the temperatures, craving the human contact in the way the blonde had come to know her. But it was always afterwards when Kahlan offered her a smile or a warm gaze that Cara found herself captured.

She knew she had never looked at another human being the way she looked at Kahlan in these moments and even though she still found herself guarded even then, not even Dahlia knew the pool of emotion that swam in her eyes whenever she drowned in Kahlan’s gaze. Without anything to distract or remind her that it wasn’t her place to feel this.

She’s the Lord Rahl’s mate. She is the Mother Confessor and ruler of the Midlands. She’s a Confessor, for Creator’s sake.

And I am the murderer of her sister.

Whatever had started to fester inside of her, it was the most stupid thing Cara had ever allowed and she knew that it would only bring more pain and heartache that even the craftiest torture in the dungeons couldn’t compare to. As if she wasn’t already burdened enough.

“I need to stop it from going further. Kahlan would never understand… no one would understand.”

Want. Lust. Desire. Need. And something deeper than all four combined. For now, in the early morning hours of this day, she admitted it to herself only for this one time before burying it in a grave behind her mental walls and never dragging it up again.

Friendship and duty were more important than this foolish, wanton emotions. Cara closed her eyes and laid her head back against the cool stone beside the window frame.

“We really are cursed creatures, Noa. We stand apart from the world around us, watching as it drifts by. The Creator broke away a piece of ourselves to ensure that we won’t fit, that we never can. ”

Kahlan… if only.

Sighing and dragging her thumb across the smooth flower one last time, she got herself dressed with an aura of finality around her. While she would not end their trips into the woods, Cara decided to not let all of the confusion inside of her get in the way of indulging what she had of the gracious ruler.

When she moved down the staircase to the breakfast table, she could see Kahlan and Zedd already chatting and eating happily away. Thankfully the castle was stacked with enough food even for the wizard and his gluttony.

“Good morning, Cara,” Kahlan piped up, smiling wider the instant she spotted the blonde. Zedd held up a hand in greeting, his mouth full with bread and dead animal.

“I see that I should be thankful you left something behind for the late eaters.”

The Mother Confessor laughed at Zedd’s affronted face, placing her cutlery down on the dirty plate, having already finished her meal.

“No comment in your defense, wizard?” Cara taunted the older man, while interlacing her fingers under her chin after taking her seat.

Zedd kept on chewing and flicked her jibe away with a flick of his wrist, concentrating back on his food with a mock-offended turn of his head. Cara chuckled low, grabbing a piece of bread and nibbling at the edge.

“So, Kahlan… the weather is quite nice today. Not too hot, I believe,” she started carefully while concentrating on filling her cup with fresh water. She was curious if the brunette would take the hint.

But a gaze upward showed her a pair of sad, blue eyes reflecting back at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Cara… I already promised Richard I would spend the day with him,” the brunette admitted, her tone laced with a strong vibe of chagrin that had even the wizard raise an eyebrow in wonder. Kahlan quickly cleared her throat. “Maybe we can ride out tomorrow? I looked forward to accompanying him since days. …You could come with us, if you’d like?”

“No, thank you,” the Mord’Sith replied, trying to not let the disappointment cloud her voice. She trained her gaze on the bread she was buttering, fishing for an excuse. “I’m not fond of mingling with the commoners, it’s too loud and crowded. And I’m sure you and Richard are well protected within the city walls.”

“Oh, I can assure you of that. Well, I’ll go and get myself ready. Have a nice ride, Cara. Zedd.” She nodded at the two of them before easing herself out of her chair with a strange reluctance, vanishing behind one of the wooden doors.

Cara refused to look up from where she prepared her food and answered all of Zedd’s chatter with automatic responses, trying to deal with a new feeling that just added to the annoying mixture that was already mingling inside of her like a nest of squirming snakes.

Jealousy.

We are cursed creatures.

* * * * *

Kahlan swept her hands once more over the freshly pressed cloth that covered her frame. The Mother Confessor’s dress was whiter than normal, almost gleaming in the half-dark of her room. Sighing deeply and knowing that it was time to fulfill her duty, she carefully pulled the hood over her curly locks.

Time to face the music.

Walking down the floors with her head held high and her hands regally crossed before her abdomen, a couple of guards joined her on her way to her destination. They were specially chosen for this evening, their uniforms just as clean and polished like the ruler herself. The four of them flanked her on both sides and their mechanic steps and set mouths meant business.

No one would dare to question her rule today.

Allowing herself one deep breath, Kahlan watched as the servants opened the big double doors and felt as a wave of sound and light spilled over her, ending the calm silence that had enveloped her during her walk.

She hated the sour taste of foreboding.

“Attention, Lords and Ladys of the Midland Kingdoms! Her highness, Mother Confessor Kahlan Amnell!”

Hushed whispers fluttered through the large ballroom, people hurrying to the best spots to get a glimpse of the captivating, young ruler. The hall was filled with royalty of the closest surrounding kingdoms under Aydindril’s superior rule. It was an annual festival near the end of summer, praising the incoming autumn and the regime of the Confessors that was successfully established since over 3000 years. And it demanded that Kahlan herself sat and ate with the kings and queens that decided to mingle in the ballroom and that wanted the Mother Confessor’s favor.

It was as annoying as it was necessary.

“Good evening, Mother Confessor,” the king of Baluth happily greeted her with a fake smile and a huge amount of white powder clinging to his face. “How wonderful of you to join us this evening! You are positively radiant tonight.”

She forced a smile on her face, nodding at the aggravating man and then making her way across the room.

“It is such an honor to meet you, Mother Confessor,” Queen Malita gushed when Kahlan walked past her. The brunette nearly had to squint at the dozen colliers and chains draped around the woman’s neck that reflected the firelight like numerous little mirrors.

She inclined her head in greeting and quickly hurried on.

“Mother Confessor. It is our pleasure,” a cool, controlled voice offered from her right. She turned and saw the King and Queen of Maorek stand behind her, a good-looking royal pair, very reserved and high in influence. And arrogant through and through. Their pretty, young daughter lingered in the background with a sour look on her face.

“As it is my. I hope you enjoy the banquet,” Kahlan said with a glimpse of her white teeth. Taking her leave, she added a swish of her long dress to her turn.

Twenty false smiles later, from both hostess and guests, she kept herself from clenching her jaw in outright frustration.

Please let this be over soon.

“Kahlan!” A well-known figure found its way through the crowd towards her and she sighed in relief.

“Thank the Creator, Richard.” She grabbed him and linked her arm with his, trying to appear as if they were having an important conversation that excluded the rest of the visitors. Everyone loved the good-natured young man that had saved the world together with them and she could feel the envious glares of the women all around her. “This hassle is annoying me more than usual.”

“Ah, it’s just a meal and another hour of lingering and then you’re free to end the festivities,” he calmed her down. “You should have seen what we went through when trying to get you out of that Margrave’s dungeon.”

She had to laugh at that, the first memory jumping to her mind that of Zedd in a dress. How hilarious that picture had been! And Richard’s recount of how he had tried his matchmaking skills with the cross-dressing wizard and one of the castle’s staff nearly had her in stitches every time she thought back to it. But the image of Zedd in women’s clothes always brought with it the one of Cara. In a weird, pink gown that hugged her curves and a neckline deep enough that Kahlan felt her mouth go dry even now.

“Where’s Cara?” Kahlan asked distracted, trying not to think anymore of the Mord’Sith in such female clothing. “I saw Zedd lingering somewhere near the food… as always.”

“I think she’s observing the whole party from one of the pillars. Want me to get her?”

“No,” the brunette refused, with a hint of bittersweet sadness in her voice. “Let’s just… sit down and eat.”

As Richard was her companion today, the well-known Seeker of Truth all dressed up in a nice, brown-red suit, they sat down together on the gallery. The Mother Confessor was seated in the middle on a large, throne-like chair, with Richard to her right and Zedd, as her wizard of the First Order, to the left. The rest of the royal visitors found their place on tables in the lower portion of the hall, under the watchful eyes of their matriarch.

The ballroom was an impressively large hall inside the castle of Aydindril, even if not the largest. All walls and the floor were made of white marble and the ceiling was covered with paintings of all famous Confessors. Aydindrils colors were found everywhere, tapestries and thick carpets covering huge parts of the light stone, dozens of torchlights and candles giving the whole scene a special glow.

Yet Kahlan didn’t feel well inside the borders of her own home. Something was weighing her down, on top of the consistent need to be closer to the blonde. She tried to push it away and focus her mind on the banquet, tasting every specialty the kingdoms had brought with them from their homes. But even the most savory meal couldn’t lift the heavy feeling on her shoulders.

The very second the pushed her plate away and took a sip from the watered down wine, she felt warm fingers enveloping her free hand. A chair screeched and suddenly Richard stood up next to her.

The apprehension in the back of her mind morphed into dread as the room hushed.

“Respected lords and ladies, let me thank all of you for coming tonight. In respect of today’s celebration I decided to do something rash… I hope you will forgive my intrusion.”

His deep, brown eyes, like those of a kind and noble stag, turned towards her and he softly pulled at her hand. Feeling her heart pound in what was not anticipation but fear, she slowly joined him in standing.

“Kahlan,” he began in that sweet voice that had her melt during the first months after meeting him and that now only stoked the painful guilt inside of her. “I know that our love and journey was filled with many hindrances. We overcame so much: Darken Rahl, the Keeper, your gift.

Even now Shota’s warning keeps us apart, although we were so close to being in a normal relationship.”

She could only look at him with wide eyes and a lump in her throat that threatened her to hyperventilate on the spot. Stay strong, the teachers of her past ghosted through her thoughts, keep yourself erect and powerful. You are a Confessor.

Kahlan composed her features.

“Yet I am unwilling to have others dictate our happiness for any longer. We will find a way to overcome that which stands in our way, just like we succeeded with every other task laid on our shoulders. You are the Mother Confessor and I am your Seeker. Nothing is stronger than our love.”

Oh Richard. Please don’t do this. I’m so sorry. Can’t you see the lie in my eyes?….

The Seeker took a deep breath, nervousness and anticipation making the hands clammy that held her own. He was so sweet when he was unsure, yet desperate to bring it through to the end.

“Kahlan Amnell, I love you. Do you want to marry me?”

There was no sound in the air. Everyone held their breath.

And Kahlan felt like she might die. If it was possible to be torn in two without magic, she was just a hair’s breadth away from breaking apart at the seams. Her eyes flicked to the side and met guarded, cyan green for a second, for an eternity, before the red-clad figure vanished in the shadows.

Stay strong. You are a Confessor.

This is for the good of Aydindril.

You have to keep the line intact.

Cara. If only.

“Yes.” Her voice cracked and the tear that slipped down her cheek was the evidence of her heart breaking, but no one understood its meaning, as her lips were stretched into the most perfect fake smile she had ever created in her life.

The room erupted into cheers, a lot of them as fake as the mask over her face. People clapped and threw congratulations in their direction. Richard looked like the happiest man alive, clasping her head between his hands and giving her a sweet kiss and she hated herself for wishing that his lips belonged to a different person.

The brunette felt that everything passed by in a blur, as if she was standing beside herself and observed how she shook hands, accepted good wishes and basically appeared like her dream had come true. No one noted the defeated deadness in hooded blue, the lively sparkle lost to the dark of the night.

It was only when she grew dizzy, almost keeling over in her masquerade, that she decided that she needed to get away from this right now. Whispering a quick excuse in Richard’s ear and waving away Zedd’s helping hand, she hurried to the large double doors that symbolized her freedom, if only for a short while.

She kept the royal guards at their spot beside the pillars with a pointed look, a flick of her wrist causing the servants to stumble over themselves to open the doors for her. Forcing herself to walk upright and tempered instead of outright fleeing, she crossed the threshold in large steps.

The doors slammed shut. The world was closed off behind them. In the vacant hallway Kahlan put her hands to her face and took a shuddering breath, her tear glands burned close and her insides suffocated and numb.

Will I be able to live this lie for the rest of my life?

“Congratulations on your betrothal,” a stoic voice drawled somewhere behind her.

Kahlan whirled around, coming face to face with the woman she wanted most and couldn’t have. Unable to force a full smile with Cara so close, she simply nodded her head.

Stay strong.

“Thank you.”

“The Lord Rahl is a good mate. The two of you will rule well.”

Stark red leather, hugging her curves. Intimidating, full armor covering her skin. Incredible soft, blonde hair draped down her back. Half-open, slight almond eyes, the piercing green dark beside the flickering torch light. The Creator herself had to have carved Cara out of the very material of life, otherwise it would be impossible to explain this kind of perfection.

“This is what I hope for,” Kahlan replied as if in a daze. She wanted to touch, to drown in the essence that was the Mord’Sith.

Stay strong.

Cara looked away, pursing her lips in contemplation. Then she stepped out of the shadows and sauntered over to the Confessor that had her hood still drawn atop the dark line of her hair.

“I guess this is what a friend should do in celebration of the proposal,” the blonde mused with a furrowed brow and came close enough that Kahlan’s breath hitched in wonder.

Cara was hugging her. It was stiff and awkward and the shock had the Mother Confessor rigid, her mouth open in honest suprise. But then the warmth of Cara’s hands flat on her shoulder blades was seeping into her skin and she closed her eyelids at the realization that the other woman’s gloves were gone again.

Her heart thundering with a glimmer of renewed life, Kahlan raised her own arms in sudden need, wrapping them around Cara’s torso and pushing her chin into the smaller woman’s neck guard. The hug was friendly and kept on for enough seconds that the blonde started to relax at the close proximity.

Stay strong.

It was when Cara started to indicate that she wanted to draw back that something in the Confessor snapped and she was unable to let go. And friendly turned to needy.

Her fingers dug into the red leather that felt like velvet under her tips. Her face buried itself into the crook of Cara’s neck and she found herself clinging to the other woman that had stopped to pull back in bewilderment.

This isn’t strength, Sisters. This is running away. This is me carrying my soul to an early grave once I’m married.

There was no odor more fetching than the one of the blonde in her arms and she wanted to breath it in forever, filling her shaking lungs with it for one sweet moment, pressing herself against those heavenly curves.

“Kahlan,” the Mord’Sith exhaled into her ear and the Confessor couldn’t help but take a step back in shame. Wondering if this was how it felt to leave a paradise behind.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Kahlan murmured, swallowing down a new bout of tears. This was inappropriate and Cara had to suffer for her lack of control. “I’m fine.” Another lie, another untruth. Somewhere along the line it failed to matter anymore.

But surprisingly feminine fingers embraced her chin and tilted her head up until gazes met.

Right now they were alone. Every second a royal pair could decide to take their leave or a stroll through the gardens. Richard or Zedd might come looking for her. The overprotective flock of guards might come rushing to see how she was doing.

Yet even if the Keeper himself would’ve appeared in the shadows surrounding them, he would’ve been powerless to cut off the pull that held the two women in its grasp.

There was a childlike kind of wonder in Cara’s searching gaze, a surprised elation at having found a treasure she hadn’t expect to stumble upon. It was like the day Kahlan had met her after the birth of the wisps and she clearly remembered the blonde’s awe at what she had experienced. Back then her mind had been focused inward, at the memory of the grotto… this time her eyes and attention were trained on Kahlan and only Kahlan.

And whoever moved first, suddenly their faces were inches apart and they shared every warm breath the other did. Kahlan tangled a strand of Cara’s wonderful long hair between her fingers and Cara gently pushed the hood from her head, gliding her hand then down her temple and to her neck.

This was the highest kind of wrong and the least perfect moment they could have ever chosen. And yet it was more unblemished, more true than any other second in time they had ever shared together.

And when Cara’s open, full lips touched her own trembling ones in a soft brush, the barest connection of skin against skin, not even the Creator’s realm was more beautiful than this. It was all Kahlan wanted and needed. It was everything.

The door to the hallway slammed open.

“Kahlan? Are you okay? I wanted to see how you’re doing,” Richard spoke into the shadowy corridor in search of his betrothed.

The Seeker had not yet spoken her name fully and Cara was standing five feet away from her as if she had never moved at all, turning her head towards the Lord Rahl with her face void of any emotion. Kahlan was still light-headed and could not tear her vision away from the attractive Mord’Sith.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled as if drugged. Her lips burned.

“Really? I don’t think so.” He quickly stepped close in worry, placing his hands on her shoulder. The touch of female fingers kept lingering at her neck and temple. “You’re flushed… and trembling. Kahlan, maybe it’s better if you end the party and go to bed.”

“Yes,” she breathed softly, not looking at him. “You’re right.”

Green and blue met across the Seeker’s back. Cara had her lips pressed together in a thin line. Kahlan almost collapsed at the ghost of this sensual, full pinkness against her own, watching with yearning as the Mord’Sith spun around and vanished in the light and glamour of the ongoing festivities.

Richard held her close, caring and faithful and unaware of what had happened, stroking her hair in an affectionate gesture. But all she could see in the darkness behind her eyelids was the blonde woman.

Was this what you meant what a friend should do? Or was it… more? It’s only going to be so much harder to stay away from you, Cara, once I dare to hope.

“Let’s go to sleep,” she whispered to him with an exhausted note, knowing that she would do anything but that this night.

Stay strong.

Part 19

They were unable to stay in the same room for long, both of them. While Kahlan kept herself busy with her duties as a ruler, Cara found a lot of things she could do that didn’t involve meeting the Mother Confessor. She even sparred a few more times with Richard, although away from prying eyes, reveling in the fact that during training she could send her Lord Rahl flat on his back without having to feel guilty for it. The gap in their abilities was astonishing, but Richard trained hard and often to get the two of them back to an equal level.

The brunette could not stand the distance for long though and cautiously knocked on the door frame to the common room Cara was lingering in.

Their eyes met for the fraction of a second. Both glanced away just as quickly.

“Cara, the Jester is coming to the city. He is quite well–known… we wanted to go and see him.”

“I already told you that I’m not fond of large masses.” The blonde was standing with her body facing the fireplace, arms folded lazily across her stomach. While the days were warm, at the beginning of autumn there had already been a few colder nights.

“We don’t have to stand between the people. The castle owns a house with a balcony that overlooks the square where the group will offer the spectacle, we will be seated there.”

Unsure how to reply, Cara rolled her shoulders.

“It’s supposed to be a really good show, the people are ecstatic. I haven’t seen it myself, but word travels fast… you might like it.”

“It’s just a jester.”

“It’s the Jester. It’s more than just tricks and bad jokes,” Kahlan corrected with a small smile. “Will you join us? Please. I’m sure it’s a nice change.”

The proximity to the Mother Confessor was equal to stabbing a knife between her ribs and twisting every time she came too close. Constantly reminding herself to not touch, not linger, not look too deep was wearing her down. And yet she was unable to say No to the pleading note in the brunette’s voice, the sound reminding her remotely of a whining blonde kid.

“Fine. With you up there on the balcony for everyone to see it’s better if I take care of your security.”

She could feel the happy gaze of Kahlan burn off the skin on her back. Why was she always getting herself in these stupid situations?

At least now I know where Noa inherited the ability.

And so, three days later at the beginning of a well–tempered evening, she found herself walking alongside the engaged pair, who in turn marched after the wizard that led the way. The Seeker and his soon–to–be wife were loosely holding hands, the Mord’Sith trying to focus on all other things but the linked fingers near her. Kahlan looked decidedly weary whenever Richard was turned away from her.

The balcony was wide and created in a half–circle, perfect for viewing the happenings down below on the square and giving them the chance to see what the group of entertainers had erected there.

In the middle, built atop the cobble stones, was a large wooden structure about as high as a small house. It was a tower with a big, fence–less platform at the peak, one large tree trunk attached to every corner of the flat top. Where the actual boundary of the platform should have been, there were four large bowls lying on the wooden planks, one at every side of the quadrangle. Even the wood itself had a strange, shiny gleam to it.

Exited, wondrous shreds of conversation found their way to the balcony, the whole place filled with people poor and rich, all classes mingling down there together in their excitement.

“What is this?” Cara asked with a frown, trying to make sense of the strange contraption on the square. Around the base of the tower was another small, heightened platform, filled with a group that appeared to be the musicians.

“I have no idea,” Zedd answered with a jolly smile, “but I can’t wait to find out. Their motto is that all of it works without magic.”

“And I’m sure you’re quite interested to see if that’s true,” Richard said with a laugh.

“Indeed I am! But of course I’m also interested in the show itself.”

“Hush, you two, it’s beginning!” Kahlan shushed them, her gaze captured by the starting play. They all turned to watch with curiosity.

A tall, bearded man at the best age, dressed in simple peasant clothes but groomed and with his salt–and–pepper hair neatly trimmed, stepped on the lower platform and spread his arms. He rounded the tower once, then vanished inside the structure and reappeared on the peak between the large trunks, holding up his hands to shush the whispering audience.

“My dearest ladies and gentlemen, children and elders, that you all came today to witness our spectacle. I am Sabir, the head of our group. Some of you may have seen us before and to some this may be a wondrous new experience, yet I hope we can capture your attention for this night and have you go home with the spark of astonishment gleaming in your hearts. What we do is neither magic nor trick, but it will keep your jaws dropped in awe and your hands busy with clapping until your arms grow weak! I present to you… the Blazing Carnival!”

The crowd erupted into cheers and hollers, thrill and excitement spreading among the watchers.

“Is he the Jester?” Richard wondered out loud.

“I doubt it, my son. The Jester is masked and the highlight of the show, so I believe he will come last.”

“Shhh,” both women made in annoyance, seated on both sides of Richard. The men quickly snapped their mouths shut.

The show began with Sabir telling stories that warmed the people up and had everyone laughing quite soon. The man, with his fatherly looks and twinkling eyes, drew them in with his captivating, dark voice, intoning and pronouncing the words just the right way to have all observers waiting for the next syllable he uttered. His constant change of accents had the group on the balcony in stitches and even Cara found herself cracking an amused smile or two at his talent of comedy and imitation. Especially his spot–on and yet exaggerated portrayal of Darken Rahl.

Let’s hope the Lord Rahl never gets to see this, or this man will have a very painful ending.

At the end of his part he bowed towards the crowd, lowering his upper body extra deep when turned into the Mother Confessor’s direction. Kahlan applauded him with a wide smile.

It went on in this way, several mimes hogging the stage next, followed by a few actors, artists and then a set of dancers spread on both platforms. The firelight and music emphasized their smooth moves in a wonderful way and painted the pictures of a beautiful story. All occupants of the Blazing Carnival were masters of their talent, dressed in colorful, captivating clothes.

Soon one hour was gone and the people were beside themselves with joy, clapping and shouting after every part. Cara had to admit that she enjoyed herself. An easy–going, impressive spectacle as this wouldn’t have been possible under the iron rule of Darken Rahl, with the performers constantly having to fear for their lives if the Lord wasn’t impressed with their show. She shared a look with the Mother Confessor, with Kahlan smirking at her obvious interest and Cara rolling her eyes in return.

A drum roll on the lower platform attracted their attention and she saw Sabir taking the upper stage once again. He always appeared between the different attractions, telling a short fairy tale connected to what was happening next and converting the whole show into a colorful story that seemed to jump from the pages of a thrilling book.

“Behold, watchers,” he began in his haunting tone. “And listen to my words. There is the tale of a bird, a fox and a dolphin that yearned to get to know the realm of the other. It was the bird that always flew over the waves of the ocean, wondering how it would feel to dance with the waves and swim into depths that no flying creature had ever gone to before.” Several masked actors chirped and ran around the lower part, the musicians beginning a sad, melancholic melody that conveyed the bird’s yearning.

“The fox always glanced into the heaven, dreaming about the possibility of having the wind rush under its arms and twirling so high in the sky that you could touch the deepest blue.” Fox dancers appeared, seamlessly taking over from the birds, moving differently than the others.

“And the dolphin gazed towards the dry land, imagining how it would be to run between the trees and over the grass of the earth with its own feet digging into the soil.” Here the blue dressed actors hogged the stage, their dance moves gliding and light, as if swimming through the air.

“The Creator took pity on these three poor souls, gathering them in her arms and placing their spirits into one single being in the hope that they could experience all the different realms together: The wind in the highest jump, the ground in the quickest run and the water in the deepest swim. And this being she forged with the fire of life, placing it in our world until it found its way into our midst.” All dancers know found themselves together, swirling and moving about in joyous companionship, their bright colors merging together with the quick movements and the bright firelight. Then they disappeared at the songs crescendo and the last rolling drum, leaving behind emptiness.

Fire crackling was the only sound in the tension–filled atmosphere. All minds were riveted to the man’s every word.

“And with this I give to you… the Jester!”

Sabir vanished in the tower as the crowd erupted into cheers. Back into action, the drums started a slow beat as a masked figure made its way up onto the higher platform – on its hands.

Cara shot out of her seat, her heart beating triple time. But then she took a closer look and the elation left her veins.

“Cara?” Kahlan asked carefully, watching the shock fade from the blonde’s features.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, sitting back down. For a moment she had seen Noa in front of her, the kid tumbling around the grass in a similar way. But the performer’s height was wrong and the short–cropped, spiky hair didn’t have the right color. It was a muddy red instead of the honey blonde she had wanted to see.

Yet it was impossible to deny that the Jester was a tumbler of the highest order. ‘It’ jumped around dressed in a tight, colorful suit with bare feet and naked arms, the faceless mask and clothing letting the performer appear genderless. With the drum’s beat getting faster at a steady rhythm, the figure on the stage seemed to warm up with every thump of the instrument.

A short while later all four watched with their mouths open in amazement as the Jester jumped and pivoted around, pushing itself of the large trunks in impossible twists and turns of its body with a speed and agility that was unmatched by the other performers by far. It crawled up the beams with ease, almost flying through the air with several somersaults, then hugging all appendages close to its frame and spinning around as if gravity was only a few meaningless letters in a dictionary.

The whole show became more upbeat when the drums were accompanied by the other instruments and soon the tumbling and reckless stunts were joined by the flowing movements of dancing, combining everything into a crescendo of impossible motion. The undressed arms of the Jester gleamed red in the torchlight, like the fire of life that was supposed to burn in its limbs.

“No magic,” Zedd mumbled in breathless awe.

“Noa would have loved this,” Cara simply added in respect at this amount of body control.

And then the stage caught fire.

At first screams erupted in the crowd, but the Jester flicked itself to the edge of the platform with several handsprings, spreading its arm and legs in a calm motion to show that everything was fine. Slowly the people got quiet again, watching as the large bowls on the top burned with controlled flames once the kindling was eaten away by the sudden heat.

But it didn’t stop there. One of the fox performers below threw two wooden sticks up the stage, the Jester catching them in both hands and then teaching the onlookers why the whole thing was called the Blazing Carnival.

Within seconds the whole upper platform burned, the fire laid with the two sticks the Jester still twirled in its hand as if something like this happened every day. Ohs and Ahs were raising in the square, the heat high enough that no one below got burned by the hungry flames. Yet the temperature up there where the tumbler stood had to be unbearable, but instead of jumping down it began twirling again, easily evading the red–hot tongues that licked at the wood.

Yet even with the whole tower drenched in burn delaying fluids, soon all of it went up in flames and even the Jester had no place to jump to that was not covered in orange heat. So it just cartwheeled around the whole platform, jumped into the middle and let itself get covered from head to toe in the fire before running to the platform’s end, body alight with the flames, everyone gasping in open shock at this madness.

All onlookers were at the edge of their seat with wonderment.

“And all of it,” the figure screamed while ripping the mask from its face, “without magic!”

Cara felt her stomach roll and she grabbed at the railing to keep herself from falling over in complete shock. This wasn’t humanly possible.

It was Noa.

The burning girl jumped high in the air, twirling her body unbelievably fast and then spreading her arms wide while plunging down several meters into a big basin filled to the brim with water. There was a hiss of smoke and Noa crawled back out, hair plastered to her joyous face, while the square itself screamed and shouted in rapt fascination at the incredible display.

The Mord’Sith didn’t stay to watch the end of the magnificent show, instead leaning over the balcony and shouting her daughter’s name one time so loud and clear over the noise that the girl looked upwards with a confused face and then a sudden revelation in her eyes, before Cara swirled around and ran down the stairs at the highest speed, taking three steps at a time. At the edge of her mind she saw a shocked Richard and Zedd stare at her, while Kahlan jumped up and followed.

She tore her way through the crowd once she had exited the house. People were pushed left and right without care, but the spectators were all busy talking and chatting about the amazing show while the performers and staff of the Blazing Carnival were occupied with trying to get their fiery highlight back under control with water and sand.

At least half of the way she saw a wet figure slink desperately between the citizens towards her. Three merciless pushes later she stood face to face with her daughter that was supposed to have died on Dazrodha.

She had to be dreaming. And if she was, she never wanted to wake up again. Period.

“You’re… alive,” Cara could only gasp in astonishment when the smiling girl stood in front of her almost like the day she had seen her last.

“It’s a long story,” Noa said with a sheepish smile, the joy of seeing Cara making her bi–colored eyes sparkle and her face shine so bright, that the Mord’Sith would burn this image into her memory forever. The girl would never be so happy for anyone but her.

Cara accepted the words without questioning, taking two quick steps forward and pressing Noa’s forehead against her collarbone while she buried her nose in the wet hair, just experiencing, breathing, touching. Feeling how a part of herself came back to life.

For long minutes they stood like that, not quite hugging but filled with unmatched relief and happiness. Keeping her eyes closed, the Mord’Sith struggled for composure, not drawing in another deeper breath until she had battled the threatening tears down.

Thank you, Creator. My true home came back to me.

“You stink,” she prompted then with a dangerously cracking voice, looking down at the heat reddened skin of the young one’s face. “Like a whole army of campfires.”

“That comes with the job,” Noa laughed, wiping away the happy tears from her cheeks. The foxy grin was just like she remembered it, but the girl had changed notably. She was taller and sinewy like an athlete, although just as scrawny as ever. Her hair had been cut short and dyed, but there were two or three thin braids that Cara spotted pinned behind the girl’s ears.

And there was a distinct scar on the skin of her face, beginning at the left side of her nose and ending in a curved sweep where her cheekbone began. Dragging her gloved thumb over it, Cara remembered the blood clinging to the young face while the portal to Dazra closed before her eyes.

Never again.

“A little good–bye gift from the Apothics,” the girl explained softly, seeing the anger rise in the older blonde’s features.

“What’s with the hair color?” Cara asked, trying to get her mind off that horrible day. Noa was alive and well before her, that was all that counted right now. The how and why could be explained later. Now all she wanted was hear the girl talk, to confirm that this wasn’t just a dream and she would wake up in the nightmare of reality any moment.

“Oh, that,” Noa exclaimed, touching a hand to her unruly strands. “It’s just a herb mixture I wash my hair with, to keep it from catching fire so easily. It’s based on the same foundation I smear on my skin and clothes. It catches flame on the outer side but keeps me from getting burned for a few moments when I set myself on fire,” she explained with vigor.

“Hey Jester! No spilling of our craft secrets,” a good–natured Sabir chastised her, emerging from a flock of observers. Behind him a lanky, young man appeared, grinning at the girl with familiarity.

Cara’s hand on Noa’s shoulder stiffened and the blonde turned redhead sensed the danger and quickly pointed to the two men. “Cara, this is my boss Sabir and my friend Zane. They took good care of me in the Carnival.”

“I need to talk to you,” the Mord’Sith said towards her child. “Preferably alone.” A look over her shoulder told her that Kahlan and the two men were waiting a few feet away, the guards they had taken with them keeping nosy onlookers from snatching up what the small group was talking about. Seeing that Cara was ready to move, the Mother Confessor hastened forward and enveloped the surprised girl in her arms.

“Oh Noa, I’m so glad that you’re okay!” The Confessor’s voice was laced with relieved tears of her own.

Cara had to swallow a smile at the utterly puzzled look on Noa’s features at the tight hug. “Uhm… well, thanks.”

“How did you survive? What happened after we were gone?” Kahlan raised herself up, then blinked at the curious glance of the kid. “Is it just me or did you grow older?”

“As I said, it’s a long story.”

“One we can perfectly tell away from the eyes and ears of those that shouldn’t be privy to personal matters. How about if we all walk over to our tent and wagons? It seems like it’s closer than the castle, your highness,” Sabir interjected smoothly, pointing to said spot in the distance.

Kahlan nodded, waving Richard and Zedd over. “It seems like just as good a place as any. Let’s go.”

The whole group moved towards the tents. Cara and Noa walked so close together they might as well be joined at the hip and everyone understood that no one would be able to keep them apart for the next time.

Especially with one part of the pair being an intimidating Mord’Sith turned mother.

* * * * *

“You’ve been here since over one year?!” Cara asked incredulously. She wiped around to Zedd. “How is that supposed to work?”

The wizard was scratching his chin and appeared deep in thought, so the Mord’Sith turned back to Noa, who was downing her third mug of water. Here in the lamp light of the tent it was visible that she was covered in black spots and that the edge of her pants leg was burned away.

“It’s probably due to the time discrepancy between Dazrodha and the Midlands…” Zedd mumbled out loud.

“Once I jumped through the portal, I fell out in a wood, but was unable to move. I was badly injured… Zane found me and carried me to the Circus.”

“Her wounds haven’t been fatal, thank the Creator for that,” Sabir added from the side. “And once she had recovered and stopped being confused about where she was, I saw her talent and asked her if she wanted to join our group.”

“And got her to set herself on fire,” Cara growled.

Noa raised a sheepish hand. “Actually, that was my idea.”

The older blonde groaned. Of course it was. “And then? You were in D’Hara, why didn’t you come to me?”

Fiddling with the wooden vessel, Noa shrugged her shoulders. “No one I asked knew a Kahlan Amnell or a Cara Mason and the Circus was the only place I knew. I was a stranger in an unknown world. Darken Rahl was still in power. Then the cracks in the veil appeared and I realized you wouldn’t recognize me… at least not yet. Although once I knew that, I did try to seek you out in the temple near Arongard.”

“I don’t remember seeing you there…” Cara wondered out loud, trying to think back to that time.

“You didn’t. You were busy dealing with Triana’s treason.”

The four that had closed the veil looked at a big–eyed Noa with open mouths. She blinked in unease. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“How do you know about that?” Kahlan asked with honest surprise. All of that happened around the time when they had found Cara and gotten her to join their quest.

The girl liked her lips nervously. “You told me about what happened, back on Darza… what would happen eventually. And I got scared you might not make it to your friends, so I… well, meddled. I had to at least see you from afar.”

Cara bore her eyes into those of her daughter. “How?”

“I…eh, may have told Triana where the screeling was… and I might have used a thrown stone to point out where you were lying to the D’Haran soldiers that accompanied Richard…?”

“You’re the reason we stumbled over Cara’s body,” Richard concluded with astonishment.

Zedd slowly walked up and down the tent’s length, holding up a finger. “All of it was predetermined. Noa only did what fate wrote down, by refusing to meet us early and helping what was destined to come along.” He shook his head in wonder. “Lady Fate is indeed a wondrous creature. If the girl had joined us, the consequences on history would have been dire.” The older man turned again, looking at Noa with a strange spark in his eyes.

“Cara, would you mind if I talked to Noa alone for a moment?”

“No. But I need to tell her something first…” Cara was uncomfortably aware of the several gazes that rested on her. Kahlan threw her an encouraging smile. “Let’s go outside,” she decided and child, Mord’Sith and wizard left through the tent flap.

Warm night air greeted them, the embers of the burned tower still glimmering in the distance. The performers of the Blazing Carnival were still partying the night away now that their job was done and the noise surrounding them offered a good diversion to their conversation. Zedd waited near the entrance while Cara and Noa rounded the corner.

“It’s so great that I found you,” the girl burst out the second they were gone from view, “or better, that you found me. I didn’t know where to look after you went on your quest, so I thought the best idea was to travel from city to city and play. When we were near Aydindril, someone told me that Kahlan Amnell was the ruler here and I hoped you would be near her.”

Cara smiled at the ecstatic young blond. She had grown a lot, now nearly the same height as Cara’s chin. A few more years and she would be tall enough to look down on her elder. A feeling of pride swelled in her insides at the memory of the show Noa had performed.

“You’ve become better.”

“I trained every day, just like you told me. I wanted you to see the progress I made once I found you,” she proclaimed in her usual scratchy voice, the need to make Cara proud still evident in it. That was one thing that hadn’t changed since the last time.

“Noa,” Cara exclaimed, pressing her hands on the younger blonde’s shoulders with a deep breath. “We know about your heritage. Zedd found out about it.”

Noa glanced away, suddenly shy and uninterested. “Oh.” She shifted her stance. “I see.”

It made the Mord’Sith happy to see that her daughter rather stayed oblivious to her true parents as long as she was with Cara. Boy, will she be in for a surprise.

Taking away one hand to fiddle the flower out of a pocket at her belt, she held it in front of the girl’s face, watching green and blue catch on to it with a gasp. How could I not see it? Those are ‘my’ eyes I looked into for four years.

“My flower!”

She caught the smaller ones gaze.

“You’re my daughter, Noa. I’m your mother. And this is what led us to the truth.”

After a long moment of bone deep shock, two tanned, soot–covered arms grabbed her middle and pressed close. And suddenly everything was different and right and Cara hugged her daughter back for all it was worth. It was this connection that she had missed terribly and it was as if a large part of herself had come and found its way back into her being, making her whole again.

“I… always…I hoped,” Noa sobbed against her leather, “…it… that it would be true.”

“It’s fine,” Cara soothed, stroking her hand across the girl’s head. “Get a hold of yourself,” she added softly with what was typical Mord’Sith affection.

“All– all right.” Noa stepped back and cleaned her teary cheeks with the hem of her multicolored neck–holder, smearing the dark spots on her face even worse. If there was any way for the girl to shine brighter, the sun itself would get immense competition.

Taking a step backwards, the older blonde looked across the corner. “Zedd!” The wizard looked up and came closer while she turned towards the tent entrance. “Hurry up with your questioning.”

“It will only take a minute,” he replied with a smile, gazing towards where the tumbler stood, a wary and sceptic aura around her once he came close. Definitely Cara’s daughter.

“So you’re a wizard?” was the last thing the Mord’Sith heard before joining the others again, who waited with eager expectancy. They sat perched like tense dogs that could hardly wait for their owner to bring them tasty treats. Cara guessed good news were the equivalent to a meaty bone for them.

“How did it go?” Kahlan asked once Cara was fully inside, quickly standing up and stepping towards her, her blue eyes shining with giddy curiosity.

“How do you think it went,” Cara retorted dryly, but was hardly able to hide the permanent smile that was etched into her features. The quirk of her lips had Kahlan grin in return and soon the blonde found herself enveloped in the second hug that day, savoring it like a rare treasure.

They were the only two people whose touches she welcomed more than the intense pain of her Agiels.

“So that’s your kid? What she showed on the stage was incredible,” Richard threw in from behind Kahlan after the two women had parted. He was nearly just as happy for her as Kahlan. “But I mean… with that mother. Who’d expect something less.”

Cara had to smirk at his wink and looked down to the ground flattered and in a rare, shy emotion.

“So there’s two of you now that will kick my backside in a fight, huh?” he added, scrunching up his face.

“Ah, my poor Seeker. Woe is you,” Kahlan pitied him, stroking his smooth cheek with the back of her fingers. In the background there was a snort from Zane.

“You’ll just have to train harder.” Cara raised her eyebrows at him and received a sigh in return.

“If I may interrupt… I guess that’s going to be the end of Noa’s membership with the Blazing Carnival?” Sabir stood to the side, arms casually crossed. It didn’t appear as if he was very angry at the prospect, the middle–aged man simply seemed relieved that his young underling was going to be in good hands. Zane on the other hand was taking it harder.

“Does that mean she’ll stay here? In Aydindril?” The young man looked crestfallen.

“I sincerely doubt that she will want to be anywhere that Cara isn’t,” Kahlan tried to make him understand in her calm voice.

“There’s no way I’m going to leave her out of my sight again,” Cara grumbled with a frown.

Sabir stroked burly hands through his trimmed beard, nodding silently along. He watched Zane out of the corner of his vision, who didn’t seem to notice it, as he was busy gnashing his teeth.

“You’re not very happy with that, aren’t you, my boy?” he finally said to the younger man.

Zane scratched his shoulder uncomfortably, clearly noting this time that the Mord’Sith was watching him with squinted eyes and the promise of certain doom. “She reminds me of my kid sister. I swear, Mistress Cara, I’m not into children or anything! Marelle died during the war and… it was nice this year to have something like a little sister again.” He placed both hands on his hips, gaze dropped to the ground. “She’s my closest friend.”

“If that’s the case, why don’t you just stay here? I’m sure the Mother Confessor can use another pair of young, strong hands willing to work for her.”

Zane blinked. “Whu?…”

Kahlan was just as dumbfounded. “Uh, Master Sabir… it’s a nice offer, but…”

He waved her beginning refusal away, slapping his hand heartily on a wincing Zane’s back. Sabir winked at her, smiling fetchingly. “Oh, you say that now, but wait until you see him in action! He’s my best musician, if maybe a bit deaf on the ears sometimes when it comes to orders. Yet you will find no better festival organizer and talker, believe me.”

“Well,” Kahlan murmured with a glance at Cara, who kept herself out of this. “Maybe it’s not the worst idea to have a friend of Noa nearby. There aren’t many children her age in the castle.”

“I’m not exactly thirteen anymore,” Zane huffed, slightly offended. He had to be around twenty.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I wanted to imply. It’s just… I’m sure she might get lonely.” The brunette waited for Cara’s half–shrugged approval, before turning back to the two men with a smile. “All right, Zane can come with us to the castle. I’m sure a good musician is never a bad addition.”

“He can be Noa’s servant,” Cara added from the side. Four raised eyebrows turned towards her. “What? He could!”

“I’m sure we can deal with that later,” Richard tried to divert with a nervous grin, when the tent entrance flapped open and the two missing people came back inside.

Zedd looked thoughtful, while Noa bounded towards them with a bright smile. Kahlan turned back towards Sabir.

“As it is starting to get late, I think we’ll better go back to the castle. But I would be honored if you stayed for another few days, so that Noa and Zane can properly say good–bye to you. You could join us for dinner tomorrow.”

“He’s staying too?” Noa was surprised, but quickly ran over and high fived her friend with a grin. “That’s so great!” she added, boxing him into the shoulder.

“How can I not accept the invitation of the Mother Confessor herself? Of course I would love to dine with you and see off the two rug rats.” Sabir bowed with flourish and a likeable friendliness that had everyone smile in return.

“Then it’s set. Let’s move back, have a good evening, Master Sabir. Noa, Zane? You should get your things.”

Everyone bid their goodbye more or less vocal and they ventured outside once the two newcomers had packed, the loyal guards quickly setting themselves again at the front and back of the small group. Accompanied by the merry festival noises that droned out of every tent and from around the big camp fires, they marched on, first back into the city across the square and then towards their destination.

Once they stepped into the entry hall, the two performers stopped moving with open mouths, glancing around the room.

“Damn, I’m really in the halls of the ruler of the Midlands,” Zane mumbled in complete awe. “…hey Noa, hit me. I think I’m dreaming.”

The girl complied distractedly with the back of her hand and he yelped, rubbing his bruised ribs. “Or… maybe not.”

“Get going, you fools,” Cara ordered with her hands poised on her hips.

They traveled upward into a common room and that was when Zedd turned towards them with a contemplative, imploring gaze.

“I know that it is quite late, but I would like you all to wait here for a while. There is something I have to do and if I’m done, I need to inform you.” With that he vanished in the direction of his rooms, leaving five puzzled people standing and looking after him.

“Is he always like that?” Zane wondered out loud.

“I fear so,” Richard replied with a crooked smile.

“Well, in that case… let’s get comfortable,” Kahlan said with a shrug and sat down on the couch, joined soon by Richard. Cara stayed up, while Noa and Zane started a mock–fight in the back of the room.

“Hey, Mom,” Noa piped up from where she wrestled with the young man, now easily falling back into calling her that, “you have to know my dad too, right?”

Cara stiffened. The two on the couch send her a sympathetic look.

“I knew…” Zane gasped from where the girl held him in a head–lock, “that Sabir… was bullshitting me… with the Creator… stuff…”

“Sabir was bullshitting you whenever he talked to you,” Noa added with an amused look. Zane grumbled in return.

“Your father… is Darken Rahl. The ruler of D’Hara.”

Zane fell to the floor with a thud. His gray eyes looked first at Cara, then at Noa, who was staring at Cara with shock. “You’re kidding me,” they both said in unison.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Actually, you never look like your kidding,” Noa half–grinned, rubbing her neck and sitting down on the table near the herd while Zane picked himself up from the ground, quickly arranging the long hair that had gone into disarray.

Cara frowned at her daughter. “Actually, while we’re waiting, it’s a good idea to get you cleaned up. The red hair needs to go.”

And so the two blondes left the room, leaving an awkward Zane to deal with the Mother Confessor and Seeker, who worked him into an easy small–talk. The young man was smart and had a quick mouth, which only started to show after he overcame his intimidation with being surrounded by two of the most important people in all of the Midlands.

While Noa scrubbed herself with the cold water of the basin in Cara’s room, her mother could see all the small scars on her body. The Apothics had mangled her quite good and the girl also told that after a few tries she had nailed down quickly how long it took not to get scorched by the flames she covered herself in. That didn’t change the fact that she had at least three or four recently healed but still angry red burn marks on her skin.

“I guess I’m not going to met my father quite soon?” Noa cautiously suspected when covered in a big towel engulfing her body at least twice.

“It’s better if he never finds out about your existence,” Cara said in return without looking her in the eyes. “It’s not going to end well for anyone.”

The now back to honey blonde kid nodded. She was fine with knowing the truth and being with Cara, that was all that counted.

“So you want Zane to stay? He doesn’t look like much of a … fighter,” Cara quickly corrected herself, not wanting to say the word that really lingered on her tongue.

“Nah, he isn’t. He’s more of a talker, really. Sometimes he’s a bit annoying because he loves talking about himself and get’s into trouble, but he’s an amazing actor and a wonderful musician… and my best friend. He’s the one that took care of me when I came into the Carnival.”

Then I guess I have to thank him for that, Cara thought with chagrin and handed Noa her clothes. Since they didn’t have any spare ones at the moment, as the girl hadn’t brought some with her mind scattered all over the place again, Noa had to dress in her old ones which reeked of smoke and coals, but at least the red substance in her hair and on her skin was gone.

Zedd wasn’t back yet when they joined the others. The Mord’Sith furrowed her brows when she saw Kahlan laugh at something the young man had told, adorning his words with exasperated gestures. By now it had to be past midnight.

“Back from the bath, you two?” Kahlan greeted them with a bright smile, catching Cara’s eye. The two women looked at each other, into each other, for a long heartbeat, then turned away.

Noa inclined her head at that, but then stretched and nodded. “Yep, I’m more or less clean.”

“Say,” the brunette went on, standing up and walking towards them, “what is it that Zedd asked you about that has him so edgy?”

“Actually, I only told him how–…”

Everyone turned when the door slammed open and Zedd came back with a look on his face that couldn’t exactly be described as grave, but went in that direction. He had a bowl in his hands that he placed on the table.

“All right, my dear friends. I don’t know how you can overlook something that basically jumps in your face, but I guess it is my job to set these things right. Cara, you remember I confirmed that you are Noa’s biological mother.”

“Yes. It is quite hard to forget that day,” Cara snapped, but cooled down at Kahlan’s soft fingers on her shoulder.

Zedd snatched a white granite stone from the bowl, a bright, red splotch on its front. He presented it as if that inanimate object told them all answers in the world.

Zane was the only one that dared to state the obvious with a raised eyebrow. “Wicked. A stone with a smudge.”

“This stone, foolish young man,” Zedd lectured in his direction, “was made with a hair of Richard’s head to confirm Noa’s heritage in the Rahl family. As he is the half–brother of Darken Rahl, he should be the girl’s half–uncle.”

“You stole my hair?!” Richard blurted out in bafflement.

“Yeah, well, wonderful. So we confirmed everything, can we go to bed now? This is useless.” Cara crossed her arms in annoyance.

“Just that it isn’t, my dear Cara.” Zedd held up another white stone, this one had a splotch so dark blue it was nearly black.

“Neat, can you dye clothes with that?” Noa asked good–naturedly, oblivious to the fall of the wizard’s face.

“Yes, I mean, no, I… stop interrupting me!” He took a deep breath and rubbed his brow. “This is serious, everyone. Family relations to the person turn the color on the stone blue. The stronger the relation, the darker the stone. This stone here,” he indicated the blue–black stone in his left hand, “is Cara’s stone. This is how I found out that she is Noa’s mother.”

“You stole my hair, too?!” Cara burst out in anger, fuming and seething in silence when Kahlan grabbed her shoulder tighter and patted her arm in addition with a soft “There, there.”

“Wait, stop… that means Noa isn’t related to me. Which means, she isn’t Darken’s daughter?” Richard wisely concluded, causing all of them to pause in confusion.

Zedd nodded slowly. “You’re right, she isn’t. Darken Rahl is not Noa’s father.” He held up a third stone. This one again was just as blackish as Cara’s stone had been. “This one is.”

“Who is?” Noa quietly asked with both eyes opened wide.

Zedd’s head turned to another person in the room. He was unsure if to smile or to frown.

“This one was made with your hair… Kahlan.”

The room was more silent than the stones. Only the fire crackled on merrily in the herd, undisturbed by the shock and astonishment that filled the walls once everyone became aware of what that meant.

Kahlan did the only sensible thing in this situation.

She fainted.

Part 20

When Kahlan felt reality return to her, it was with huge sense of confusion and displacement. Where was she? And why was she lying down?

The softness beneath her back felt like carpet, fending of most of the chill that the cold stone floor emitted even when covered. While she still felt a trace of weakness, her instincts told her she was safe. There was no need to panic.

Blinking her eyes open, she found herself face to face with her fiance once the blurriness became solid.

“Richard…?” she mumbled disoriented. “Why am I lying on the floor?”

“Do you feel okay?” She nodded softly at his question and he relaxed, finding her eyes again. “You don’t remember what happened? What Zedd told us?”

They were alone in the room, so much she could tell. Rummaging through her memories, she tried to remember what the last thing had been that had occurred before blackening out.

The Mother Confessor remembered the castle. She remembered walking with Richard, Cara and oh, there was the girl, of course, Noa. They had been in the common room, talking. She remembered that Zane was quite an amusing storyteller. And then, yes, Zedd had come back, talking, explaining something and… oh. Oh, yes.

Kahlan tried not to faint again, as she felt herself grow dizzy. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Richard confirmed with a small smile. He gently pulled her upper body on his knees, stroking her hair. “That was… quite a shock.”

“I wonder… I don’t… this is so confusing.” Finding solace in the warm strength beneath her head, she took a deep breath. “I can’t imagine how…”

Richard kept quiet while she ordered her thoughts. She tried to make sense of what Zedd had said and then there was the image of Cara’s wide cyan eyes, almost pale yellow in the firelight. It would’ve been funny to see the Mord’Sith so flabbergasted if it wasn’t so completely crazy.

Noa. Her daughter. She had a daughter.

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered to herself in awe, her eyes filling with tears at this wonder.

“Now that Zedd said it… what I can’t believe is how we didn’t see it. It was so obvious… her smile, her features… they are so much like your own.” He drifted a callused finger down her cheek in thought. “For people that are supposed to see the truth we were amazingly blind to it,” the Seeker added with a smile.

Unable to help a chuckle pass her lips, Kahlan reached up and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for catching me.”

“Actually, Cara got you first, she was closer. Creator’s Breath… a kid with Cara, you really went all out, didn’t you?”

Although it was spoken in jest, Kahlan blinked, feeling a lump form in her throat. Cara. Noa. Good gracious, what does that mean? Cara and I have a daughter. We have a child. Kahlan tore her gaze away from his with a gulp, trying to make sense of where they were and keeping herself from slipping deeper into these thoughts in the arms of the man she was supposed to marry.

She still wondered if it had been a good idea to say Yes to his question, but all pointed in that direction. Everyone loved and trusted the Seeker and if the people knew she was marrying him, the people of the Midlands would feel a lot safer and calmer after so many years of war. Even the nobility would openly refrain from scratching at her throne with him at her side. It was a political masterstroke to choose Richard as her husband.

And she knew she could have been happy with him, even gladly have his children once he found a way around Shota’s warning, if it wasn’t for the blonde Mord’Sith in their midst.

But Richard loved her, truly and unmistakably. It had to be enough. Maybe it would get easier once the years passed.

“…Where are the others?”

“In another room. Zedd and Zane stayed with them, trying to find answers.”

“How are they?” Kahlan asked softly, wondering if they were just as beside themselves as she was. I’m in shock. Might not be the worst state to be in at the moment.

“Well… Cara is Cara. Brooding, stoic, pursing her lips and all that. You know.” They shared a small grin.

“And… Noa?”

“She’s having a small panic attack. It’s not every day that you find out that both your parents are women.”

Kahlan closed her eyes and thought of the young girl. Of the time they had spent on Dazrodha. She had been so jealous then of the younger blonde, and Creator, did she feel foolish for that now. It had been such a petty, vile emotion, now that she knew what Noa… what her daughter – she nearly fainted again – had gone through until meeting the Mord’Sith.

The full implications of this revelation still slipped through her fingers.

“Was I out for long?”

Richard tilted his head towards the window, checking the time. “About half an hour, maybe longer. You should keep lying down for a while, though, you’re still pale as a sheet. It’s better if we get used to all that happened today.”

Too exhausted to argue with that logic, she felt her lids drop again, but not from tiredness. There were so many things she had to think about. And she wanted to do it with the image of Cara in her mind.

We have a daughter.

* * * * *

“Ohdearohdearohdearohdearohdear–…”

“Oh, for the love of… kid! Snap out of it!”

Noa swallowed her next words in surprise, trying to get her agitation under control. She had been moving in small, quick circles, just as white as her unconscious mother had been before Richard had carried her out of the room. The girl looked just as ready to drop to the floor.

Cara sighed, relieved that the kid had stopped. Her own shock was still bone–deep, but it appeared as if she, Zedd and Richard were the only ones that could handle it better. Zane was still sitting numbly on the couch, totally in over his head with all that had occurred and too much of a stranger to do anything to ease the situation.

Cara pinched the bridge of her nose.

We have a daughter?! How did that… when could it… Spirits, you’re taunting me.

“Can someone explain to me how the heck it’s possible that two women can have children these days? Without them knowing? Did I forgot to listen in biology class or what?” the young man burst out in confusion, both hands placed atop his head.

“I have to admit that not even I am quite sure how that might have happened… I just know that it is the truth. I rechecked the spell two times.” Zedd was obviously trying to make sense of it. “And that Noa was able to use the portal stone that had imprinted on Kahlan to get to this world was the most obvious evidence.”

Cara groaned and rubbed her temple. Not only did she get her daughter back… no, as the fates would have it, she would find out that the other parent had to be the woman she felt drawn to like no other. Figures. At least they didn’t have to worry about Darken Rahl anymore.

How could she have been so blind? It was… it was blatant! More than a slap in the face! No wonder that she had been reminded of someone when she looked at the girl, there were so many hints… It seemed as if she hadn’t wanted to see the truth than ran around like crazy in front of her.

Literally.

“Stop moving, damn it! You’re driving me crazy with your circling!”

“But I can’t sit still,” Noa whined back and bit her lip, staying jittery on the spot she had paused on. Her eyes darted left and right – a blue and a green one, perfect mirrors of Cara’s and Kahlan’s colors, was she retarded to miss this?! – and the image snapped a memory into her head that had her frozen.

But… of course. More memories clinked into place, and suddenly there were so many events that made sense now. There was so much that made sense now!

“Zane. Zedd. Out.”

“But–…”

“Out. Now,” she growled at the wizard and survival instincts made him move in an instant.

“Come, my boy, I’m sure they have a lot to talk about. You can help me search some books while we wait.”

They hurriedly left through another door and the Mord’Sith started pacing along the floor, flexing her hands like an anxious panther. The dangerous gleam in her eyes had Noa slink back to the herd with her agitation gone, replaced by guarded apprehension.

“You lied to me!” Cara finally hissed at her daughter.

Indignant, Noa set her shoulders. “I never–…”

“I’m talking about the moment we opened the portal back home, remember? And about everything else: Yes, you didn’t tell me, which may count to you as not outright lying. You kept it hidden. Even though I was your most trusted person you didn’t even once think to explain to me what else happened in Srath?” she growled, slinking nearer to a trembling Noa.

The girl’s gaze focused on the flickering flames. Her lips were tightly pressed together and she looked somewhere in between wanting to cry or shout. It appeared that Cara was hitting a well hidden nerve.

Cara realized what Noa was trying to do when she stopped moving even an inch, not even blinking. Her instincts told her to hide, to be still, to vanish and be overlooked.

“Don’t you dare keep quiet now. This is way bigger than you or me. And it doesn’t make you a bad person, whatever you might think.”

“But… that’s the problem. They believed I was vile!” Noa suddenly burst out in despair. “When they beat me all those years, I saw truth in their eyes. How can you trust in yourself to be something good, to expect someone else to believe it, when the whole world around you doesn’t? How?”

Cara resumed her pacing, rubbing her face with gloved hands when all the puzzle pieces started to show themselves.

“The day I found you, you weren’t afraid of me just because I was another human being. You couldn’t read me, that had you on edge. You didn’t know what to expect and that worried you.” Her words were spilling forth faster now. “That was why you were so daring with the citizens. Since you knew when they would be getting suspicious, you didn’t worry about changing the bandage on your head every few days. And you were so good with the animals… because you understood the impulsive truth in them.”

She swirled around to her daughter, observing how Noa’s throat was working with trying to keep her emotions under control.

“And then there was Rorsh,” Cara added softly. She could only shake her head in amazement at overlooking all that. “You’re a Confessor and I never suspected it even once until hearing that Kahlan is your… other mother.”

No one of the two blondes said anything for a while, Cara unable to decipher her child’s thoughts as she was turned fully towards the fire, her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest.

How did it come to this? And there isn’t even anyone to blame but ourselves.

Then Noa started to speak, under her breath, with a defeated, tired note in her voice and nothing else.

“I… I ‘confessed’ someone for the first time when I was three and unaware of my powers,” she began without looking at her mother.

“It was a family father that had tried to hit me when I wanted to play with his children and I accidently touched him because I was panicking. He then followed me… for days. I cried and didn’t understand why he came after me everywhere. Grandma ordered me to get rid of him before the whole village would kill us both, so… I told him what she said to me: That I never wanted to see him again as long as he lived.”

Cara saw the shadows play on the wall, dreading what was going to come soon. Confessor powers were an unforgiving gift.

She wasn’t wrong.

“One day later they found him in the barn, hanging. He had killed himself without regard for his family. I saw how they got him down. I guess that was my first murder.”

The Mord’Sith closed her eyes in pain.

“I confessed more people, all of them out of accident, before I learned to control this… thing I had in me. An older woman. A young boy. A mother. A daughter. It didn’t matter. Once confessed, the villagers killed most of them before I could do anything, trying to safe their corrupted souls from me. They were too afraid to do anything but beat me with sticks then whenever they saw me. But then, two years after the last person I confessed, they came to my grandma’s house and… when she was dead, I was able to flee and hide for two weeks before they found me and dragged me into the woods with ropes, so that they could kill me.”

“And I found you,” Cara concluded, gripping her Agiel so tightly she thought either it or her hand would break any second. “What happened in Rorsh?”

“The moment I saw you go down, I snapped. It was… surprisingly easy to confess everyone in my sight. I was furious. I had never been so furious before in my life.” Noa took a notable shaky breath.

“What did you tell them?”

Cara was only able to see the outline of her child’s face. She could see the white–knuckled grip on her fists, though.

“I told them to rip themselves apart. To not keep anyone alive, not even themselves. I wanted them to hurt, just like me, more than me. I watched the carnage and when the last one dropped, I… I knew that they had been right, that I… I’m… I’m a monster, a demon, something… bad.”

It was then that the first sobs broke through and Noa covered her face in her hands while she gasped for air, shoulders heaving in pain, her voice laced with tears. “How could I have told you? I didn’t want you to be scared of me, to hate me! I couldn’t have survived that, everything but that. When Zane told me about Confessors and that they confessed people I didn’t make the connection until I overheard them talk about the details in Aydindril. And that… that Mord’Sith are the Confessors greatest enemies.”

Cara couldn’t bear to see the suddenly so small frame of her daughter shake with soul–wracking grief any longer and she walked over, picking the slim girl from the ground and sitting down on a couch with Noa on her lap, who wrapped her arms around her mother within seconds.

“You’re not a monster, Noa. You’re my… our daughter. That’s all that counts.” The Mord’Sith stroked a hand up and down her back, making soothing noises into the girl’s ear while Noa pressed herself close and cried and cried.

“I– I don’t w–want to h–have this,” Noa gasped out and Cara became afraid that the girl would pass out from the lack of oxygen, so hard was she weeping.

“I know,” she simply replied, unable to help with this fate. “It’s okay.”

“It w–was all my f–fault… t–they hated m–me. I can’t… can’t stand to be h–hated.”

“No one’s hating you here. We won’t, I swear.” Cara’s words were calm, imploring.

After long minutes Noa seemed to calm down a little, still sobbing softly into her mother’s neck guard. “I’m so sorry… I don’t w–want to kill anyone that way again.”

She was only three. I killed for the first time when I was twelve… Noa, I’m so sorry for not being there sooner. It wasn’t your fault.

“Shhh,” Cara patted the short hair, understanding now how much pain the kid had to endure back then to get rid of the strands to create the small flower. She hugged her even closer. “You’re in Aydindril, the home of the Confessors. Everything you don’t understand can be taught to you here.”

There was a pause as the girl gathered herself. Noa sniffed and slowly pulled back, melting Cara’s heart with the sadness and guilt that still resided in her eyes. “Can Kahlan teach me?”

“You two are the only Confessors left,” she explained, easing her fingers out of their gloves and then wiping away the wetness on Noa’s cheeks. A slight blush crept onto the tanned skin beneath her hand.

“I’m sorry for not telling. And crying. And a dozen other things I can’t think of right now.”

“It’s fine. We all make mistakes. Now forget what happened on Darza, it’s long past. First we have to deal with the fact that you have another mother.”

Both blondes shared a look, equally confused about how that might have come to pass. But with all secrets now out in the open and both of them drained from the night, they stayed silent, content with being together after all this time.

“And now,” Cara proclaimed towards her after long minutes with a glare, “we’re going to talk about ‘sacrificing ourselves to ensure our mothers get home safely’… ring a bell?”

Noa ducked her head with a weak half–grin.

* * * * *

It wasn’t her place. That’s what Kahlan believed when she stood before the door to the common room in the very early morning hours, unsure if she should join the two blondes or not.

As Noa’s mother she had a right to come inside and connect with her daughter, but… reality was different. They were strangers to each other and Noa was so focused on Cara that it seemed like stealing away a piece of their closeness when trying to force herself into the group.

Maybe she would leave it to Noa to set the pace of their relationship. It was at least worth a try to see how the two were doing right now… and there were important matters to discuss if she proved correct. She just needed to see if they were okay and steal a glance at her… daughter.

Opening the door with her heart beating fast, filled with a sense of trepidation and anticipation, she walked inside with a view around the interior. The image that greeted her warmed her down to the core.

Noa was sitting on Cara’s legs, feet dangling and swinging relaxed while she talked to the older blonde about something that had Cara’s lips curling in a seldom smile, her chin propped up on a curled fist. They both looked up when Kahlan walked closer.

The girl slipped down on the ground and made a few hesitant steps in the brunette’s direction until both stood in front of each other filled with awkwardness.

Licking her lips, Noa adopted a straight pose and carefully said with the best resemblance of seriousness that was in her nature, “Good morning, mother.”

Kahlan felt her heart swell with happiness and she wrung her hands nervously with a smile. “Hello Noa.” Tense silence. “… uh… would it… is it okay if I hugged you?” she asked, remembering that the girl had always greeted any kind of touch with a certain sort of stiffness.

Noa half–shrugged, half–nodded and Kahlan came close, wrapping her arms around the tumbler and holding the girl close, smiling brighter when her daughter reciprocated the hug. And just like that all strangeness dissipated into the familiarity the two shared deep in their hearts, born from the same blood flowing in their veins. Her eyes found Cara’s in the distance and she smirked at the pronounced eye roll of the blonde.

“Some might think you’re seeing each other for the first time,” Cara drawled when the two stepped apart again.

“Well, in a way we do,” Kahlan replied and mustered the face of her daughter with interest. Then she placed a hand on Noa’s shoulder and led the girl with her to where Cara sat, taking a seat across from the older blonde. She took Noa’s hands in her own and glanced up in the two different eye–colors, adopting a sense of graveness.

“Noa… if you’re my child, then…”

“She’s a Confessor, Kahlan,” Cara shortened the hesitant questioning down.

Noa scrunched up her face in distaste.

Seeing the reaction, Kahlan gently squeezed her fingers. “It’s a gift, Noa.”

“It’s a curse, nothing else.”

“I understand that you might see it like that,” Kahlan carefully replied in a compassionate voice, “but when you start learning what it really means to be a Confessor, you might change your opinion. It’s a heavy burden and brings with it great responsibility, but you will see how much good it can do in this world.”

Looking towards Cara, the two women shared a long, meaningful glance that had Noa look between them in confusion. “What? What is it?”

“I already know what that means,” Cara said in return to the unspoken words she and the brunette had shared right now.

Kahlan nodded and looked back up to Noa’s youthful face. She took a deep breath. “This is going to come as a shock, but… Noa, as the second–to–last Confessor and my daughter… you will be the next Mother Confessor. The ruler of all the Midlands.”

“Holy storms… tell me you’re joking,” Noa gasped with horror.

Cara pinched the bridge of her nose. “This all feels like a cheesy bed time story,” she grumbled with exhaustion.

“I mean, look at me! I’m not a ruler, I’m an artist!” She gazed imploringly at both her parents. “This isn’t going to work… pick someone else!”

“We can’t. It’s the law, since three thousand years. There is no other human being that could take your rightful seat.” Kahlan let her shoulders drop in sadness.

“Mom?” The hopeful gleam in Noa died the second she watched Cara shake her head. She deflated, dragging a hand through the short, wild hair, exhaustion and the redness around her eyes making her seem even more tired. “I think I really need a few hours of sleep right now.”

“Will you find back to my room?” her blonde mother asked with a furrowed brow.

Noa nodded, turning around with a mumbled “See you later” and quickly leaving them to find some time for herself, almost fleeing the room. Those were a few revelations too much for one night.

Kahlan sighed deeply with a look of regret and leaned backward in her chair. “I should have waited until later before telling her this, shouldn’t I?”

“Maybe. It’s useless to muse about What If’s now.”

They both let themselves be hypnotized by the dancing light of the embers in the herd, that had dimmed noticeably since the time they had sat here after coming back from the city. It was a comfortable kind of quiet, but both their minds were too occupied with the recent events to relish it.

It was inevitable that their thoughts turned to the woman beside them and that their eyes found each other in the dimness. Kahlan didn’t feel herself stand up and sit beside the Mord’Sith on the couch, her hand straying to hold the darker one between her own.

“We need to–…”

“No.” Cara interrupted her with a calm tone that snapped the brunette’s mouth shut. “We don’t need to talk. We shouldn’t talk.” Not with the marriage coming closer. Not with our duty. Not with a land that will refuse our closeness.

The Confessor watched where her thumb stroked the smooth skin of the blonde’s knuckles. Cara was right and the truth of it closed off her throat. Yet she couldn’t pull away and the other woman didn’t either.

But it was so hard to keep away, much harder than she had the strength to endure today. Not with the two of them right here. Not with the knowledge that they had a child.

Before she could utter another word though, Cara seemed to know that she couldn’t keep the distance up and raised her hand to seal Kahlan’s lips with her forefinger, while the others lay against her chin. There was unhidden longing in the Mord’Sith’s eyes, need and pain that warred with each other.

Kahlan’s lids fluttered close at the touch on her skin, but the yearning to see the blonde opened them back up. She wanted to drown in cyan green and fade away from the world, so that they never had to part again. The finger drifted to the corner of her mouth, gently, so much softer than she had ever imagined and she marveled at Cara’s shuddering breath when she exhaled through her slightly parted lips and against the skin of the blonde’s hand.

“It can’t be,” Cara half–pleaded, half–bemoaned the wish in Kahlan’s deep blueness and the answering call in her own flesh.

“I know,” Kahlan whispered in return, touching her forehead to Cara’s. “I know.”

It was only the world that stood between them, with both women clawing at the sides to reach each other, to no other prevail than hurting themselves while trying.

And with that they parted into the night, so close and yet so far. It was only the late hour that had them sleep deeply and not wondering what ‘it’ really was in the other woman’s mind.

Part 21

The morning brought more confusion and a tangle of limbs and a figure crashing out of bed with a yelp, as now Cara was unused to not waking up alone and had kicked at the other frame out of instinct when she felt a jolt of pain at her hip.

“What in all the Underworld’s caverns was that?!”

Noa scrambled up with a grunt, rubbing the new bump on the back of her head with a wince. “What was what?”

“Did you steal one of my Agiels?” Cara squinted at the confused kid. Having fallen asleep in her leathers, the blanket now stuck to one of her buckles and she fought with the fabric without glancing down.

“Me? What? Naw.” Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she finally realized what her mother meant. “Oh! No, I didn’t… I have my own.”

“You have what?!”

Noa winced again. “I said I have my own.” She rolled up her leg and showed Cara the red leather rod that was sticking to her leg in a crude self–made holster. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on some stuff.”

“How the heck did you get that Agiel?”

“Uhm, well… I stole it out of the temple, when I tried to convince Triana about the screeling. Without an Agiel she wouldn’t have believed that I belonged to them, you know, as a Mord’Sith in training… and I could use it anyway.”

Cara could only slap her hand on her face and wonder how fate had provided her with a child naive enough that it would stroll into a Mord’Sith temple without a second thought and get out alive.

“For spirit’s sake, don’t let Kahlan know about this and the Agiel…” she could only reply with a sense of foreboding.

So when all found themselves together for a very, very late breakfast, with all of them yawning and bleary eyed, Zedd decided to up the confusion even more, because obviously things weren’t complicated enough yet.

“I might have stumbled on another problem concerning our dear young girl.”

Noa groaned loudly and nearly dunked her forehead into the vegetable soup in front of her with frustration. “Oh, please no. I’ve had it with the problems.”

“After using another strand of her hair…”

“Where does he get that stuff?” Zane stage–whispered to Richard, who could only shrug.

“…I found out that Noa’s magic is quite… twisted.”

“What did you do?” Cara asked sarcastically, filled to the brim with annoyance and scrapping her spoon through her food without real appetite, “put her hair in a bowl and spit on it?”

The wizard snapped his neck towards her. “Did you spy on me?!”

Cara blinked and did a double–take, dumbfounded.

“Anyway, can we wait with the revelations until we’re done with eating? If there are more problems about me on the way, then I’d like to met them with a full belly.”

That was at least one thing the girl and the wizard could agree on without doubt. The amount of food they consummated had Zane hug his bowl closer with the dry comment of “If there’s ever a famine in the city, lock them up in the dungeons or we’re all going to starve.”

Later they found themselves in Zedd’s room again, the wizard tapping his finger thoughtfully against his jaw, training his eyes on a bored Noa. They had been standing like that since about ten minutes and everyone was getting restless.

“The good news is,” he finally opened up, “is that I know how Noa came to be.”

Kahlan tilted her head, clearly interested now. “I thought you said you had bad news?”

“One after the other,” Zedd replied with a smile, gesturing with one hand. “You do remember the way you came back from Dazrodha? How you walked through the Magical Planes?”

Both unexpected parents nodded with a grim look, the day would be burned into their minds forever with all the sad events that had happened then. Noa shuffled her foot with a guilty frown.

“I watched how you fought your way through it, trying to get to the other side. The Magical Planes are filled with pure, chaotic magic, untamed and raw energy that is neither shapeable nor controllable by human hand, unless it is filtered by pure magical beings. Then and only then it can be used by us wizards when we have the gift and formed into either Good, Dark or…” He held his finger up in a ponderous gesture, opening his mouth wide.

“Powerful magic,” Cara, Kahlan and Richard replied with an exasperated eye roll, trying to hurry things up. Noa and Zane shrugged at each other, quite oblivious about the subject.

“Uh…eh, right. Yes, exactly.”

After getting back on track, Zedd slowly walked up and down beside them, trying to explain his point further. “Anything can happen in this realm, as the energies are nearly omnipotent. Some think it is the origin of all that lives, taken and shaped by the Creator into what you call existence. In your case, you were assaulted by two currents, simply because you stood in the way of their flow. It connected with the magic that resides in your bodies and in turn with your very substance… and then something happened that could be described as once in a lifetime: Both tempered forces crashed into each other and merged, slipping into a portal that lead to a Dazrodha 12 years prior… and molded the little girl that is now standing before us today.”

Five people gaped at him.

“You mean, she was born from… chance?” Richard wondered out loud.

Zedd nodded. “The probability of this occurrence is like… one in an infinite number. Simply because chaos magic is nothing you can control, not with human hands. At least… until today.”

“What do you mean?” Cara was skeptic, as the whole thing sounded as if there was a catch. And the wizard had spoken of a problem…

“To make it short: Noa is a being filled to the brim with pure chaos magic. Actually, she is made from chaos magic, it might be the energy that is holding her very substance together.”

A light went on in the Mord’Sith and she shifted around to look at her daughter, who looked quite lost with all this new information. “That’s the reason the Dry Storm didn’t affect you… because you’re made from the same energy!”

“And I guess it is also the explanation to why the spelled stone didn’t connect with our time, when she opened the portal… her magic tempered with it and threw her out in a place that was more than one year apart from our own.”

Noa just haggardly dragged her fingers through her short strands, unhappy with everything that had occurred. “This is way over my head…”

“What does that mean for her? This chaos magic situation?…” Kahlan asked with concern for her new–found child.

Zedd sadly spread his arms. “Honestly? I have no idea. This has never occurred before. I’m only convinced of one thing: right now it’s the only power that’s keeping the opposite forces of Mord’Sith and Confessor in her from attacking each other. There might be a possibility that she is able to control the chaos magic inside of her. The higher chance though is that it will rip her apart if anything tempers too much with it. And there’s the issue that even if she can use the chaos magic, practically everything could happen when she lets it out. From painting the walls green to levitating the whole castle to erasing every human being between twenty to thirty… it’s unpredictable for a wizard like me.”

“Confessor, Mord’Sith and chaos magic?…” Zane paused. “Hey wait, guys, can we name her the Seeker, too? Just for the giggles?” Two hands slapped the back of his head hard and he flinched at Cara’s and Richard’s reprimanding gaze. “What? Am I the only one that thinks it would be funny?”

The young blonde waved her hands around. “Okay, stop, wait. I don’t get it. So what am I now? A Confessor? A wizard? Both? Nothing?” She looked into clueless faces. “So I’m not the only one who has no freakin’ idea?”

“You, my dear,” Zedd said with a regal tone and while laying a supporting hand on her shoulder, “are something very special.”

“Now that’s gonna make me feel better when I’m torn into little twitching pieces by that rubbish in my body,” Noa retorted dryly, making Kahlan snort quietly at the utterly Cara–like image she presented that second, despite the grave subject.

“You are quite right that the forces in you are a dangerous symbiosis of some of the strongest energies the existence provides,” Zedd started to say, only to be interrupted again by the child.

“Which makes me a deformation. Something that’s not supposed to exist, because it’s unnatural.”

“Noa,” Cara reprimanded her daughter for the self–discrimination and the girl let her chin sink down on her chest with tightly pressed lips.

They stood not quite sure what to say anymore, as the situation was complicated enough and they all weren’t as versatile in magical subjects as Zedd, so no one knew how to ask the correct question.

“Might a Quillion help?” Richard asked as if unsure if one of the two mothers would rip him apart just for suggesting that option.

“What’s that?”

Zedd turned to the two youngest people in the room. “It’s a stone that sucks off magical energy from all those gifted, or in other words, magic users.” At the sudden hopeful gleam in Noa’s curious eyes he shook his head with a frown. “But using the Quillion on you would be like pointing an arrow randomly at your flesh, hoping to catch the festering ulcer in you while simultaneously destroying vital organs.”

“So I’m stuck with this,” Noa forced out, angry tears gathering in her already wet lashes. “I’ll keep being a danger to me and everyone else and there’s nothing I can do to change it? And you want me to rule a country despite it? On top of it? That’s a cruel joke,” she spat out, turning and marching out the door before anyone was able to stop her.

For the first few seconds no one made a move to follow her, almost all of them unable to share the pain that Noa went through at this moment and in three cases honest surprise at the dark reaction the happy girl normally showed. But Cara could see that Kahlan was gnawing at her lip in nervous frustration and she placed a hand on her upper arm, nodding into the direction the girl had gone to.

Her eyes told Kahlan all the Mord’Sith didn’t speak out loud. Go. Talk to her. She needs you, too.

The brunette was gone in a heartbeat, white dress billowing behind her in her hastened walk.

“Cara, if it would be fine with you, then I’d like to teach Noa some elemental knowledge about magic. And at the same time try out some things, see how her powers influence her, maybe even find out how they work,” Zedd offered with the will to help, “it might be instrumental for her health.”

“Do that then,” Cara accepted, unable to do anything else. She, they, had to know if there was a possibility of Noa’s power turning against her. “Do you think the chaos magic influences the Confessor magic somehow?”

Zedd could only hold up his hands in lack of knowledge.

“I see…” The Mord’Sith rubbed the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “It couldn’t be easy for once, couldn’t it?”

Turning to leave Zane, Richard and Zedd standing behind, the wizard busied the ex–artist with helping him find information, while the Seeker quietly turned to take a ride in the woods, as the events had riled him up just as well.

Cara, while walking, tried to be realistic about the news. The chaos magic might be dangerous… or it might be not. Maybe they were lucky for once and the latter was the case. At least they had some answers after all this guessing about what happened.

Noa had somehow freed herself of the Apothics that had captured her, gotten a hold of the ruby and opened another portal thanks to half her genes being from Kahlan. It explained why Zedd had not been able to find her presence on Dazrodha, because at that moment she had already been in the Midlands and on the road with the Blazing Carnival.

If it was chance or destiny that they had met again, Cara couldn’t answer. But she knew that whatever would come, be it good or bad, all three of them were together now and would see it through to the end.

* * * * *

Kahlan found Noa near one of the staircases, the girl having sat down at the massive stone railing and dangling her legs down over the emptiness, hands gripping the elaborate adornings found everywhere. The glistening wetness on her cheeks and the empty expression, with which she gazed into nothingness, hurt the brunette’s heart.

The only indication Noa gave when Kahlan sat down beside her, dragging her knees close beneath the dress, was absently dragging the back of her palm over the wet skin.

“Did I miss something? Maybe that I need to give up tumbling because it doesn’t befit a Confessor?” Noa asked without looking, but instead of the biting sarcasm there was just an aching tiredness in her voice.

It’s not natural for Noa to be this pessimistic. Will we be able to change it? Make her feel unburdened again?..

“No,” Kahlan eased her mind, “no, you don’t have to give that up. I wouldn’t want you to.”

Glancing over at her mother, it was clear that Noa was unsure what to say or how to behave. So the brunette took a deep breath and started to speak in her usual calm, captivating tone. She told her daughter about her own childhood, how hard it had been to be forced to learn how to use her Confessions in that way, how she had suffered with and for her sister… and how wonderful it had been to finally join the Sisters of the Light and be trained as a Confessor. Trying to show Noa that her past had not been easy either, if maybe not as much a crazy ride as her daughter’s.

“I know that our power is hard to bear most of the time, but I didn’t lie when I told you that it can do a lot of good. The people out there rely on us, they trust in us…” She smiled at Noa, who was listening attentively. “I know that you have a good heart that wants to see people smile. Imagine how much stability and safety you can bring the land if you rule fair and just, keeping them from being harmed by other lands and even from the unfairness in their own midst.”

“I… didn’t think about it that way…” Noa admitted, shifting her eyes to the side. “I thought it was pure evil.”

“And I can understand why you did that,” Kahlan replied, gently stroking her fingers through the soft, honey blonde strands, still having trouble to understand that this wonderful being beside her was her own flesh and blood. She was happy when the girl didn’t flinch away from the affection.

“I was afraid of myself for so long… I still am,” Noa admitted softly.

“Using our Confessor power… it’s… hard. Hard and yet easy. And I want to tell you how amazing it is that you learned to control it so soon and without help, as it takes a lot of self–discipline and understanding.”

Playing with one of her thin braids, Noa shrugged, not overly happy with the compliment. “I had to. Otherwise I don’t think I would’ve survived.” Shifting her vision towards Kahlan, the Mother Confessor watched as a blue eye, the very mirror of her own, flickered with fear and trepidation. “Do you really think I’m fit to be a ruler some day? I… don’t know anything about it at all. Just the mass of people in this land is… astonishing. Overwhelming.”

“You have a lot of time to learn and there are many that will help you along the way. You have a good heart, Noa, and you want to bring happiness even after all that you went through. There’s no more important basic prerequisite than that.”

Noa nodded with a contemplative look, thinking it through. She wasn’t anywhere near fully convinced and it would take a lot of time for the girl to feel fine with the new situation. Time and effort that Kahlan was more than willing to give if it meant spending more time with her child, although she felt guilty for loading such a heavy burden on the young, carefree girl’s back.

“Mother?” The hesitant call had Kahlan’s heart thundering with blooming love for her daughter. “You’re… not afraid of me, aren’t you?”

“Never,” the brunette answered with a soft smile. Noa’s gaze was searching, hopeful. “Not even if you really were a second away from freeing your magic. Not even if you were a wild, savage beast due to your powers.”

The girl bit her lip. “Promise?” she whispered.

Kahlan engulfed one of the smaller hands in her own, holding it safely closed between her fingers. “Promise.”

“Thank you.” The burden on the blonde’s shoulder eased notably and they fell into comfortable silence. Kahlan prayed to the Creator that Noa could learn to live with the fate of being the next Mother Confessor and that the duty of it wouldn’t break her spirit.

A floor away Cara had a watchful eye over the bonding of daughter and mother, protecting the two most important females in her life with her presence and finding her own thoughts linger on questions she was unable to answer now.

But there was one truth she was sure of.

This is my family.

And she would protect it with every fiber of her being.

* * * * *

And so began Noa’s training. Not only as a future Mother Confessor, but also more–or–less as a wizard.

The very first thing Noa had to learn in both subjects was one simple ability: Composure.

It was also the very first setback they had.

Teaching Noa how to sit still, to listen attentively with calm and serenity and an upright posture, was nearly impossible. There was always something on the girl that started twitching, be it her hands, her feet or even her head that swayed from side to side. After even the most ridiculous exercises that stretched on for days, Kahlan and Zedd stood with a deep sigh a few feet next to the make–shift throne in Zedd’s chamber and were at the end of their wits.

“It’s the chaos magic,” Zedd finally said with a frown. “Whenever she tries to focus on too many things, her concentration starts slipping and the energy that she keeps behind mental walls starts flowing uncontrolled through her limbs. It looks like Noa keeps an unconscious tight control not only on her Confessor power, but also on the chaos magic. That takes a lot of focus.”

“And that means she unconsciously concentrates more on her inner workings than the world around her, thus leaving only parts of her mind left to direct to the outside world. Otherwise, if her control slips, the energies in her body go haywire,” Kahlan concluded with crossed arms.

“But it only happens when she concentrates on it for a longer time. As we have seen during her artistry, quick, focused decisions based on impulse and logical, subconscious conclusions are working well for her,” Zedd added with a nod.

“And it’s also connected to distance,” Cara added from behind them, causing the wizard and the Confessor to almost jump into the air in surprise. “Make it four or five feet away from her and she’ll be sure to overlook it if she’s busy doing something else. Or unfocused. Which she’s ninety percent of the day.”

Kahlan placed a hand over her heart, looking reproachfully at the Mord’Sith. “Cara! Knock first, you’re killing me some of these days!”

Cara simply smirked, then walked closer to Noa, who was keeping herself entertained by doing acrobatic acts on the seat. When her blonde mother approached, she plopped back down on her backside and brightened.

“Mom! Can we go outside and do some training?”

“First you’re finishing your lesson with those two here. Catch.” Slipping an Agiel out of her belt, that was not one of the two in the holsters, she threw it straight to the girl. “I found it in your room. Better keep it with you, otherwise you won’t get anything done here today.”

“Ha, thanks!” Noa grinned and pinned the Agiel into her own belt.

Well, and here goes nothing.

The Mord’Sith turned around to a dumbfounded Kahlan and before she could open her mouth to try and explain, an angry, red color spread on the brunette’s cheeks.

“You… you taught our daughter how to use an Agiel?!” she shouted incredulously.

“She wanted to learn it, I didn’t force her to anything!” Cara shot back defensively.

“She was just a kid at that time!”

“And I was nine when I learned it,” the blonde replied, wisely keeping the information hidden that Noa had been eight when she had gotten Cara to leave the Agiel behind in camp.

“It’s fine, mother,” Noa tried to ease the tension from afar. “I really wanted to learn it, it’s not Mom’s fault.”

“And it helps her,” Cara added imploringly, trying to calm the upset Mother Confessor down. “It might safe her life some day. She is much more focused and concentrated when she holds an Agiel close to her skin.”

Kahlan exhaled heavily, thrumming her fingers on her arm in unhidden frustration. But the acceptance was already finding its way into her blue eyes, turned pale with anger. “I guess… you speak from experience,” she finally gave in. Although she could only shake her head in astonishment. “She… shouldn’t know such pain. How sad is it that agony can keep her safer than we can?”

Cara could only gaze down at the floor, clenching her jaw.

It was the wizard that found the whole situation quite interesting from a professional stand–point. “It seems like the power of the Agiel either fulfills the role of controlling the chaos or the Confessor magic. I’d pick the latter, but I’m not very sure. It would leave Noa more concentration to focus on other topics.”

“Like catching note of arrows and throwing knifes before they find their mark,” Cara grumbled.

And so they ended the first lesson, which closed much more satisfying after Noa was able to concentrate correctly, and went on to another. Even with the Agiel Noa found it hard to learn certain sections, which was no wonder considering that the girl had grown up in a rural village, then lived in the woods and had then spend over a year accompanying a performer troupe. Alone teaching her how to handle numbers with more than two digits was something that would have caused Zedd to go gray if his hair wasn’t white already.

But there were things more complicated than learning how to be a Confessor or even a Mother Confessor.

Many days later Kahlan and Cara came into the older man’s room, only to see several servants including Zane trying to catch a few dozen books that were levitating through the air, Noa apologizing desperately to a group of guards covered in bee stings over in the corner and with Zedd… well.

The two mothers could hardly contain a smirk.

“Laugh all you want, I know I do appear quite amusing,” the wizard prompted with a raised eyebrow… colored in a delightful pink. His hair had a matching baby blue color and his robes were a light pastel green.

“Creator’s Breath, what did you make her do? Conjure up an army?” Kahlan asked with a laugh at the unusual coloring the wizard sported.

“Actually I tried to teach her how to get a candle flame burning. I thought I’d start small… just that chaos magic doesn’t do small.”

“And what did you do after that?” Cara asked with an amused quirk of her lips. At Zedd’s confused look she indicated the different scenes. “Flying tomes, the guards… your… new look.” Next to her Kahlan pressed a hand on her lips to hide a giggle. It raised the Mord’Sith’s amusement even more when she could get the brunette to laugh.

“We didn’t do anything else. All of that happened at the same time,” Zedd answered dryly.

“Looks like you have quite the obstacle to clear.” She shared a mirthful glance with the other part of the parentage.

“I guess that means the two of you need to train harder, eh?” Cara smirked. At least it appeared that operating the magic didn’t seem to influence Noa’s health. Just the one of the people around her, if they were unlucky.

Two weeks later the whole castle inhabitants stood in the throne room and complained of vanishing laundry, burning water, strangely colored animals, floors with upturned gravity, people appearing ten miles from where they were supposed to be and so on. Once Kahlan had managed to calm their nerves, they found themselves back with Zedd and Noa.

“All right, I give in. The chaos magic is uncontrollable outside of Noa’s body,” Zedd admitted with an exhausted sigh. He had been the one forced to redo all that had gone wrong in the past days. Thankfully the mayhem done from the wild energy didn’t block itself from being spelled back to how it was supposed to be, causing everyone affected to be content again.

Noa scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment.

“So what does that mean?” Kahlan asked from where she had her hands planted on the girl’s shoulders, easing her with a squeeze. Concerning to Zedd’s words the girl was thirteen and ten months now, so it didn’t look like comforting a kid anymore. Noa was slowly becoming a young woman.

“It means no wizard’s fire, no blasts, no outright influencing magic…” Zedd began.

Cara smirked with an evil glint in her eye. “Doesn’t sound so bad. It’s like a controlled, harmless version of you, wizard.”

Zedd glared at her. “Very funny. At least it seems like her Confessor power isn’t influenced by the chaos magic by what you told me. Maybe I overlooked something, but I can only assume that all things a wizard can do are closed off to her, as it isn’t in my power to teach her how to use this energy.”

“At least one thing less I need to worry about,” Noa replied with a smile.

And with that ended her magical lessons for the time being. Not that anyone minded. Least of all the poor cow they found on the highest castle tower one day later.

Part 22

“She’s got your face, definitely. Just look at her mouth and grin.”

“But your coloring. Well, mostly, she’s darker than you.”

“Yeah, but the height? That’s your part of the family. The freckles, too.”

“Yet she’s got your eyes, that’s unmistakable.”

“Although with both our eye colors.”

Both women leaned nearer together and peeked at her with tilted heads. Noa fidgeted.

“Hey, my dear ladies, how’s your day?”

“Zane!” Noa whined out loud from where she sat cross–legged on the floor. “My parents are being weird!”

“The voice is different though,” Kahlan added as if she hadn’t heard anything. Cara nodded affirmatively with pursed lips, sitting next to the brunette on the bank in front of their offspring.

Zane grinned at the three. “What are they doing?”

“I think her hair color might be from my mother. She had a red tint to her own,” Cara mused out loud.

Kahlan turned to her with surprised interest, always eager to find out more about the elusive blonde. “She did?”

“They are talking about me, with me sitting right in front of their face,” Noa grumbled out loud.

“But doesn’t she remind you of a fox sometimes? Or a cat? Especially when she tilts her head that way…” Kahlan rubbed her chin with squinted eyes.

Noa threw her hands up in the air with an eye roll.

Cara leaned back languidly, lounging against the wall like a sated predator. “That’s what I always thought.”

“I’m pretty sure she has that aspect from you,” Kahlan said smirking, a twinkle in her eye while watching Cara blink with surprise.

“See? See?! I could as well be air!” Noa huffed, placing her chin in the palms of her hands with a glower.

“Then I guess I’m your knight in peasant clothes, ’cause I was send to inform you of your next lesson.” He watched her face fall and chuckled. “What, the mighty Jester coping out of a dance lesson? I’m shocked.”

“But court dances are so boring! Ugh, fine… it’s better than listening to those loons going on about how my left big toe is this and my nostril is that…”

Trailing after her best friend, Noa left her parents behind with a weak wave and hanging shoulders. Kahlan could only smile at the lack of enthusiasm.

“I went through the whole thing myself, but I was younger then. The poor girl has to either learn all of it from scratch or even annoying basics like court dancing… if they saw what she is capable of on a stage, the teachers would quit their jobs.”

“I could do without some of the stubbornness, though.”

“She’s a teen, what do you expect? I think we’re lucky that Noa’s as tame as she is.”

“You call that tame?” Cara asked with a raised eyebrow. “I think I can imagine now how you were as a teenager.”

Kahlan slapped the back of her hand against Cara’s upper arm with an indignant look. “Oh, shush. I was a good girl.”

“Oh, sure.” Cara smirked at her, then leaned back to gaze into the hall. “Then let’s hope our daughter comes after you in that aspect.”

Inching closer to the blonde, Kahlan engulfed the formerly abused arm with her own, laying down her head on the stiff Mord’Sith’s shoulder. She was unable to keep away from the addictive warmth Cara emitted and thus always sought her out when it happened that they were alone.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? Our child. Just saying it seems like a wonder.”

Cara grunted affirmatively, trying to keep herself from grabbing Kahlan and pressing her against the bank, the wall, the floor, anywhere, just to feel their skin and bodies connect fully.

Sadly, they never stayed alone for long and they untangled themselves at the heavy steps finding their way into the hall. Richard appeared in the doorway, an easy smile on his features like always. He was a bit sad that his love spent so much time with her daughter and Cara, on top of her duties, which left nearly no space for him, but he was understanding and forced himself not to feel neglected. Kahlan had earned the time with her family, even if it sometimes felt as if he wasn’t part of it.

He even had told her that honestly, not wanting to keep any secrets from the woman he cared most about. Adding with a thrill of anticipation that he hoped things would change once they were married and missing the shifting gaze of the brunette whenever he mentioned that prospect.

“Hello, Richard,” Kahlan greeted him with a smile, her good mood still ongoing. She didn’t want the guilt of lying to her fiance weigh her down today.

He greeted them, happily hugging the Mother Confessor close. He was dressed in thick clothes, as snow was covering the land outside the castle walls, the winter having come sooner this year. “Where’s your tiny ball of energy at?”

“Learning new court dances, as far as we–…”

She was interrupted at the sound of heavy, clinking footsteps echoing through the floors, half–a–dozen guards rushing into the hall they were staying in. All of them were breathing and gasping heavily, covered in a layer of freshly fallen snow, their commander hardly able to finish his salute.

“Mother Confessor… your daughter… has slipped… out of the castle…” he panted out. Kahlan shushed him, recognizing the crew as Noa’s personal protection outside the castle, waiting until he could speak normally again before edging him on. “She vanished out of her lesson and I activated the castle guards. But we couldn’t stop her from getting into the city… we chased her across the bridge. Three times.”

Cara chuckled at the image of a certain blonde girl fooling the men enough that they would follow her over the same bridge so often.

“How could she get out?” Richard asked with a frown.

“A witness reported that the castle gate was left open.”

“Do you think you will be able to find her in the city?” Kahlan requested with furrowed brows.

The commander opened his mouth hesitantly, but Cara spoke before he got a sound out.

“Forget it, Kahlan. She’s too fast. If she doesn’t want to be found you can have the whole castle search for her without result.”

Kahlan sighed, knowing that the guards were unequipped to come even remotely close to the missing girl. True to Cara’s words the tumbler could keep the whole garrison busy, with her reckless stunts and quick climbing.

“You tried to stop her, leave it at that. She’ll come home when she’s hungry,” Kahlan commanded with a wry smile, observing how the guards bowed and hustled away with relief. “I guess we need to see to it ourselves that she doesn’t escape again.”

“Has that happened before?” Richard asked taken aback.

“One or two times, but not as openly as this.”

Cara lowered her eyes. “I’m quite sure Zane has a hand in this. I think he already sweet–talked half the garnison. He’s keeping Noa’s back free, so she can escape without a hitch, but I have yet to catch him meddling.”

Kahlan’s gaze suddenly turned calculating and a smile stretched her lips that had Richard and Cara share a worried look. The Mother Confessor shifted around with a cunning gleam in her eyes.

“So Zane is quite silver–tongued when he wants to, isn’t he? And a very bright young man on top?”

“He strikes me as a very clever guy,” Richard began thoughtfully.

“That guy is shrewd up to his ears,” Cara added with a grim face.

The gleam turned downright evil. “Then I guess we’ll use his abilities for a better purpose…and fill the holes of Noa’s future rulership before they can even begin to form.” She folded her hands serenely behind her back, regal like a true Mother Confessor. “We just found Noa’s first royal advisor,” Kahlan concluded with a bright smile.

Somewhere in the castle a certain young man shivered with a bad sense of foreboding.

* * * * *

“Explain.”

Noa glanced to the left, then to the right. Her face was a deep beet red, but neither from anger nor blushing. Cara stood before her with an empty expression and her arms crossed. “I… made a mistake?”

“I can see that.”

“I thought it would be a good idea.”

“Obviously it wasn’t.”

“Would it help if I said that I won’t do it again?”

“I think not.”

“I… guess you don’t want me to run away anymore?”

“That would be a good start.”

“Can you please let me down now?”

“No.”

Noa sighed, letting her arms swing. To any outsider it would’ve been a strange picture: The girl was dangling one foot over the ground, apparently unwillingly, from a rope wrapped around her right ankle that led out of a window ten feet above her body. The back of her top was stuck to the snow covered rose vines, entangled with the wicked thorns and out of her reach, keeping her in the position she was without a chance to reach up and free her foot.

“Mom, I’m getting a headache.”

“That’s your own fault. If you hadn’t tried to run away from your lessons, you wouldn’t be dangling here now, so deal with it. Consider it your punishment.”

Groaning, the girl struggled in her unwanted prison. To no prevail. Out of options, she started to sulk.

Around twenty minutes later, mother and daughter were still locked in a battle of wills, when the Mother Confessor was finally free of her duties and joined them, led by a pair of guards.

“What in the name of the Underworld happened here?” she asked, confused at the situation.

Noa turned her head to her with a wince, but before she could open her mouth to find an excuse, Cara explained the situation in a few, easy sentences.

“Our slippery fox here tried to escape from her history lesson and chose to crawl out of the window. Her foot got caught in the rope somehow, leading to this…” she pointed a hand at the scowling younger blonde, “ …wonderful predicament here. I chose to leave her hanging as a punishment. Any questions?”

“Yeah, can I get down now? Please?” Noa whined. “I can’t feel my foot anymore.”

“Cara, let her down. I’m sure she has the worst possible headache by now,” Kahlan tried to intervene softly, knowing that maybe talking to Noa would be a better solution than leaving her there for another hour.

The Mord’Sith raised her eyebrows in an incredulous way. “Headache? Kahlan, she’s a tumbler. On Darza she slept hanging from a tree for a whole night, just because she was curious how the bats felt.”

Noa bit the inside of her cheek, caught.

“Come on, get her down. We’ll find another, less… Mord’Sith like punishment,” the Confessor tried to persuade the older blonde with an amused quirk of her lips.

Snorting, Cara caved in and stepped nearer to the brunette. Kahlan wanted to question her, bewildered as she was at the action, and turned just as red as her daughter when Cara unceremoniously lifted the hem of her dress and slipped a polished dagger free. Just the slightest touch of red leather on naked skin had her back tingle pleasantly.

A cut, a rip and a scream later, Noa lay sprawled on the ground, groaning softly in the back of her throat. “Someone kill me please,” she pleaded, feeling dizzy now that the world had righted itself.

“No, you won’t get off that easily from your other lectures,” Kahlan replied with amusement, grabbing the girl under the armpits and dragging her into an upright position. Noa exhaled in relief at standing again, more or less, slack in her mother’s arms.

“It was worth a try.” She looked around in confusion. “Where’s Zane? He was supposed to… uh… I mean, he’s near most of the time,” Noa corrected with a cough.

“You mean he was supposed to distract everyone so you could slip away?” Kahlan asked with a raised eyebrow. Noa just gaped at her. Caught again.

“Well, sorry, my sweet, but Zane now has lessons of his own. He’s trained to be your royal advisor, despite his grumbling, smart objections and his assertion that he needed to be somewhere. Like getting you out of a situation like this.”

Noa sighed, head hanging. “Oh, come one…”

Cara, who had watched silently, now smirked at the defeated tone. “No bailing out anymore.” Turning her head to Kahlan, who was still keeping Noa upright, she placed a hand on her hip. “So, your highness, what’s the Mother–Confessor–to–be’s next destination?”

Kahlan smiled. “Dress rehearsal.”

The young Confessor turned white as a sheet in horror.

One hour later, uninterested to linger while they tried out clothes, Cara came back into the castle to see how her two favourite women were doing. What she didn’t expect was a desperately running tumbler, dressed in a mint green robe, coming straight towards her, followed by a flock of shouting and cursing chamber maids. The panic in Noa’s eyes was evident, but she was leaving the maids behind in a cloud of dust, her speed much higher than that of any other castle inhabitant.

What Noa had not counted on though, was the long hem of her dress. Three feet away from the Mord’Sith she stepped onto it with the gleam of victory in her gaze blown out like a light, surprise blossoming on her features before she slammed down onto the cold, hard floor tiles with the whole length of her body.

Cara slapped a hand over her face.

For ten seconds there was silence. Even the wincing maids had stopped with a hiss of compassion.

Then Noa looked up at Cara, a bright red spot on her forehead and tears of frustration in her bi–colored eyes.

“Mom… I hate dresses!”

Sadly, it didn’t save her from being dragged back kicking and screaming into the chamber where Kahlan waited with her own tinge of irritation.

“Come on, it’s not that bad, Noa.”

“But they cage me in! I stumble over the hem, I can’t turn around well enough, cartwheels and flips are so not an option and… and… I look stupid in it.”

The Mord’sith had to admit that those were a few good points. With her lanky body and not yet developed womanly curves, the dress hung more flatly down from her shoulders than it sat where it should. And seeing the tomboyish Jester in such womanly clothes, with her short hair and constant jittery stance, was quite a change. It would take a lot of time to get used to such an outfit.

Noa looked as despaired as a wet dog.

“I’m so not gonna wear this damn thing to your engagement party.”

Kahlan scowled at her daughter. “Watch your language, Confessor.”

Her brunette mother received a squinted glare that was equally dark. “I outright refuse to appear in this ridiculous piece of cloth on the festival celebrating your engagement, Mother Confessor.”

“Don’t get cocky with me, young lady. You need to get used to dresses if you want to wear Confessor regalia one day.” Her face softened into a smile. “Believe me, you look just like a little princess!”

“I’m no princess!” Noa screamed in terror. Cara had to swallow a laugh at her choice of words.

“I don’t want to go in a dress if she doesn’t have to either!” the girl added in her defense.

Blinking, Kahlan cocked her head. “What? Who?”

Noa pointed to her blonde mother with a stubborn look.

Cara pursed her lips. “You leave me out of this. This uniform is a proud and important sign of my status.”

With a sigh and a rub of her eyebrows, Kahlan seemed to admit defeat. “Okay, I understand. As long as Cara wears her uniform you refuse to wear a dress. I can see that it’s quite unfair, as you are also part Mord’Sith.”

Looking smug, the younger blonde crossed her arms and huffed in contentment.

* * * * *

Three days later, during the engagement party, they all saw the loophole in Kahlan’s words.

“I am going to make you pay for this when the party is over,” Cara hissed through clenched teeth, trying not to feel completely exposed in her wine red dress. It had a tightly cut form that hugged her body and was much, much less frilly than the pink princess clothes had been, this one with a high closed collar and leaving only her arms bare. It was the closest item similar to her armor they had found. She could only fume in silence though, as Kahlan had bribed her into the fancy item with a lot of pleading… and with daring to disclose the Mord’Sith’s secret of being immensely fond of the Night Wisps.

And how nicely that would ruin my reputation, Cara thought with a look of frustration. At least most guests tended to make a wide berth around the angry woman, some recognizing her face and some simply held off by the sheer aura of mildly suppressed violence she emitted.

“It was the only way to get Noa to wear a dress. I’m sorry, it’s just for one evening,” Kahlan tried to appease her with a barely hidden smile. The Mord’Sith looked incredible fetching in the dress, drawing half the room’s looks on her, as well as those of a certain Mother Confessor.

Kahlan had a hard time to keep her hands by herself and away from the gorgeous woman. The brunette wore, of course, the white Confessor dress and had her curled locks halfway up. Sometimes she would catch a heated look on her bare neck, which she guessed originated from the blonde next to her. It didn’t particularly make it easier to not drag Cara into the hallway they had been standing in alone during the other festival.

This is about your marriage to Richard. Pure thoughts, Confessor!… But I swear to the Creator, if she keeps swaying her hips like that when walking… ugh, spirits, give me strength.

She shook her had and draped herself onto the Seeker’s arm to keep herself focused.

They had decided on keeping Noa’s true identity hidden for this time, as it would only bring up a lot of unwanted probing, which was out of place on Kahlan’s engagement party. It wouldn’t be easy to divert questions as those about her complicated heritage. And since they didn’t want to start outright lying about the future Mother Confessor, they would stick with the girl being ‘from Cara’s family’ and keep the correct description for future times. At least it was as close to the truth as they could go.

Noa and Zane, both dressed up to the nines and with a kind of bland boredom on their face, kept to themselves at the side of the hall, making small talk with the appropriate people and basically trying not to appear outright out of place. Thankfully, the young man was a quick thinker and got used to dealing with the highborn quite quickly, directing the prying questions of the guests masterfully in another direction if Noa was at a loss for words.

It was a short while after sundown, with the party going since two or three hours. Kahlan and Richard were making their rounds and appearing as the happy couple, although Richard directed the one or other worried glance at his beloved. With weeks gone since his marriage proposal, he detected a strange behaviour around Kahlan and tried to question her about it, but the Mother Confessor had a few good, although evading answers: Stress, a daughter, her rule and her trouble with Shota’s warning. The Seeker accepted her explanation, but couldn’t help but care about her well–being anyway.

Yet even with the party in full swing, the doors opened once again and a servant announced a new guest in his loud voice that had everyone perk up in interest.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Sergeant Dahlia Hawthorne, consultant of the Lord Rahl.”

The room hushed, everyone paling at the second name and craned their necks to see who the woman was that served their resurrected enemy and that dared to show itself in Aydindril. Kahlan watched out of the corner of her eye how Cara stiffened and then emptied her face of all emotion, standing at the same time tense and lazy.

Loud steps were heard, the crowd parting to let through a young, impressive woman dressed in D’Hara’s colors and the sergeant uniform, her dark blonde hair pinned back in a braid that was just a hair’s breadth away from looking like those of the Mord’Sith. She was pale and beautiful, with ruby red lips and intense eyes that seemed to regard everyone as beneath her and always held a twinkle of arrogant amusement. But even with her haughty demeanor she exuded a certain kind of strength that called forth the respect of anyone that happened to gaze at her.

“Mother Confessor,” she drawled with a raised corner of her lips, bowing with just the right amount of submission. “My Lord sends you his greetings and well wishes for your approaching wedding. He would like to announce that despite our… differences, he bores no ill will towards your combined future.”

Kahlan flared her nostrils, raising her chin in a way that was all Mother Confessor. Noa watched this from afar with keen interest. “I see you laid down your weapons in a gesture of well–meaning. And since you came as guests into my house, I will accept your presence. But you can tell your Lord that before I accept any of his, and be it just his compliments, he needs to take a long look at his faults. And I don’t mean the way he seems to admire himself in the mirror all day long.”

There were a few murmurs and breathy chuckles, but the Sergeant was unfazed and only smiled more. She inclined her head at the Confessor’s words. “I will gladly deliver your words to him, your highness. As we have traveled quite far, will you allow us shelter in your home until the day of our departure?”

“I will,” Kahlan replied coldly.

“Then I will humbly join the festivities and thank the gracious Mother Confessor for her hospitality,” Dahlia replied without a hint of irony, causing Kahlan to furrow her brows in mild confusion and dislike while the Sergeant and her escort mingled with the other guests, who only reluctantly talked to them at first. But the nobles were curious, greedy little beings and tried to get information and gossip out of the young woman like the frauds they were and soon Dahlia was well absorbed in the buzz and conversations.

Richard came closer to his future bride, worry and despite mingling in the tight press of his lips. “Kahlan, do you really think it’s a good idea to have them under your roof? I doubt anyone will be angry at you if you just throw them out again.”

“If it were that easy, Richard, I would do so. But even with them being our enemies I can’t just turn them away, not with the Rules of Hospitality written down in the laws of Aydindril. Some, even if just a few, of the nobles are still sympathizers of the Rahl family or simply prefer his rule over mine. They would tear into my breach of court etiquette like savage dogs.” She placed a hand on his arm, gazing at him imploringly. “I haven’t been their ruler since long, I have to play by the rules. And it’s just his Sergeant, not his whole army or Rahl himself.”

“You’re a fool if you’re thinking that Dahlia is the lesser evil in case of Rahl’s army,” Cara added from beside them, having slunk closer while everyone else was busy talking about the surprising entrance. “She’s a snake, her tongue is not just forked, but poisoned, too. Zane could take a few lessons with her in messing with people’s heads.” The dark, conflicted scowl on her features was enough warning to not take the Sergeant’s presence lightly.

“She’s that bad?” Richard asked with a frown.

“She’s worse. Dahlia is like the mental torturer equivalent to the Mord’Sith’s physical one. Her fascination with the Sisters of the Agiel was always an unhealthy one… it’s no secret that she is Rahl’s master tactician.”

Rubbing her cheeks wearily, Kahlan exhaled a deep sigh. “So we just hit the jackpot, huh?” At Cara’s expressionless face, she let her shoulders drop. “Can you deal with her? Or do you have any idea what she wants?”

“Oh, Dahlia is easy to handle if you know what to do.” Cara shifted her gaze to the side as if hiding something. “We… have a history together. But I believe she really is here to do exactly what she told you: To deliver Rahl’s greetings. He likes messing with our minds with that seemingly simple and innocent gesture.”

“Politics, I’ll never get the hang of them,” Richard added with a frustrated click of his tongue.

“Actually you should, immediately, if you’re going to marry the Mother Confessor and ruler of the Midlands,” the blonde reprimanded him with a piercing look and Richard ducked his head. “I will keep an eye on Dahlia.” With that she turned and marched away, the crowd parting to let her through.

Dahlia’s and Cara’s glances found each other as if fate directed them. The blonde stayed calm, cold, unattached. Dahlia acknowledged her passing with an incline of her head and a small smirk, yet her eyes captured the beautifully dressed Mord’Sith with hunger and a promise to meet soon.

Kahlan caught the look and clenched her jaw in uneasy anger.

A flock of Aydindril’s nobles kept the Sergeant busy this night, so that Kahlan and the others could refrain from talking to her again at least for a while. Giving the Home Guard instructions which rooms the D’Haran guests would move into, she also added that everyone was supposed to keep an eye on them without outright spying on what everyone perceived as the enemy.

It was when Cara walked back from inspecting the training of the guards the next day that she found herself face to face with her old lover beneath the soft, silent fall of fresh snow.

“Dahlia,” Cara spoke with a hint of guardedness.

“Cara,” the other woman replied with what was full of emotion. Winter covered all with its cruel, glistening blanket that suffocated the life on earth and all the white and gray that had the area in its grasp was the right frame for the younger D’Haran, emphasizing the smooth planes of her features and the unscrupulousness that lurked inside. Highlighting the glimmer of devotion in brown eyes that Cara had once loved to see in the throes of ecstasy.

“Have you come to play your little mind games at a court yet untouched by your talents?” she hissed, trying not to let the past dictate her actions.

“It is true that Lord Rahl send me… but I was just waiting for a chance to meet you again. To feel you again.” Dahlia surged forward with eager yearning, encasing Cara’s cold cheek with a gloved hand. The leather was pleasantly smooth and soft, with soft fur covering the top layer that caressed her skin. The Mord’Sith had to force herself not to snatch the hand away despite it.

“You know that the two of us are long past.”

“That doesn’t change what I feel for you. It never will,” Dahlia murmured, her fingers gliding down to where Cara’s collar bone was hidden beneath the neck guard of her armor. “Why have you turned away from your true Lord Rahl? Why have you turned away from me?”

“Richard is the true Lord Rahl.” Not able to withstand the pull to her former lover, she placed her own hand on top of Dahlia’s. “And if you stayed and saw what he does, what he tries to achieve, you would acknowledge it just as well.”

There was a visible hardening to Dahlia’s eyes and she lowered her lids in distaste. “You’re blinded, Cara. He mused about re–breaking you, you know… maybe he isn’t wrong about the fact that you have grown soft, too soft to see the truth in front of you.” She stepped nearer, flush against the Mord’Sith and Cara’s breath hitched at the long missed contact. It had been so long ago…

“What can you achieve here? Come with me and we can serve Darken Rahl together. I’m his consultant now… if we rekindle our relationship and stand before him together, there will be no more need for secrecy.”

“Are you once again trying to drag me back into your schemes?” Cara snapped, trying to appear unattached to Dahlia’s words. But there was a small spark in her at the thought of sharing the dark blonde’s bed again, a silent yearning. They had known each other for so many years… she owed the Sergeant her life, her sanity, for surviving in the Mord’Sith dungeons.

But the spark was small. And it was nothing against the tower engulfed in flames that was the love she had for Kahlan and her daughter.

She pushed the D’Haran away with the whole length of her forearm, flaring her nostrils at the flash of betrayal in Dahlia’s eyes. “I will not return to Darken Rahl, not for you, not for anyone. You played your cards wrong, Dahlia, and you lost me when trying to include me in your little games. But you forgot that I can see through you,” she hissed and placed her face near that one of the indignant woman. “And I will make you suffer if you try to do the same in Aydindril, believe me.”

Before Dahlia could make a scathing comment at the near–sightedness of the woman she still loved, a soldier shouted down to them from the door to the inner wall and distracted them.

“Mistress Cara, I was send by the Mother Confessor to tell you that your child is waiting for you in the training hall.”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” she replied, both annoyed and relieved at the interruption of their argument, her head snapping back to Dahlia only to see the woman with an open mouth and her eyes wide in shock.

“That’s… impossible, your child… he isn’t…” It was a sight to see the woman known for her clever tongue stumble over her own words.

“What? He? What the heck are you talking about?”

Dahlia had her composure back in the fraction of a second, pressing her lips together and glancing at the Mord’Sith with calculation. “I know for a fact that your child with Darken Rahl was killed after you delivered him.”

There was only a small stab of pain in her chest at this, knowing that her other child was safe behind the castle walls, healthier than a young foal. She sneered at the Sergeant. “Well, maybe there are things you don’t yet know about me. A little piece of information you can bring to your beloved Darken Rahl like the deranged, devoted puppy you are.”

Bristling at the insult, Dahlia could only watch how Cara swiveled around and sauntered towards where she was needed and where she didn’t have to justify her choices in life. Dahlia was a part of her past, a nostalgic longing in her heart for something that was long gone. They were both too changed and twisted to ever find the pure emotion that had helped them in their struggle for survival in the Mord’Sith dungeon and the barracks of Rahl’s army.

She would not dirty her hands with the touch of Dahlia Hawthorne again, after all that the D’Haran regime had done to her. Not if she could avoid it.

“And Dahlia?” Cara threw over her shoulder, her voice so sweet and husky that she could see the other woman’s lip twitch in sudden want. “Just so that you don’t have to corrupt the castle staff’s sanity for it… my child is a girl.”

She left the Sergeant standing in the middle of the falling snow, wishing the white flakes to erase the steps in the world and in her heart that lead to a now dead young girl with soft brown eyes and a truthful smile that had stolen her first kiss.

Part 23

“Higher!” Cara shouted and slammed her Agiel down against Noa’s as the girl quickly complied to the command. They seamlessly fell into an exchange of blows, stepping foward and back, with Cara occasionally yelling out when she saw Noa’s openings and small mistakes and then witnessed how the smaller blonde closed them faster than her mother was able to hit the spots after calling on them.

Even though Noa now fought with an Agiel and a wooden dagger, instead of two daggers like on Darza, she used her whole body for evasion and attacks, always in movement and never tiring of her constant change of delivering hits. What she lacked in strength she made up for a dozen times with her ridiculous speed, attacking with weapons, hands, knees, elbows, feet… the girl was a whirlwind of painful jabs and Cara only pushed her further past her limits.

While the Mord’Sith was used to it, the combination of tumbling and fighting prowess would be a nasty surprise for every enemy Noa would have to face someday. She had her problems when it came to learning theoretical topics, especially everything concerning what a Confessor needed to know, but it was as if the girl was born for this.

Richard could only watch dejectedly from the side. Not even the experience the Sword of Truth gave him could match the height of body control Noa presented here in the training hall. He craned his neck when he heard someone walk closer.

“Oh, Zedd.” He nodded his chin at the two fighters. “Have you seen this yet? Spirits, it’s just crazy what they are doing in there.”

“Yes, it appears that motion is the girl’s area of expertise,” the wizard replied and watched the display with growing respect. “If only her interest in court dealings would be as pronounced.”

“Give her time, you’re not becoming the perfect ruler over night. I can fully understand why she dreads the thought of leading an entire country.”

Zedd raised his eyebrows at that, placing his elbow into the palm of his hand. “I’m quite aware that you dislike the fact that you’re a Rahl. Yet I know for proof that you would be a good ruler, Richard.”

The Seeker just sighed, leaning his head back. “Maybe. But that doesn’t change that I wouldn’t like it anyway.”

“That’s what you think now,” Zedd corrected with a small grin, remembering the time he spend in the other reality and turning back to the fight.

They had stopped trying to beat each other, the younger blonde stretching her limbs and Cara wiping away the sweat on her brow, both gasping heavily for oxygen after the intense work–out.

“Poor Kahlan.” Richard gave a wry smile. “She’s stuck behind the desk since two days. All the paper work that piled up in the last year since the other Confessors died… and Prince Fyren left behind a bureaucratic disaster in the city’s documents. I’m sure she would love a sparring match just as much as her kid.”

His grandfather slapped a hearty hand on his back, knowing that the boy was quite correct in his assumption. Kahlan had been busy since the day they had come back from their journey and worked hard to fit into her role as the Midlands highest ranked person. She may have been a Mother Confessor candidate since her youth and thus enabled to wear the white Confessor dress, but she had not been forced to deal with the rule of Aydindril all by herself until yet.

“So then, my Mord’Sith friends, shall we proceed with our next training?” Zedd let his voice echo into the hall, alerting both women to their observers.

“What training?” Noa shouted back, looking with interest at the wizard and her mother. She pulled a face. “It’s not some kind of law stuff, isn’t it?”

Cara smirked at the horror bubbling up in her daughter, tipping one of her Agiels distractedly against her upper leg. “No, it’s not.” There was a sigh of relief. “Although you are part Mord’Sith, I suspect you have not yet learned to wield this side of your powers.”

Noa dragged her fingers through her hair, pushing the unruly strands out of her vision. As she was a Confessor and Mord’Sith, her mothers had decided that she needed to grow her hair out again, since it was a symbol of status and strength. Used to the short length, Noa had obviously been unhappy with the decision. But there was no way she could talk back to both her mothers. “So what do I have to do? And what part are you talking about?”

Waving the wizard over to her side, Cara pushed the rods back in their holster and indicated Noa to do the same while she stepped a few feet away. “We will see if you are able to manipulate the energy that magic users throw in your direction. Female Mord’Sith children are born with the power to capture and manipulate the magic power that is used against her.”

Looking up from where she replaced her weapons, Noa puffed a strand of her hair out of the way. “Oh. I didn’t know that. What about the Breath of Life? That would be some neat stuff to have.”

Zedd could only smirk at her language, knowing it would make Kahlan plead to the heavens in desperation.

“Only Mord’Sith that are broken three times will gain the Breath of Life, as well as the ability to control other magic,” Cara explained with a raised eyebrow.

“Broken?” Noa furrowed her nose at the unpleasant information. “Three times? Oh boy.”

“First you yourself are broken until you submit. Then someone you care about will be tortured to death in front of your eyes. And last but not least you kill the person you care about most with your own hands,” the older blonde stated flatly.

Noa licked her lips, glancing to the side. “I, uh, guess that will better be out of the question then.”

“That’s what I thought.” Cara set her shoulders, stepping next to Zedd. “Let’s concentrate on this lecture now.”

“I will send light blasts in your direction and you will try to push them back to me. As most redirected magic is stronger than initially, Cara is going to take care of my well–being.” He smirked at the Mord’Sith, receiving only a dry look in return.

“Just watch out that I’m not accidently ‘missing’ an attack,” she taunted in return.

“So what am I supposed to do? Stand here and wave my arms?” Noa demonstrated her words with said motion, causing Richard to laugh from where he watched the proceedings.

Cara glared at them both until they stopped fooling around, pointing a finger at her daughter. “You will try to discern the Mord’Sith magic in you from the others. It should react to outside energies, so if the chaos magic doesn’t temper too much with it, you will be able to feel it.”

Sighing, the younger blonde took an easier stance, shaking out her hands. “Okay, fine. Let’s try it and hope I won’t blast away the hall or something.”

“I’m going to be careful,” Zedd calmed her and raised his palm in her direction. “Ready?”

At Noa’s nod, a ripple erupted from his fingers into the air in an outward motion, grabbing the dust on the floor with its unseen tendrils and rushing towards the girl with a loud whoosh that send their hair and clothes flying, until it pressed with restrained pressure against the smaller frame, before deflagrating into a calm breeze.

“Well?” Cara asked into the wondering silence, “did you feel anything?”

“Yeah, a great, big tingling emotion of nothing.” Noa dragged her top back in its correct position and dusted the cloth off. “It didn’t work.”

Zedd rubbed his chin in thought. “I suspect it’s harder for you to tell the difference in the mess of magic in your body. Let’s try again, maybe you feel something after a while.”

Ten blasts later Noa not only appeared quite rumpled, but was also quickly loosing her interest in the exercise. By now there was no dust left she could brush off from herself.

“There was a small twinge, but I can’t grasp it. It’s too slippery,” Noa moaned, interlacing her fingers behind her neck. “Maybe we should just try it another time. I’m still fit for a match.”

“Oh, no no no, we won’t abandon this so soon, not with you managing to finally feel the energy. Zedd, once again.”

Noa sighed again, not even bothering to free her hands to stop the energy that would hit her soon. The magical blasts were tamed down to feel like a strong gust of wind and since she was convinced that her control over her own powers was less than lacking, she didn’t have the will to try anymore.

But she didn’t count on her mother’s creativeness. When Zedd raised his hand to once again fuel the power for the attack, Cara slammed her elbow into his side the second she could feel the magic leaving his fingertips. Ripped out of his concentration and losing the grip he had on the spell, he could feel the restraint on it slip and dissolve into nothing.

Instead of a strong gust it was a concussive force that crashed in Noa’s direction, the floor almost cracking at the strength with which the spell stampeded over it, the loud noise it released nearly blowing out their eardrums.

They caught a glimpse of Noa’s sudden wide eyed look before the wild, destructive force was on her. But instead of rushing the girl off her feet, the rippling, howling blast suddenly altered its course within a blink, causing the Seeker to drop to the ground in a hurry when the spell flew over and past his back, taking with it a part of the fence and blowing the wall apart that was behind him.

Once the resulting smoke, saw dust and stone particles had cleared out of the air, they could only stare in shock at the man sized hole that Richard was slowly standing up in front of.

“Oops,” was the only thing Noa could exclaim stunned, her eyes riveted to the wall.

Richard turned towards her with a wordless frown, gripping his hips and giving her a pointed look.

“Sorry. Wasn’t personal,” she added while scratching her neck.

“So much about the ‘I can’t grasp it’ part,” Cara commented dryly. She had been sure that Noa had lacked the right amount of motivation to really try.

“Next time please without the life threatening situations, Mom,” Noa grumbled back. But then her gaze turned downward and she gazed at her fingers in wonder. “Wow. Didn’t expect it to work. It’s like pushing away a ball… well, a really, really huge, deadly ball. With spikes and fire and all that.”

“The most important thing is that you know how to use it when it comes down to it,” Zedd wheezed, rubbing his throbbing side. “And next time you pull a stunt like that, Cara, it would be nice to ask first and hit me later.”

“Sorry, wasn’t personal,” Cara replied with an innocent look that had the older man glower at her.

From outside there was a loud coughing and they all turned to see a dust covered Zane climb through the hole, the afternoon light around his frame making him appear like some kind of freshly deceased ghost. “What in the Creator’s name was that? Are you all trying to kill me?”

“Oh geez, I didn’t hit you, did I?” Noa asked with concern, rushing over to her best friend to check if he had any wounds.

“No, I’m fine.. it’s just my fashion–consciousness that’s bruised.” He held up his arms and looked down at the official uniform he wore, made from Aydindril’s colors and now sporting a bland, new coating of gray. “I’d say that one’s ruined.”

The young man proceeded to brush away the debris with the girl’s help, glancing at the occupants of the training hall. “Maybe you should place a warning sign out there next time: ‘Careful, innocent bystanders, wall parts will occasionally fly through the air.’ Geez, way to scare a few years of life off my back.”

Noa could only smirk at Zane’s usual tirade of complaining and her mother’s resulting eye roll. “You okay, too, Richard?”

“Yep. I’m even less bruised than our fashion man here,” Richard answered with a grin, earning himself a dark look from Zane.

“Haha, funny. I’ll go save my laugh for later. Can we go eat now? I need some food after that shock.”

No amount of Mord’Sith commands would be able to keep Noa and Zedd from following that suggestion and they traipsed back into the main part of the castle, the dusty advisor earning a few confused glances at his new look. He had wanted to show Noa his new suit in its full glory, which was the only good part about learning the subjects needed to become a good advisor, but unfortunately the effect was now ruined by the dirt. The girl was happy for him anyway.

Cara took a seat next to the woman of her secret dreams without a second thought, causing Richard to redirect his first choice of sitting down to the spot on Kahlan’s other side and opposite the Mord’Sith, yet refrained from saying anything about that. Noa sat down next to her blonde mother, next to her Zane. Zedd plopped down next to his grandson.

The Mother Confessor, seated on the head of the table, smiled in the direction of the two blondes and spared a bemused look in Zane’s direction. “How did your training go?”

“Successful, as indicated by my clothes,” the newly appointed advisor stated flatly, washing the taste of dust out of his mouth with a sip of wine.

“She is at least able to redirect magic, even though it took a little… prompting,” Cara explained, daring Zedd, who cleared his throat discreetly, to spare any details.

“Good news, I guess.” Kahlan started on her own meal with vigor, glad for the respite before she had to return to her duties. “How are your other lectures, Noa?”

“Fabl’us,” the girl ground out between bits of chicken, gravy and potatoes. She almost swallowed the bite down the wrong way when Cara slapped the back of her head. Seething slightly, Noa cleared her mouth carefully. “I mean… fabulous,” she grumbled. Mother and daughter glared at each other out of the corner of squinted eyes.

Normal small–talk resumed, but it was when everyone was full that Noa and Zedd still had an unspoken challenge going over who could inhale most of the left–over food in the shortest time. There was one leg of chicken left and the others shared a meaningful look, then went back to watching the scenario unfold with quiet amusement.

Both the wizard and the young blonde shot out their appendage to snatch the last piece. When it came to food the older man was well versed to match the girl in speed and so both of them had a firm grip on the bone protruding from the tasty flesh.

“Give me that. I still need to grow.”

“But you’re young and healthy, you can deal with a bit less sustenance better than me.”

“Yeah, and you’re old, you don’t need the nourishment anymore.”

“Respect your elders, whelp!”

“You’re not my elder, geezer!”

It was a typical and friendly rivalry thing they had going there. Zane and Cara watched with unhidden smirks, while Kahlan hid a laugh behind her hand. Richard could only shake his head with a grin.

Old and young were locked in a battle of wills, their grip on the bone white–knuckled. Sometimes the leg would tilt a bit to the left, then right again, before it came to a rest in the middle and the pull started from the beginning. It was a battle of titans.

Everyone froze when a deep, feral growl erupted from Noa’s chest and filled the whole room with its promise of danger. It sounded real enough that the wizard was taken by surprise and let go of the chicken leg, the girl grasping the chance without second thought and sinking her teeth into the flesh with a twinkle of green and blue.

She stopped chewing when all looks were directed at her in the resulting lack of motion. “What?”

“Not quite sounding like a cub anymore, hm?”

“It’s about food,” was Noa’s only explanation to her blonde mother while resuming her munching.

With everyone finally sated, they returned to the common room. The wizard forced his underlings to a game of chess, with Richard on one side and Noa and Zane on the other side, as Noa fully lacked the concentration and the planning ahead to win a game. But it was a good chance for the future Mother Confessor and her advisor to work together without using many words.

Kahlan was watching Cara secretly and had the feeling that something was… not exactly wrong, but it seemed that the Mord’Sith was thinking too hard, not concentrating on what happened around her, but rather watching her inner goings. Sitting down next to her, she watched as troubled green snapped up to her.

“You okay?”

Cara sucked her teeth in annoyance at the thought she couldn’t let go. “Yes. No. It’s just… there is something Dahlia said today that has me confused.”

“You’re not getting pulled into one of her mind games, are you?” Kahlan felt a cold sensation crawl up her spine at that thought. If the Sergeant was getting even to Cara, then she was much more dangerous than they had believed.

“No, no… I know her too well for that.” With a deep breath, Cara decided to explain, the chess players listening tentatively with one ear. “She wants me back in D’Hara, which in itself is no real surprise. It was when someone called to me about my child that she seemed shocked. Dahlia thought the caller meant my child with Darken Rahl.”

“But, your son is dead, isn’t he?” Zedd threw in with a frown.

Cara’s eyes bored into his. “How do you know things like that, wizard?”

“I have my resources,” he only replied mysteriously. “But I can tell that Dahlia successfully lured us away with the promise of your son in danger in another reality.” They all knew know that Cara had a child with the cruel lord, having expected Noa to be the result of that. With the girl being Cara’s and Kahlan’s daughter, they hadn’t thought about the other one again.

“So what’s the deal here? The boy is dead, isn’t he? I mean, even I can see that that’s tragic and all, but… why is it riling you up?” Zane looked down when he felt Noa’s glare on himself. He simply shrugged. “I’m just asking.”

Richard scrunched up his face in anger at his brother. Killing newborns seemed to be his favourite past time hobby.

“I don’t know,” Cara admitted, rubbing the tips of her fingers against her brow, chancing a glance at the Mother Confessor who was gliding a comforting hand down her back. “It’s long past.”

“You saw him dying?” Noa asked with a sad face. “He… would’ve been my half–brother.”

“No. They took him from me the second he was born and although I expected them to kill the child, I never knew until today.”

Everyone shook their heads, trying to clear themselves from the dark memories. The boy was lost and there was nothing they could do to change that now, other than trying to find a way to push Darken Rahl from his throne once and for all. Concentrating back on the game, no one saw Noa furrow her brow in deep thought.

“Let’s place the horse here,” Zane told her and reached forward to do so.

“That… makes no sense.”

Blinking, the advisor viewed the battle ground once again. “Of course it does. If we move the horse, the tower can go down here and then–…”

“Ah, no, not the game,” Noa quickly interrupted, waving her hands. “What they did with my half–brother. It makes no sense.” She found everyone’s attention moving towards her and decided to explain.

“From all that you told me about the Mord’Sith, they are the most loyal of Rahl. And cruel as no other human being. Why would they just sneak away with the newborn child to kill him without a word? Even if he was an unwanted heir? Why let Mom even go so far in her pregnancy to bear him if a female child was useless and a male unwanted?”

Zedd opened his mouth in honest surprise. “Actually, you’re right. All the missing pieces… not taunting Cara with the death of her child until today. Letting him be born. Carrying him away instead of killing him in front of her eyes. Back then, in the other reality, Rahl taunted you with the death of your son, but that was while he tried to break you.”

Clenching her fists, Cara found anger and hate mingling in her stomach, directed at the one man that had nearly destroyed her beyond recognition. “What are you trying to say?”

“Mom, I think my half–brother is alive. Raised somewhere in secret, so that they can keep him save and he won’t get the idea to take over from Rahl too soon, and where they can kill him without a big fuss if he turns out wrong,” Noa quietly told the older blonde.

“And Dahlia knows it,” Zane added with conviction, “otherwise she might have reacted differently at the information that your child is here.”

“It makes sense.” Kahlan placed her hand on Cara’s shoulder, seeing that the blonde was nearing an eruption. “Cara, maybe we should talk to her tomorrow…”

“No. I will get her and talk to her alone… I know exactly how I can make her spit out what I want,” the Mord’Sith growled and Kahlan was unsure if she wanted to know what would happen.

“You’re not going to torture her..?”

“Oh, not quite.” The blonde’s eyes glazed over, shutting out Kahlan and the rest of the world. The Mother Confessor felt unsure all of a sudden, scared, for the well–being of Cara’s soul. She vowed to herself not to leave the Mord’Sith out of the range of her vision the coming day, lest she’d do something she might regret.

By the time Zane had beaten Richard in the chess game, Noa was quietly snoring under her breath on the ground, Cara had retreated to bed and Zedd was ready to turn in, too. Standing up to cradle the sleeping girl on her arms, Kahlan bid them good night and left the common room behind.

She walked slowly through the empty halls, only meeting the occasional duty–bound guard or a servant that still worked at this time of the night. The weight of her daughter was a soothing one and the brunette could only marvel at the feeling of carrying her own offspring. In spring she would turn fourteen… into a young woman.

“It’s sad that we couldn’t watch you grow up,” Kahlan whispered to the sleeper when she had reached the tumbler’s chamber. One wall was filled with big, clear windows and although the room actually wasn’t fit for a young Confessor, it was the only one that Noa didn’t feel claustrophobic in. She had never lived in a big house before, let alone the biggest castle in the Midlands, and staying for weeks on end in one place was something Noa wasn’t used to anymore.

Gently laying the girl down on the comforter, the brunette watched with a smirk as the blonde curled up in a ball the second Kahlan let her go. Pushing one of the braids out of the way, she stroked the tanned cheek with the back of her fingers.

“Your first word, your first step… we missed all that.” She sat down on the mattress and watched the play of the moonlight on her daughter’s frame. There was so much of both her parents in the girl… and still she was her own, individual being and it warmed Kahlan’s heart to have her near.

“And yet… if I could chose to have you as a baby and change things from the beginning… I would refuse. You’re just fine as you are, my sweet. I wouldn’t want to change you for the world, just as I wouldn’t want to change your other mother. In any single way.”

Pressing a kiss on the crown of honey hair, the Mother Confessor glanced down at the girl one last time with a content smile. “We’ll take care of your Mom, okay? Protect her from herself. Sleep well, Noa, may the Spirits watch over your dreams.”

As if hearing her words, Noa buried her face deeper into the comforter while the brunette placed a blanket over her, exhaling softly into the night.

Knowing her daughter safe ensured that Kahlan could find some much needed sleep, even with her concern about Cara troubling her thoughts.

Part 24

“I’m going to teach you the basics of sword–fighting from now on. You may be Noa’s advisor and she can handle a fight pretty well, but it’s better to be save than sorry.”

Zane pressed his tongue against the upper side of his teeth, not very amused by the whole concept. He was a musician and a talker, playing with weapons had not been on his ‘things I want to do before dying’ list. Maybe he could fit it in somewhere between ‘planting a tree’ and ‘getting an actual king to walk naked along the King’s Row’. And taught by the Seeker himself? That would at least create a fabulous pick–up line.

“So, what am I supposed to do?”

“Grab one of the swords on the rack.”

“Which end do I need to hold?”

Richard raised an amused eyebrow. “Funny. Get moving, you smart–ass.”

With a theatrical sigh that told of numerous burdens and immense self–pity, Zane grabbed the nearest sword and did a few trial swings while joining the Seeker on the training grounds.

Showing him some basic steps and then walking him through a few dry runs, they crossed their blades for the first times after an hour, the two of them moving in slow–motion with the Hartlander explaining what he did, why he did it and how Zane had to react.

After another hour, Zane sat on the ground, panting and holding his aching arm.

“Spirits, you’re not used to anything at all, eh?” Richard wondered with a smile and a trace of pity for the young man.

“You know what I used that arm for the last years? Pointing out who had to do what for me. It’s really fantastic for the mental health, you should try it sometimes,” the advisor replied dryly.

“I thought you were a musician?”

“Next to my ex–job as co–director, I write music and play the flute. That’s not exactly an acronym for ‘axe–wielding’, you know.”

Letting out a guffaw at Zane’s sarcasm, Richard sat down next to him, offering his waterskin to the exhausted man. “You’re worse than Cara when she joined us for the first time. Isn’t there anything that intimidates you? Aren’t you scared someone might take it the wrong way that you’re this… honest?”

“The worst is a fist demolishing my handsome face. I’m only that biting to people that can handle it… or that know me. It’s not like I called you a dimwit the moment I met you.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “No. You only did that on the second day.”

“See! Because I knew you could handle it.” Zane flashed the Seeker a charming smile. “And I can be pretty tame when I have to or it’s useful for me. I mean, who else would’ve been able to talk the guard into showing me if he could still see my torchlight from the bottom of the well?”

“We needed an hour to get him out of there. Now the poor man is scared of small spaces.”

“Aww, he’ll get better. And to answer your initial question… I’m scared of a lot of things. Dozens. I simply won’t let it dictate my life.” Taking a drag from the waterskin, gray eyes seemed to gaze into the hall, but actually saw a time and place far, far away. “When my family died in the war because I was to scared to do anything, it nearly destroyed me. I’m cautious, yes, because I value my life, but I’m not hiding behind my fear anymore. Never again.” He turned to grin at the Seeker. “And it’s just too much fun to jab at some people’s tender spots and see how far I can go… it’s like a hobby.”

Richard reached forward, squeezing Zane’s shoulder while seeing the young man with new eyes. “Changing yourself like that… that’s admirable, Zane. You learned from your mistakes and became a better man. You’re strong.”

“Please try to forget that the next time you’re hammering on my sword like a madman, okay?”

“It was a tap.”

“You call that a tap? What are you, the Seeker of New Definitions?”

Richard scoffed, then sighed deeply, a shadow crawling over his face. “I wish I was.”

Perking up at that, the younger man scooted closer. “That sounds like a story. What’s wrong, snoop?”

“Stop calling me that. It’s Seeker, not snoop.”

“Same difference. Now spill.” Zane bopped the Seeker’s shoulder with his own, seeing that the man was burdened with something. And if it kept them from getting back to their training soon, who was he to let that opportunity slip by?

“It’s… Kahlan.”

“Oh, woman trouble.”

“Can’t you be serious for a minute?”

“Serious rhymes with delirious and that’s never a good thing. You talk, I listen, deal?”

Accepting the chance to tell someone else about his trouble other than his grandfather, who was a bit biased by the fact that he cared about Kahlan just as much as him – although Richard would never hold that past him – it felt good to let out some steam. He proceeded to tell Zane about his past, how he met Kahlan, what they went through, how much he loved her. That he would do anything for her.

“I thought a marriage was the perfect way to cheer her up. With Cara missing and Shota telling us about this damned conception of a male Confessor, she was so depressed and drawn into herself. It changed when Cara came back, but Cara was burdened herself and so Kahlan spend so much time trying to help her. I love that about her, her will to help her friends in whichever way possible.”

He sighed, scratching at his short cropped hair, thinking off everything that had happened.

“Then I asked for her hand. She said Yes and I was… spirits, I felt so lucky. For her, for me… for us. Like nothing could stand in our way as long as we were together. I thought it would bring her happiness. And then there was the revelation about Noa… and you have to believe me, although it was a shock, I was so happy for them all. I love Noa as if she were my own niece.”

Zane could see Richard’s jaw working hard, eyes stormy, and knew that more was hidden there, that more would be coming forth. He watched in silence, smart gray eyes ever seeing what others didn’t, ever calculating and cunning. Knowing what Richard would say before he had spoken it out loud.

“But… everything changed. I hoped that with the two of us married, we would find back to the closeness we had, have a family together. Now I think that even after the marriage… Kahlan already found her family, with me as useless embellishment. Watching from the sidelines, but never a part.”

He turned his sad gaze towards Zane, helpless. “We’re drifting apart. I’m losing her, if maybe not as a friend, then as my love and I don’t know what I can do to reverse it, how I can keep her close to me. And I also don’t know why. I’m scared to use my powers as Seeker to see the full truth in her, although they tell me constantly that something is wrong. Changed. I… fear whatever the reason is, it’s going to destroy me.”

Both mulled over their thoughts for a while, watching the dusty soil beneath their feet and the glimmer of light dancing on the blades. Richard was fighting with himself, with the darker side of his soul that every human being had somewhere inside of them and at the moment it seemed as if he was terrified of losing the struggle inside his mind. Maybe Zedd had been right… back then he had managed to quell and conquer the rage that fuelled the Sword of Truth, but what if it had only been one battle in what was actually an ever on–going war? One that could not be won or lost, only held at bay by a strong will that would tire eventually one day?

Then suddenly Zane started to speak, interrupting the darkness daring to flood his grim thoughts.

“There was a tale I learned in the Carnival,” he began, heedless of Richard’s confused look at the change of topic. “It was about a magical cat with a fur made from the finest gold. It visited one town after the other, strolling through the land. Many tried to lure it in, catch it and sell its fur to the highest bidder. They wanted to keep the cat for themselves, but all that tried failed and were cursed for the rest of their lives. Only those that freely gave it nourishment without a thought of keeping her caged or using any hair of it for themselves would find three years of luck visiting their house whenever the cat went on its way, making the people happy and rewarding them for their goodness.”

“So what does that have to do with me?”

“You really are a dimwit, aren’t you?”

Richard bristled and dragged his knees close, glowering.

Zane sighed and explained in detail. “Sabir made that story up, hoping that young men would learn to keep their hearts compassionate and refrain from abusing the women around them. Kahlan is the cat in this story, Richard. You can’t force her to stay and sometimes things change. If you keep her chained to you, you will grow unhappy for the rest of your life. But if you let her go freely, she either comes back to you… or you might get something beautiful in return for your selflessness. All without using the Seeker fancy–schmancy to scratch open her inner private thoughts.”

Gliding a hand over the characteristic detail on the hand guard of his weapon, Richard let the young man’s words settle in his mind, thinking them over. Finally he raised his head, looking at Zane now with a new kind of respect.

“I don’t think there is a better advisor Noa could wish for than you,” he said with a smile, although there was still sadness in him and a rage at losing the most precious thing he had ever held. It would take time and effort to get used to the idea that maybe Kahlan’s and his future as a pair was not as set in stone as he had believed. That maybe he had managed to convince even himself with something that wasn’t particularly true. It wouldn’t stop him from hoping that all went back to normal, though.

“Wizard’s First Rule,” he mumbled, “people will believe a lie because they want it to be true, or they’re afraid it’s true. I guess I want it to be true more than anyone.”

“Told you, snooper. Fits with the oafish stereotype of the woodcutters.”

Snatching his sword and jumping back on his feet, the renewed Seeker pushed all thoughts of his love aside and indicated with the tip of his sword and a twinkle in his eyes that Zane should stand back up and join the fight. That was the only outlet for his rage, if not for his sadness. “You’re not going to laugh for long once we’re done with the training.”

“Honey, I’ll be grinning even if you knock out each and every one of my perfect teeth. A few bruises is a piece of cake against that. And the ladies love it.”

To his dismay, Richard had to find out two hours later that even a fully exhausted, black and blue Zane had a tongue sharp enough to have him, the battle–hardened Seeker, fleeing for a break.

* * * * *

“Dahlia.”

The addressed woman looked up from where she wanted to bite into the piece of apple she had taken from the full table, hand still hovering in front of her lips, which curled at the sight in front of her. The excitement became more solid when she realized the stance and the unhidden meaning in the eyes of the one who had called her.

“Leave us alone,” Dahlia commanded in a sweet tone to her staff, the soldiers saluting briskly and leaving the area where the guests could fill their empty bellies. Most of the food was yet untouched and Dahlia turned towards Cara, twirling the fruit amused between her fingers.

“What gives me the honor of your presence, Cara?” she asked curiously, although one part of the answer she could already give herself. The Mord’Sith stood with her legs apart, one hand on her hip and the kind of fire in her lowered gaze that had the Sergeant shiver in anticipation.

Yet she couldn’t help but jab at her old lover, still miffed about the blonde insulting her after Dahlia tried to rekindle their relationship. “I didn’t expect you to deal with dimwitted puppies.” She stressed the last word.

Cara didn’t reply, only sauntered forward in a slow, sensual way that had Dahlia’s eyes riveted to leather clad hips until she was unable to look anywhere but cyan green, as the woman was now standing flush against her. The warmth of the blonde was diffusing through cloth and skin, pooling low in her belly.

“You’re not sulking because of a little tongue–lashing, are you?” Cara taunted back, the native roll of her D’Haran accent stretched to the brim, having Dahlia shiver with want at the tone. “I thought…” Cara went on under her breath, ducking her head, “…we were past such.. trivialities.” Encasing the raised fingers of Dahlia’s hand with her lips, the Mord’Sith grazed the digits with her teeth before sucking the apple piece into her mouth with a swipe of her tongue.

By now Dahlia was ready to devour her, as she took her time with chewing the tasty morsel. She was baiting the tactician, with a slow lick of her lips and a challenging rise of her eyebrow. Because for all the sweet poison in her mouth, her love for word–play and charming her way into other’s minds, twisting truths until they were bare mockery lies of their origin… Cara was the one, giant tear, the blatant weakness in Dahlia’s nearly flawless composure. The Mord’Sith knew her long–time lover like the leather stretched across her oldest Agiel.

It only took another moment and a meaningful rub of red armor against cloth for the Sergeant to break. Dahlia surged forward without hesitation, her fingertips clasping at the tanned neck and her lips seeking the plumb, red ones in reckless determination, pressing herself against the full length of Cara’s frame in a dominating gesture.

Cara let her have the lead for a heartbeat or two, letting the lustful exchange of kisses turn deeper, then seized her prey. Although she couldn’t deny that Dahlia’s ministrations stroked a similar, nostalgic heat in her insides, Cara was too much in control of her mind and actions to let it cloud her judgment. And the fire of passion and want was nothing in the face of red–hot anger that clawed at her boundaries… not yet sure if the dark blonde really knew about her son maybe being alive or not.

But she would find out.

Her lips still locked with the other woman’s, Cara grabbed Dahlia’s hips and raised her up, a low growl in her throat. The other woman knew that intercourse with a Mord’Sith was as rough and painful as it was passionate and she didn’t question when the blonde changed the direction towards the table and carried Dahlia over, too lost in the taste and feel of her lover.

She did flinch though with a barely suppressed scream when Cara slammed her back down on the table top, not bothering to wipe away cutlery and dishes, the sound of glass breaking sweet music in the red–clad woman’s ears and the heavy tang of fresh blood filling her flared nostrils and senses like a macabre perfume.

“Stop squirming,” the Mord’Sith ground out against Dahlia’s panting breath, “I know you like me giving you pain. A pity that they didn’t make you strong… make you Mord’Sith.”

Dahlia groaned and tried to buck, to relieve the pressure on her bruised back. Yet she was pushed back down forcefully when Cara glided her right hand harshly up her body, over her breasts, and gripped her shoulder tightly, thumb digging into the dip above her collarbone. Then the Mord’Sith was over her again, kissing her breath away mercilessly.

The heady bliss Dahlia was in, the incredible mixture of pain and pleasure, was something she had dreamed about for over two years, after Cara sought out the distance between them. No lover had ever come close to the inferno the talented blonde could stoke in her, no one knew how to go too far with her just like that, no one knew so well what spots to bruise and which to soothe.

“Cara,” she gasped out against the other woman, “I’ve wanted this since…so long.”

Closing off the tacticians mouth, Cara kissed her harshly until Dahlia shivered with need for oxygen and clawed at her back in both craving and fear. With the dark blonde’s lungs pumping hard, Cara hissed down into her ear, her free hand slipping beneath the red–black cloth of the pinned woman’s top and over soft flesh.

“And now, if you don’t want me to stop, you will tell me about my son that Darken Rahl is raising.”

Would Dahlia not be completely out of breath, it would’ve hitched in shock. But her train of thought was messy, foggy, suffocated beneath the lust filled haze that had her in its grip. No amount of scheming and intrigues could compare to sexual activities with Cara.

“No,” she could only moan in a feeble show of denial.

Such weak defense. You’re no match for me, puppy.

Without replying, the blonde buried her teeth in Dahlia’s neck until the skin broke beneath her ministrations. Gathering the ruby blood drops on the flat of her tongue, she pressed upwards again, prying the other woman’s mouth open and letting her taste the metallic liquid. Dahlia’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head when the length of Cara’s muscle rolled against hers feverishly.

“Tell me,” Cara purred, her lips even more red from the blood, “you know you want to. Because it’s me.”

“I… can’t,” Dahlia forced out with chagrin, her body taut with yearning for her old lover. “I.. don’t.. Cara…”

Tableware clinked and fell over in a heap when Cara grabbed one of the Sergeant’s tense legs and raised it up against her side, thigh clasping against her ribs. She dragged the other woman’s lower body flush against her own and rolled her hips into Dahlia’s in such a salacious way that it had the dark blonde cry out in pleasure and loose all restraint.

“His name’s Damon!” Dahlia shouted out, barely able to keep up with gasping for air. It was like an instant razor blade traveling down across Cara’s spine, breaking open skin and leaving her her nerve ends bare and aching. She almost snapped at that, realizing that her lover had lied to her all this time.

Betrayer!

It was a wild twirl of iron will, training and anger that kept her going instead of slamming Dahlia’s head against the table until her screams and sobs echoed from the walls without any trace of pleasure.

“Where is he?” Cara growled with a sensual lick of the tactician’s neck. Her eyes caught a trace of something in the distant door that nearly had her freeze in panic, but the need to get the information was stronger. The love and hate in her veins directed at the writhing woman beneath her was too much of a heady mixture to stop now. What she would have given to have Dahlia hanging right now from the shackles in the Mord’Sith dungeons…

“In D’Hara… somewhere…” She moaned deeply when Cara pressed into the center of her heat once again. “Changes place… irregularly… since he is the heir… he’s ten… oh Spirits! I don’t know where…” Gulping down a breath, Dahlia clasped her hand in the long, golden hair. She let go when Cara pressed her thigh until it hurt.

“Good,” Cara murmured. Ice cold, controlled. Passionless.

And suddenly Dahlia was left panting on the table, with shards of glass embed into the skin of her back and a bleeding bite mark on her chest, with no warm body against her own. Confused at the sudden change and still hazy from her raging passion, she never saw the flat palm coming.

The slap against her cheek forced her back down on the table, on her side. A metallic plate with fitting cutlery crashed to the ground, followed by some of the food. More tableware joined the floor when Cara lashed out at Dahlia again and again, until the other woman sported a split lip and a purple, bruised cheek bone, with blood flowing out of her nose.

The green fury Dahlia could see past the pain in her face when she was dragged close to Cara had her mouth go dry in panic. For the first time since many years, the cruel Sergeant was afraid for her life.

“There is only one reason why I will let you live for lying to me for years and that is because you were once an actual human being and not a sadistic mockery of our Orden. You will tell no one in the Midlands what happened here, but once you stand before your master you can explain in great detail that his rogue Mord’Sith knows about her son and will make him pay.”

It was only her long past closeness to Dahlia that could make her loose control like this and the bitter thorn of betrayal stung like the meanest poison.

Letting Dahlia fall to the floor with a sneer of distaste, Cara washed her mouth clean of the tactician’s taste with a long swallow of an untouched wine mug.

“This isn’t the end,” Dahlia replied from were she was crouching on the dirty floor, wiping away the glistening red on her chin with a hand trembling in pure anger and loathing.

“Oh, I doubt it is,” Cara mocked, splashing the rest of the nearly purple alcohol on Dahlia’s head, making the humiliation complete. “There’s something on your face,” she sneered and marched away, leaving behind a spurned woman that was trembling with rage and a promise of revenge while her flesh still throbbed with want and unfound release.

* * * * *

Kahlan paced down the empty, nearly unused top floor for what felt like the thousandth time, shaken. There was a dozen Confessor mantras in her head that she repeated. Repeated, repeated and repeated.

It didn’t keep away the stirring image of Cara taking the D’Haran emissary right on top of the table like a feral animal.

A history together, sure. I’ll keep an eye on her, of course. I will get her and talk to her… that didn’t look like talking to me! The Mother Confessor stopped and groaned in frustration at herself, dragging at the roots of her hair with both hands in endless frustration.

Jealousy. That was the problem at hand here and it was neither Kahlan’s right nor place to even feel it.

If Cara wanted to tumble with an ‘old friend’ or whatever this Dahlia Hawthorne was, then it was her complete right to do so. She trusted Cara enough that the Mord’Sith would not divulge any secrets or betray Richard and the others, not with all that had happened. Not with her hate of Darken Rahl going strong.

But what got to Kahlan the most was the fact that Cara had shown such blatant sexual interest in a woman. A woman. Although it was common knowledge that Mord’Sith used their sexuality just as much as a weapon as the Agiels, after the blonde’s seeming interest in Leo the revelation came as a surprise. No, not as surprise… more like a punch in the gut to open her eyes to the unveiled facts.

Kahlan had told herself again and again that they could never be, that Cara would not want her because of a thousand different reasons… her being a woman only one of them. Now it was one less reason to believe there was no chance for something and, even worse, it put the kiss Cara had given her after the marriage proposal into a much different complexion.

A much less friendly and even less platonic one.

Spirits, what she would have given to be the woman beneath the blonde back then in the guest wing. Her pulse raced, her hands turned clammy and her body temperature rose just at the memory. The picture of Cara kissing someone so deeply was only more fodder for the already guilty dreams the Mother Confessor had alone at night and she was convinced that this evening would be the hardest to endure yet to boot.

Slumping backwards against the large windows that overlooked the city and gave a wonderful view of the mountains in the distance, the outlook was lost on Kahlan, who rubbed her face tiredly, achingly.

Oh Cara, what you do to me.

She loved Richard. Somehow she did, even if it was different. He had been the first to show her not to be scared of touching, the first to stand and fight in front of her without the enforcement of confession. He had taught her that being in love could be something beautiful and pure, not a thing to be pushed away and feared. She owed him not only her new view of life and justice, but also to never give up on hope and that mercy was a weapon that gave instead of took.

Still: He may have been the one that had opened up her hardened heart, but it wasn’t the Seeker that had taken the first step into its most tender depths.

If Cara had never been there, she wouldn’t think twice about being in love with a woman… but Cara was here, close, and not even the gift of Richard’s selfless feelings could compare with the yearning she had for the other female. Of course, she would never wish the blonde away, not in a thousand years of unrequited love, but that didn’t diminish the hurt in her in the least.

At least with Noa the need to keep the line intact had gone away and maybe, even while being married to Richard, Shota’s words would be enough fuel to scare away any of his romantic advances. There would be only one person she’d think about when sharing his bed… and the guilt of cheating on him with all of her heart, soul and mind would drive her slowly crazy after everything he had done for her.

If there was one wish she had, it was being a real family with her love and her daughter.

We even have a child. How much more taunting can fate be?

She pressed the palms of her hands against her closed eyes in silent prayer.

The sound of footsteps had Kahlan stand up hastily and find her composure, trying to appear unfazed and waiting to greet the intruder. It was unusual that someone would use this part of the castle wing if there were much quicker ways to reach the other places.

Her composure took a leap and plunged out of the window when she caught a glimpse of red leather. Hugging her middle in an instinctive defense reaction, Kahlan had a hard time to gaze at Cara’s face with what she had witnessed, the blondes hair still in disarray, conjuring a thousand wanton thoughts in the Confessor’s head.

The sensual mouth moving against a pale, stretched throat, a hint of glistening red beneath her tongue..

The full length of her frame, pressed down so fittingly against female curves, every movement a well–placed seduction in itself…

“Oh, uh, Cara.” Kahlan darted her eyes left and right while fishing for something to say and willing her face to grow cold again. Say something, Confessor. Don’t be tongue–tied! “Eh… how did your talk.. with Dahlia go? I heard she told you what–…”

“You saw us,” Cara interrupted the Confessor who had a friendly smile on her face, which now vanished along with her fumbled words.

Kahlan pressed her lips together and turned to the side, slightly away from the blonde that was boring her intense gaze into her. She never had cursed her inability to read Mord’Sith more than now, especially with each and every one of Cara’s emotionless layers up.

“It’s not my business what you’re doing or… whom,” Kahlan forced out, trying not to appear like the mess she was. “If it got you the information you wanted, then…”

She could see Cara’s clenched jaw out of the corner of her vision as the Mord’Sith intervened once again. “I never intended to sleep with her. I got her that far to get what I wanted… and after that, I hurt her for being the lying, groveling dirt that she is today.” And then, as if in afterthought: “I made her bleed for all the years she withheld the truth from me.”

Why are you telling me this, Cara? Why are you caring?

Kahlan turned her head back to the blonde with sad compassion. “I’m so sorry. For all they did to you.”

But Cara only spun around to gaze into the distance, watching the snow covered giants behind Aydindril with a hooded gaze. “It’s not your fault.”

And with that they stood next to each other, a foot of space between them. Just a world between them.

The Mother Confessor could feel the pulse beneath her skin, every vein and nerve ending burning.

“This is ridiculous,” Kahlan whispered softly against the glass, her breath condensing on the distorted material. “What are we doing here?”

The question contained everything and all that was wrong between them, the never–ending dance they executed around each other, the almost–but–not–quite, complicated relationship that they didn’t dare touch or otherwise it might destroy the life they build around themselves. Always one step apart, but unwilling to move closer or further away.

They were both scared. Terrified even. Hurting.

And in that moment, for only the few beats of a desperate heart, Kahlan had a horrible revelation. A tiny glimpse at the whole length of her life both past and coming and she knew that if she denied herself this feeling right now, one more time, all of her love, compassion, hope and good–will would break apart, her soul withering and dying without any Breath of Life capable of bringing it back.

A shell on the throne of Aydindril, inept to lead a country or teach her offspring what it meant to rule justly.

Broken, without any part of an Agiel even close to having touched her body.

“Cara,” she breathed, voice laced with tears and the sound of surrender, her hands seeking out the warm flesh of the other woman. Unable to articulate what she needed. Wanting for herself what the enemy had received so freely and unmerited.

The Mord’Sith could only marvel at the difference of emotion her name evoked, spoken in the same way by both her old lover and the woman she wanted most, yet so entirely diverse. Kahlan’s voice was so pure, so kind and skimmed places in her never touched before. Her eyes fluttered close at the feeling of the brunette’s shaking fingertips on her neck, so much less demanding and more giving than Dahlia’s.

“Mother Confessor,” Cara tried to warn, but it came out more than a pleading whimper than a real threat. The thumb stroking up and down her jawbone was distracting her and it seemed as if her legs never received the command to step away, out of the addictive warmth of the brunette.

Still riled up from her actions down in the guest wing in all ways imaginable, it simply wasn’t possible for her to refuse the craved touch once again. How much punishment would she have to give herself for this traitorous selfishness?

“Please, please, just this once… only this once…don’t deny me,” Kahlan begged and the tone told Cara all that the brunette couldn’t put into words here and now and although she knew it would make matters worse, the yearning stronger, she opened her eyes and stopped hiding behind the darkness of her lids.

She may be Mord’Sith, but she was only human.

Drowning in Kahlan’s gaze was like flying high in the sky on bird’s wings. There were things in life that lacked description… they had to be felt. They had to be experienced through touch, connection, merging.

When the Confessor slowly ducked her head and touched her lips to those of what should have been her mortal enemy, both women could only gasp helplessly at the full, intense contact of soft skin on skin. This wasn’t like the fluttering peck in the hallway weeks before.

Breathing the blonde’s name once more against her mouth and feeling the other woman sling her arm around her middle, the other hand against her neck, Kahlan could only press close to Cara and revel in how their bodies lay flush, more intimate than any hug could accomplish. Her hands buried themselves in Cara’s long strands, holding her face close.

The kiss was slow, needy, as if disbelief held them in its grasp. Trembling, they savored each caress, poured their heart into every steady stroke, until the need for air had them push their noses against the other’s cheek, mouths still seeking out each other in short, gentle touches while they breathed their mutual, only partly satisfied longing in deeply.

For the first time since realizing her love for Cara, Kahlan’s heart settled in a wonder–filled calm. Here, in the arms of the blonde, with surroundings fading away and the taste of her still lingering on her lips, was contentment in its purest form.

Her heart, full with the woman in front of her, reached up and placed the syllables in the air on its own volition. “Cara, I…”

The rest of it was swallowed by the Mord’Sith pressing her lips onto Kahlan’s for a second, desperate time. When she pulled back, the brunette gazed at her confused. There was a flash of panic in Cara’ eyes, born from more than missing her duty and fearing her emotions.

“Don’t.” She swallowed. “Not now. Not here. Please.”

Kahlan could only nod at the wish, forcing the words back down to where they belonged caged in. Unspoken. She pulled Cara close again, burying her face not in the neck guard, but the spot below Cara’s ear and jaw, where there was a space of free, unarmored skin.

A minute passed by, only broken by the soft exchange of light kisses and gentle caresses, both never stepping apart more than needed and uttering no word but the name of the woman they loved.

But suddenly, when the content touch of lips dared to become an open–mouthed wave of passion, it was overwhelming the Mord’Sith like a wave of responsibilities crashing against her fogged mind and the urge to flee was rising to abnormal heights. It was all too beautiful, too perfect… and her bruised, scarred soul ached beneath this gift of bliss bestowed on her, it was too much too soon and Cara bristled against submitting herself with all the problems that pointed like gleaming spear tips at what was developing here. She was losing herself and it scared her, terrified her, more than anything else.

It was more than just the Sister of the Agiel in her trying to flee from the deathly touch of the Confessor.

“No, stop,” she ground out as Kahlan’s kisses trailed down her face and she pushed the taller woman away, with a burst of strength and yet as careful as blowing a feather into the wind. “It’s a mistake.”

They watched each other with skittish gazes, with attraction and the weight of reality settling back on them.

“Oh Spirits,” Kahlan gasped out and covered her face with unbelief at what she had done, what her feelings had led her to do. Was she so far gone from her Confessor training that she was unable to keep herself in check?

With fear of touching each other again, lest it would lead to another outlet of emotion they couldn’t keep under control, they took another step away from each other, breathing deep and evenly and trying not to think too hard of the kiss–swollen lips of the other woman.

“Richard can’t know about this,” Kahlan decided with conviction, the last word containing not just what had happened minutes ago. “Ever.”

Cara chose to only nod with her face blank, but troubled enough that the cyan green of her eyes was stormy and dark.

They stayed together like this, undisturbed by the castle inhabitants, disturbed by the mess inside of them, until the orb of fire wandered across the sky and found a rest behind the mountains, only leaving behind the soft glow of forgotten light. Taking the memories and revelations of the past time they had shared and keeping them close in their souls, they put their masks back in place and joined the others at dinner as if all was right in the world.

Part 25

It was only two days later that Kahlan and Cara had cooled down enough that they were able to be in the same room and three until they could sit close again. It was on the evening on the third that Cara announced what she had found out to the rest of her friends.

“Darken Rahl and my son lives. His name is Damon, he is ten years old and it seems like he is trained to be Rahl’s heir, as he is kept hidden.”

Noa was sitting next to Kahlan with an awe–filled face, the thought of having a brother, even if he was just half her blood, were great news for her. The Mother Confessor didn’t know if she was glad that the boy Cara had born was alive or if she should fear what he may have become after years spend in D’Hara.

“Is there a chance to free him?” Richard promptly asked, always concerned for children, especially one that was in his evil brother’s grasp.

The Mord’Sith only shook her head, but not in an answer to Richard’s question. “Don’t think about it. Our main problem is Darken Rahl, and the knowledge that my son is alive won’t change that. We shouldn’t be so foolish to run in his arms in a try to get him… he may be just as bad as his father.”

“Or as promising as his mother,” Kahlan added softly from where she sat.

Cara ripped her gaze away and into the death of the night, trying to settle her inner balance at the churning those words had caused. “My point is that we don’t know and don’t need to. He is well hidden, no doubt magically, and it would be useless to search blindly.”

“But–…”

“But what, Richard? Do you want to go and look under every rock in D’Hara with soldiers and Sisters of the Dark crawling around everywhere?” The blonde scowled. “Try and think logically about it for once.”

“She has a point, Richard.”

The Seeker bit at the inside of his cheek in evident frustration, but then nodded at Kahlan’s comment. “Fine, maybe you’re right… he already has spent ten years over there. I think we’ll be helping him more if we take care of my brother first.”

“A wise decision, my boy,” Zedd commented, patting his shoulder from where he stood behind his grandson. “Wizard’s sixth rule: The only sovereign you can allow to rule you is reason.” Zane, sprawled in a loveseat a foot behind the two men, mouthed the words at the same time as the wizard and swayed his head from side to side in mockery while doing so.

Noa hid a smirk behind her hand at that, while Kahlan, although smiling slightly, raised an reproachful eyebrow.

“Say Kahlan, when is that creature of woman supposed to leave for D’Hara?” the old man asked, after sitting down heavily on a chair. “She is suspiciously quiet in her part of the guest wing and has not requested an audience.”

“I guess she’s licking her wounds while stewing.” Cara sniffed, not wanting to think of Dahlia at the moment. Although she shouldn’t feel betrayed after all they went through near the end of their relationship, the fact that all the time the dark blonde had hid such an important piece of information from the woman she claimed to love stung.

“You didn’t torture her, did you?” Richard gaped at her with shock.

Cara could only roll her eyes towards the ceiling. Why did everyone still think that the first think she did was pummel someone with her Agiels? “She’s has a bloody nose and some damaged dignity, that’s it. Can we end this discussion now?”

“Zedd, she’s leaving tomorrow, so you can rest in peace next night.”

“Thank you, Kahlan, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” Seemingly Kahlan wanted to end any discussion about the guest as much as the Mord’Sith.

“So, Cara,” Zane piped up, “any more kids we don’t yet know of? You’ve got a boy and girl now… how about twins? Any twins?”

Cara ground her teeth, pining the young man down with a burning glare that had him holding up his hands in quiet surrender.

When everyone left the room, Noa and Cara stayed behind. Kahlan lingered at the doorway too, but the recent events made her insecure… she didn’t know if it was a good idea to stay alone with the blonde, even in the presence of their daughter. Especially in the presence of their daughter.

But Noa send her an easy smile and the Mother Confessor was sure that the girl would take care of the situation, waving good–night at her.

“Mom, are you really sure that you want… Damon in Darken’s hands?” the tumbler carefully prodded once the sound of the other’s steps had faded.

“Do I have any choice?” Cara was sitting down on a stool in front of the fireplace, elbows placed on her knees. To any other person it would’ve looked as if the Mord’Sith was calm and poised, but Noa could see the tense line of stress forming in her shoulders.

The girl sat down sideways in front of her, knees hugged close to her upper body. “I’m sure we can get him away from there one day.”

Cara pressed her hands, folded to one fist, against her upper lip, exhaling deeply. More angry than sad she pressed out: “It seems like the Creator hates me. Two children. And I couldn’t be there for any of them.”

Noa leaned against her mother’s leg with a smile. “But we’re here now together, aren’t we?”

Placing her hand on top of the girl’s hair, she shook her head. “And what about Damon? What do you tell a son you haven’t seen since he was born?”

At those words Noa glanced up at her mother with a gleam of revelation. “You’re scared. You think he might hate you.”

“And he has every right to do so.” Cara didn’t like admitting it, acknowledging the fear. There were too many things she was scared of these days and it was moments like these that she craved the stoic void the lack of feelings had given her in the past.

“No. You didn’t know, Mom, you were never given the chance.” Noa dragged herself up, placing her hands on her hips with determination. “And I will do the best I can to make him see that we love him, once he’s free from his father.”

Cara scoffed, but did so with a affectionate shake of her head. “Why am I not surprised about that?”

“Might be because you know me.” She tilted her head.

“Come on, get to bed. And stay clear of Dahlia, do you hear me? She might be going tomorrow, but there’s still some time for her to do anything stupid.”

“Sure thing.” Noa saluted.

“And tell your fool of a best friend that I’m going to hit him the next time he doesn’t mind his own business.”

Snickering, the girl could only shrug helpless. “I stopped counting how many women slapped him, so don’t expect him to change for you. He loves riling people up, he can deal with the echo.”

They left the common room and took the staircase to their respective rooms. After nearly crossing the next floor, the Mord’Sith froze at the sound of a specific voice.

“Hey Cara! I’m your illegitimate son, too! Come and hug me, mommy!”

Zane would later claim her floored face had totally been worth the black eye.

* * * * *

Kahlan and Cara watched how the D’Haran’s lead their horses out of the city gate. They would receive their weapons a mile away from the city, accompanied by two dozen of the Home Guard to ensure they didn’t do anything stupid.

Dahlia was the last one to leave the stables, the swelling of her face almost gone and the dark spots hidden behind a layer of powder. It would let her keep her pride while riding across the city, where otherwise every person in Aydindril would have seen her humiliation in blaring contrast to her light skin tone.

Stalking over to the two women with a raised chin, the Sergeant stopped in front of Cara with a smug look. “So, you made your choice. What a pity… we were so great together. One of a kind.”

“Your definition of great eludes my grasp, Dahlia. But maybe I’m just not the type anymore to kiss a crazy man’s feet,” the other blonde sneered back.

“Oh, why are you running away, Cara?” Dahlia snapped back just as riled up, before she had herself under control again, the smugness back in her leer. “You may have used me to find out about what you wanted, but your touches… they were just as equally revealing.” Brown eyes smoldered when her implications found a mark. “You wanted this just as much as I did. You are starved for it, admit it. And even with each of us on different sides of the battle field, it doesn’t mean that we can’t share a certain form of relief once in a while, for old times sake…”

Dahlia stepped forward with the intention of grasping her victory and stroking Cara’s skin, as the Mord’Sith had gone strangely quiet and refused to met her gaze, but suddenly there was a Mother Confessor in between them, her body shielding the blonde and with cold fury directed at the Sergeant. It didn’t take any words to know that one step further, one more touch and Dahlia would find herself under Confession.

Shifting her gaze between the two, Dahlia found her eyes widening at a sudden realization. “Ah,” she breathed softly, becoming even paler than normal while her features kept calm. “I see.”

“You see nothing,” Kahlan hissed at the other woman. “And if you ever try to twist your shared past and memories again to use her for your purpose, I will personally see to it that you suffer without reprieve.”

“Don’t believe that you can scare me, Mother Confessor,” Dahlia snarled, yet retreated backwards to her mount. “This is just a small loss in a full scale war and I’m confident that one day Cara will be back with me, receiving her affections without need for secrecy and denial.”

Kahlan wanted to start up and bared her teeth, but before she could rush up to the cocky, arrogant tactician, Cara grabbed both her arms and held her back with a shake of her head.

“Powerless, even in her own home and kingdom… how pathetic. I wonder if your little Confessor daughter is cut from the same cloth or if she is made from sterner stuff than what you two present me here,” Dahlia taunted from the back of her horse, her ruby lips pulled up in an amused way when the other two women froze in shock at the knowledge the Sergeant presented. “But I’m quite sure I will find out some day. Because, you know, Cara, even puppies can grow into blood–thirsty hounds.”

Leaving the threat hanging in the air, Dahlia snapped the girt of her mount and stormed away in a cloud of disturbed snow. Painful uncertainty lingered behind, masterfully placed like a snare they had just stepped their foot in.

“She knows of Noa,” Kahlan fretted, trying to rip herself away from the blonde, “we have to stop her. I will order the guards to…”

“Kahlan, stop.” Cara turned her around, catching her frantic gaze. “Of what use is the knowledge other than making us a greater danger to Rahl? He won’t have the guts to attack us when aware that the Confessor rule is secure once again. If you go and execute her, the nobles will have a fit for your rash decision, you will only decrease your own position.”

“If she makes her threat come true… if she hurts Noa, or you…” The brunette bit her lip in helpless frustration.

After a look around to ensure that they were alone for the second, Cara dragged the frantic Confessor back a few steps into the shadows, where she took Kahlan’s face between her hands and pressed her forehead against Kahlan’s.

“We won’t let that happen. She is safe, here in Aydindril, as am I. Noa knows how to fight and she’s clever… and there is no need whatsoever to go back to D’Hara.”

“But… Damon…”

“Is a topic for another time. Rahl himself may be our problem too, but there is nothing we can do right now. Neither can he.”

Calming her stressed breathing by gazing into the depth of Cara’s eyes, Kahlan slowly eased her tensed muscles and let her tightly coiled anger and fear go with a deep sigh. But Dahlia’s poisoned words had found their mark once spoken and spread in her insides without her able to counter its effects.

“She’s right, isn’t she?” Kahlan gasped out after a moment and turned away from Cara. “You need something that… that…” I can never give you. “I’m hurting you. And there is nothing I can do to change it.”

Cara wanted so badly to say No to that, to ease Kahlan’s fears and tell her that everything would be fine. But no matter what she said, it would be a lie. The brunette knew that Cara wanted her, she simply wasn’t aware how much, how deeply… and Dahlia had gotten a glimpse of that. There was nothing the Confessor was able to do, nothing that wouldn’t number both their burdens and stop the pain that lurked whichever way they chose to go.

The world between them kept on turning.

“I’m sorry,” was all that Kahlan could force out, unable to stand the idea any longer that her presence was doing more bad than good. In long strides that had her winter dress and coat floating in the wind that was heavy with fresh snow flakes, she regally crossed the street towards her mare and galloped back to the castle.

Cara could only watch with a bleeding heart how everything she yearned for rode back surrounded in a twirl of purest white.

Dahlia wasn’t the only one that the winter managed to enhance beautifully.

* * * * *

Standing like a lecturer in front of them, Zedd held up a small blue banner with a family crest on it. “Well?”

“It’s blue,” Noa grumbled from where she sat sprawled on her student desk, bored enough that she leaned her cheek so heavily on her fist that her green eye was nearly closed.

“Yes, but what does the shade tell you?”

“It’s a light blue,” she replied just as unenthusiastically as before.

“It’s cyan blue,” Zedd corrected testily. “You should be able to discern that by now.”

“There have been twenty different shades of blue up till now!” Noa protested annoyed. “How am I supposed to remember all of them?!”

“It’s Queen Elhenna’s maiden family banner, as she liked the color of the spring fidelia flower,” Zane added with a yawn.

“Why, that is very correct, my boy! You seem to have a knack for heraldry, that’s the third one you could identify by the shade of the blue!”

“Terrible choice of color, if you ask me. Their guards are dressed in lavender… if she ever comes to pay her respects to Aydindril, tell me. I’ll gorge my eyes out beforehand,” the young man mumbled distastefully.

Noa shot her best friend an envious glare. “It’s just dandy that you’re learning those quicker than me. As you’re going to be my servant one day. Like my own personal lapdog,” she mocked the advisor, that was sitting slack on his chair, legs spread out before him.

“Lap dog, don’t make me die laughing. You can kiss my fine, lily covered a–… aaattractive backside, miss wanna–be Mother Confessor,” Zane hastily corrected when Zedd pointedly tapped his finger on the table he was standing behind.

The two students stuck out their tongue at each other.

“Children, stop squabbling!” Placing the stack of banners on one side, Zedd waved his hand over them until they changed into a different color. “All right, let’s move on to the color red…”

Two ornery groans filled the library, both figures slumping down on the top of their tables.

Their salvation came in the form of another kind of red that slammed the door open and stepped noisily into the room.

Zane held up a lecturing finger in imitation of Zedd. “Blood red, because it’s a pain to wash every day after all the killing and torture. Blood is terribly hard to get out of textures. It’s called Mord’Sith and I assume it’s quite unamused by my explanation.”

Cara confirmed his words by slapping the back of his head once she was near enough, causing the insolent young man to wince. “One of these days your mouth will get a taste of the hurtful end of my Agiels.”

“There’s a non–hurting end to these things?” he mumbled unconvinced, rubbing the spot in his hair that hopefully wouldn’t get a bump. Zedd had just healed his black eye an hour ago.

“Don’t count on it.” Cara nodded her chin in the direction of the door. “Kahlan wants to see you, Zedd.”

The wizard sighed and waved his hand at his students. “Fine, you may go. But don’t think we’re going to let this lecture fall under the rug…” He wasn’t quite finished speaking and the two were already gone in a flash. Cara merely blinked at their sudden need to be elsewhere.

“What did you teach them?”

“Heraldry.”

“Then I can relate to their quick departure.”

Cara led him to a small chamber behind the court room, where the ruling council was just finished with their weekly meeting about the workings of Aydindril. Kahlan had announced to them, and only them, that another Confessor had been found to keep the line intact, but she still refused to give more information about who it might be. It was still much too early to have Noa even remotely confront her duties as the next ruler after barely three months since finding out that she was Kahlan’s daughter.

Admitting officially that Noa was both Kahlan Amnell’s child as well as that of the Seeker’s obviously female Mord’Sith was another turn that would come with a heap of political problems. Especially with the offspring not stemming from her well–known fiance. After Zedd’s careful offering of the idea to hide Noa’s real parentage under a veil of differently chosen parents, the Mother Confessor refused outright to declare the girl as anything else but what she was: both her and Cara’s daughter.

It wasn’t fair to anyone of the three to make the world around them believe anything else.

Thus Noa’s grand revelation required some careful planning and more time than had passed just now. That didn’t change the fact that the council pressed for information and Kahlan’s features mirrored the strain she had to endure while fending off the attacks of the nobles, merchants and elected commoners.

But when she stepped closer, there was a tired smile on her face.

“How did it go?” Zedd inquired compassionately. He knew how discussions like the ones in the council room looked like and was saddened that he was unable to join the Confessor in her fight for rights. As a wizard of the First Order he actually had the privilege to be part of the council, but Kahlan had wanted to deal with the problems herself, wanting to keep Zedd tucked away as a secret weapon once Noa’s heritage was made public.

“I succeeded in getting my way, but that’s about all I can say about my victory. I will refrain from joining the council for the next two months so that they can settle their ruffled feathers.” Kahlan sighed and folded her hands in front of her stomach, back rigid, still fully immersed in her Confessor persona.

“But what if they make decisions without you while you’re gone? They could have their way without you ever finding out,” Cara noted with a frown.

The brunette shook her head, brown curls gently swaying with the motion. “I have a representative. And even with all their annoying habits, all of the council members are trusted members of the city and good people at heart. They took my final word with a disgruntled look, but they will obey.”

“Well, if you think so…” the blonde replied unconvinced, not quite sure if she shared Kahlan’s trust in the council members.

But the Confessor only let the smile reach her eyes, captivating blue twinkling in the afternoon light that flooded the chamber through high windows. “They took care of Aydindril for nearly a year without a Mother Confessor at hand, so I believe they intend the best for the city and the Midlands. And yet they know they are helpless without the guiding hand of a Confessor, as Prince Fyren so wonderfully showed by example. They won’t try anything strange.”

These kind of facts were of a much stronger substance and Cara nodded her understanding. She had to remind herself constantly that this wasn’t the black and white thinking known to D’Hara and that people weren’t split simply into haters and worshipers. The citizens of Midlands loved their home deeply and accepted their ruler willingly, now after the war had ended for the time being they would do their best to let peace reign for as long as possible.

Such a vast difference. It’s like D’Hara and the Midlands are worlds apart. She tried to ignore the parallels between a certain Confessor and Mord’Sith.

“So, Zedd, how are the lessons coming along? The masses might be calmed down for the moment, but I really need a first impression of Noa’s skills. She will be leading a whole country one day.” Kahlan’s imploring gaze turned to the wizard, but beneath the professional exterior there was a trace of light fear and nervousness. She had told Noa that the girl owned everything a good ruler needed, but those words had been spoken more or less with a healthy dose of blind faith. The rightful pride of a mother in her child.

The older man pressed his palms together while heaving a deep sigh, walking slowly along the side of the room as he always did when he was thinking and speaking at the same time.

“Noa is…well, in one word, complicated.” The woman’s ears peaked up and he held up a his hands to ease them. “Not that she gives me trouble. Well, at least not more trouble than a girl her age could give me.” He paused and raised his brows as if to clarify. “Or let me rephrase that again: she is very tame for a girl her age with those powers and abilities. Tutoring her together with Zane was quite a good idea.”

“I knew he would come in handy,” Kahlan added with a smug look. Cara merely grunted in annoyance.

“Considering the girl’s initial lack of motivation, they now spur each other on. Noa really tries her best to keep up with all the information she’s learning in such a short time. But… this is also the place where the problems start surfacing and it’s hard to overlook them.” He sighed. “The trouble she has with learning theories is more than apparent.”

Cara pursed her lips. “Are you trying to imply that Noa is dumb?”

The wizard held up a hand to halt that train of thought. “Oh, not even remotely close. Others might pin it down to lack of intelligence, but I can see that her difficulties have nothing to do with that.” Stroking his chin, he tried to find a way of how to explain his hunches best and elaborated. “She is… a creature of instinct. Of rapid reaction and quick, on the fly decision making. She accesses her memory on impulse, instead of carefully planning alternatives and then choosing the best way.”

“This I can only confirm,” Cara mumbled while shifting her stance.

“Noa has a hard time connecting relations that are obvious to any other human mind, yet she thinks around corners and views things from a stand–point that is uncanny and unique. It’s an obstacle to get something to stick in her memory that has nothing to do with movement, but once it’s in there, I have no doubt she’ll ever lose it again.”

Blinking, Kahlan pushed her hands down on the table in the middle of the large room, trying to grasp what Zedd was saying. “So what does that mean summarized?”

After taking another second to order his thoughts, Zedd rubbed the wrinkles on his forehead, as if he himself had just as much a hard time to understand it as the two women that observed him with curious looks.

“Considering her time growing up, I suspect we’re confronting the girl with a reality that she never had to experience ever before in her life. It’s like this: Noa’s whole history was a consistent play of reaction and counter reaction. For example, the villagers reacted with hate or violence and Noa would respond in a suitable manner. If it was the wrong one, she would try a different one the next time, carefully avoiding to ever make the same mistake again.”

The two women nodded, still following his explanation with a graveness that belonged exclusively to parents worrying about their child.

“Then there is Noa testing her boundaries on the whim. A random impulse caused her to try and start sneaking into her village, when everyone believed she would always take the main road. It’s not the product of careful planning, it was simply a reaction that awaited a counter reaction. Seeing that it was suitable and that the villagers ignored her when she made no ruckus, she implied it into her normal day to day habits.”

He was implying what Noa had explained to Cara one day in Darza, that she used the difference of attention–calling movement and rigid stillness to confuse people’s minds of her current whereabouts.

There was a moment of quiet as everyone processed what had been said. After a second Cara opened her mouth, then closed it again, before bursting out with disbelief: “Are you trying to say… that she is conditioned?”

Zedd slowly nodded his head. “Noa can’t deal with facts and things that are no use to her when she first hears about them. All she ever learned in her life was connected to survival, or learned through trial and error. Sitting down in a classroom and listening to dry subjects is like giving her a book she is unable to read due to it written in a foreign language.”

“My child is conditioned,” Cara echoed her own words as if she had not listened to Zedd, stumped.

“You make it sound like she’s a dog or anything of that kind,” Kahlan threw in miffed.

“It is the way you train an animal, by the simple carrot and stick policy. It’s also the way we train our Mord’Sith pets, although not the Mord’Sith themselves.” Cara frowned. “I should have realized it sooner, I used a similar method when teaching her how to fight…”

Kahlan lowered her eyes. If there was one person that could speak about this with certain knowledge, it was Cara.

“That’s… tragic,” said the wizard with an empathic look. The thought of the young girl behaving like a submissive Mord’Sith pet sounded just wrong in his head. “But there is little we can do about that now. The process to imprint another way on her mind will take years.”

The red–clad woman nodded stoically while folding her arms, Kahlan at her side raised an arm and pinched her nose with a sigh. Not quite sure if she should classify those news as bad or neutral.

“There is so much we don’t know about her and never will,” the Confessor finally said under her breath, unhappy. It pained her that her own daughter never had a normal life and never would, even more than the fact that she and Cara had no part in a huge episode in her earlier years, unable to give her the safety and warmth a young child should receive.

“That’s still no reason to raise your child in such an ignorant, wrong way,” added a smoky voice from behind them, causing the three to pivot on their heels, taken by surprise.

“Shota!” Kahlan hissed at the shadowy figure, that stepped forward once her name was called. Undazzled as always, with raised chin and an ignorant gleam that told how much beneath her status everyone else seemed to be, the witch let her gaze travel across the group disdainfully.

“How many loopholes does this Creator–forsaken castle own?!” Cara ground out between clenched teeth, side–stepping so that she was between the invader and her friends. “One step more and you can say good–bye to the functionality of your arm, witch.”

“So that’s the greeting I get for being the key factor of getting you home, Mord’Sith? My, I’m insulted.” She chuckled when both the blonde’s and the wizard’s eyes grew wide in confusion, then followed her gaze to Kahlan, who only closed off her face to the world.

“That is still no reason to breach the walls of my realm as if you owned the land, Shota.”

“I go where I want, my dear, but if it appeases you… I’m not here to do any harm. My last innocent visit should prove that.”

“State your business,” Zedd answered after everyone shared an unsure look about the situation until the Mother Confessor nodded her consent.

Shota made a bow around the group, especially the dangerous Mord’Sith that could make her threats truth without the greatest effort. It was a prowl around something neither defined as enemies nor as friends, yet to say they had an armistice was a naive assumption. As troubled as the relationship between the two fractions was, as wary were their movements and gazes.

“I present you an offer.” The witch stopped walking, this time without the added protection of her white furs. It seemed as if she had decided to be blunt about her dealings, both in words and appearance. “Bring me your daughter and I will try to help her deal with her magic.”

Something snapped to sudden understanding in Kahlan and her nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms. “You… you wretched hypocrite! You never wanted to help us get Cara back, you wanted Noa from the very beginning!” Nearly livid with anger, the Confessor’s ire was only stoked when Shota didn’t even try to deny any of her accusations.

“What? Did you think I tried to help you out of pure goodwill? Because I wanted to see you happily reunited with your gone astray Mord’Sith?” The witch scoffed. “Oh please.”

“When in all the Underworld’s cavern did she help you get Cara back? And why?” Zedd threw in with a confused look, while Cara fumed silently.

Before the Mother Confessor could open her mouth, Shota chuckled loudly into the hall. “Haven’t told them about the book, haven’t we? Looks as if there are still some secrets in the air…” Her pronunciation of the word ‘secrets’ had Kahlan’s mouth snap shut and her cheeks get spotty with angry red.

Zedd’s bushy eyebrows nearly went up into his hairline at that. “She told you about the book of Dazrodha?” His eyes measured Shota up from head to toe.

“She gave me a hint. I took it. That’s it.” Kahlan clenched her jaw and pointed at the witch. “You foresaw that Noa would come back with Cara, so you gave me the hint to put in motion all events that led up until today. By helping us, you only served your own needs to get your hands on a powerful young child. But I can tell you this: As long as I’m alive, you will not even get close to our daughter.”

“Let alone teach her your wicked, twisted ways,” Cara added with a hiss.

“Foolish women,” Shota shot back with an angry spark, “are you this close–minded? Are you going to let your prejudices keep the girl from learning more about her true nature and powers?”

Kahlan wanted to shout her denial in return, but she was stumped at the honest anger in the witch’s voice that was directed at them. Especially because she didn’t understand what Shota was playing at. “All she needs to know she can be taught here, as a Confessor. And we already know about her chaos magic and that she is unable to control it properly… I doubt you will be able to achieve what a wizard of the First Order couldn’t.”

The redhead tsk–ed, throwing back her head. “You are foolish. And incredibly so. And ignorant to boot, overlooking the fact that your daughter is an impossibility of nature.”

Cara surged forward, her hand clasping around Shota’s upper arm in a vice grip while cold fire erupted from her eyes. “If you call my child a freak of nature or anything of that kind one more time, I swear…”

“For Creator’s sake, open your eyes!” Shota snapped, trying futilely to rip her limb out of the Mord’Sith’s grasp. Although there was no Agiel in her face, only the close proximity of the blonde was a similar warning to the howling screech of the leather rod. “Are you this blind to overlook the incredibility that is a fusion of Confessor and Mord’Sith, polar opposites that should not be able to survive in one body? Think about it, there is no natural way to create a unity like her.”

That got both the parents and the wizard thinking. Mord’Sith powers could only be found in females. Only a male Confessor would be able to get a Mord’Sith pregnant… but even the act of copulation would kill the Sister of the Agiel before any child could be conceived. Shota was right, there was no natural way to create something like Noa, because even if they broke a young Confessor, the resulting Mord’Sith power erupting in her body would rip her cells apart only seconds later.

“She… is one of a kind, I admit that,” Cara carefully said, without easing her hold on the witch. “It doesn’t take a genius to realize that.”

“You are right in that matter, Shota…” It was the wizard. “I’m aware of the… obvious impossibility that the girl represents. But I believe that the chaos magic is responsible for keeping the two different natures of powers apart.”

“There is so much more to it than that,” the witchwoman replied, her eyes shining. The sound of her voice reflected the hope that she was finally getting through to them. “But a wizard bound to rules and order will never understand it, can’t understand it. Only a witch can see the chaotic truth infused in the child. And only someone like me, a witch with the gift of prophecy, can remotely grasp what kind of magic the girl harbors, the chaotic streak that is so unpredictable and uncontrollable as the very nature of seeing the ebb and flow of the possible future is.”

Kahlan clenched her fingers tightly around her arms and refused to look away from the redheaded woman’s fiery gaze. “You want to say you can teach her to control her magic? Is that it?”

Shota sniffed and looked away, past the leather clad form of the Mord’Sith that was gripping her limb. She dragged at it once more and Cara at least eased her hold so that the flow of blood was able to resume its work. “No. I’m not going to lie… even I am unable to give her full control of something that’s so slippery. But I can show her how to feel it, connect with it… accept it. It’s a part of her, she is the magic. I can teach her… things.”

“And while doing so, whisper treacherous lies into her ears until she turns her back to us,” Cara hissed and shook her captive once harshly. “Don’t believe we’re dumb, witch.”

“I’m not foolish enough to believe I can control a Mord’Sith,” Shota hissed back just as venomously, both women staring at each other in a contest of hate–filled wills.

Although it would’ve been interesting to see the outcome of this, as even powerless next to the blonde the witch stubbornly wouldn’t let go of her deeply infused pride, Kahlan interrupted the match with a slap of her hand on the table top.

“Enough of this. You had your saying, Shota. You may have helped us in the past, but you also betrayed us without any qualm whatsoever, and I’m not taking any risks with our daughter.” The Mother Confessor could see the deep frustration in the magical woman’s face, as well as a loss of respect for the people that surrounded her.

As if sensing the witch’s defeat, Cara flexed her hand one last time before letting go of the arm, leaving behind a dark red spot on pale flesh that would turn darker at the end of the day.

Shota sneered, not cradling her hurt spot while standing rigid. “I underrated your amount of stupidity. What a letdown… to have close–minded people like you rule over a country, it’s a sad day indeed for Aydindril. The last Mother Confessor wouldn’t have made such a grave mistake.”

Kahlan flinched at that, unable to hide how the comment had found its mark in the festering wound of her fears. Fear of failure, fear of being unable to fill the shoes the last ruler had left behind. Fear of doing the wrong thing.

Cara caught the twitch and fought down the impulse to rip the witch apart with her bare hands when Zedd called out the intruder’s name in a warning voice that had Shota flip her hair back with an arrogant movement of her head.

“Well, Zeddicus… I conclude I’m not welcomed anymore. Don’t fret, I won’t set foot on this unbecoming part of land again. It’s worse enough that you decided to dirty yourself with the soil of it.”

She turned fully toward the group, lowering her eyes at all of them. “But maybe the Creator takes pity on you and can still convince you of the importance of my teachings. Travel to Agaden Reach, if enlightenment finds you, otherwise this will be our last sighting of each other.”

Smoke blurred the contours of her shape and after a second she was gone from sight without a word of goodbye, leaving behind upturned minds and an eerie, tension–filled silence that crowded the room like thick wool.

“You were right to decide like that,” Cara finally said, her voice chasing away the disturbing turmoil trapped between the walls, even if not the unrest in their hearts. “Giving her Noa would be like setting her in a viper’s nest.”

It was Zedd that looked like he didn’t hold the same opinion, but he nodded his head anyway. It was neither his place to decide Noa’s fate, nor was he able to fully confirm or deny Shota’s claims.

Kahlan shook her head free of lingering doubts about her choosing. The day had been long enough and she didn’t want to think about it more than necessary. Here in the home of the Confessors was the best place to teach Noa all that she needed, while at the same time keeping her safe and with the people that held her dear to their heart.

“Let’s just… eat dinner and forget this happened.”

“Our life can only get better, now that we’re free of this pest.” The blonde marched out of the room without a backward glance, obviously glad she didn’t have to trifle away her time with the annoying witch any more in the future.

Zedd shared a glance with the Mother Confessor, who was looking quite down and tired. It didn’t seem as if she would be able to forget as easily, despite her words. “Don’t let her get to you, Kahlan. You are a good and fine ruler, much more empathic than Serena could have ever been.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Kahlan was too much the Mother Confessor at the moment to let an exhausted sigh pass her lips or let the doubt show on her features. If only you knew the gravest of my secrets, Zedd, would you still think the same? “We’ll see the truth in the future.”

And she prayed to the Creator that Shota’s words held no form of prophecy in them.

Part 26

“Whatever you do, it will have consequences. Every move, every word, every action.” Despite his important words, Zedd was smiling, a piece of bread in every hand. “You should do best to heed this principle.”

“But I guess no one cares if I choose milk or water to drink in the morning, eh?” Noa replied with a grin, seated opposite of the wizard.

“Maybe, as long as you aren’t the Mother Confessor. I know of a clan in the far south that would deem milk in the morning as an affront to their spirits…” Realizing that Noa was blinking at him uncomprehendingly, Zedd shook his head. “Well, more about that another time. Let’s have a practical example to this lesson. You see that water carafe?”

Noa watched and chewed her breakfast, both with obvious interest.

Zedd quickly pushed the bread in his mouth, leaving him with one free hand that he directed at the metallic container. A blast of energy erupted from his palm, catching the carafe and throwing it over. A domino effect followed, ending with a falling candle holder slamming on the side of a dish and launching a dripping piece of meat into the air, both table occupants watching it fly and vanish through a door that led to the hallway.

A surprised, frustrated outcry followed when the missile found a mark.

“All right,” the girl agreed, spoon halfway to her mouth. “I think I get what you mean.”

And in came the unlucky finder of the example’s result.

Zane stared down at his top with a blank face that screamed Well, shit, but instead he spoke in a dulcet tone. “Ah, saucy meat on my work clothes. Lovely. Perfect way to start the day.”

“Want some more apple sauce on top?” Noa offered around a mouthful of oatmeal, looking up from her gorging. “It goes well with the cranberry spot next to your buttons.”

“How come it’s always me that get’s in the way when dirty things decide to sprout wings and fly in the air?”

“It’s your work clothes,” Zedd offered with a spin of his half–eaten bread. “Maybe they just react badly to unfortunate accidents.”

“Just great. I’m wearing cursed clothes. If Sabir found out about that, he would make me his main attraction as carnival clown.” Still annoyed with the sticky spot on his front, but hungry nonetheless, Zane sat down at the table where Noa and the wizard hadn’t already cleared the top of food.

Zedd had told Noa about Shota’s visit the day before, but the girl was unable to do much with the information, placing it aside with a shrug. She didn’t know the witch and even less if her claims about the chaos magic were true, so Noa didn’t bother to let it pollute her mind with unnecessary knowledge.

After magically cleaning the meat–catching top, the advisor and the old man got into a debate about working clothes and their practical meaning, leading to a discussion about wizards and their robes. While they squabbled about it, with the younger man holding his ground quite well, Kahlan and Richard joined the meal with a shared, confused look at the strange lunch topic.

“They’ve been at it since a while,” an amused Non added with a shrug, offering them the milk jar.

“… –is no valid argument against wearing–…”

“… –you do have to take into account fashion, considering the younger nobles–…”

“What in the Underworld are they going on about?” Cara muttered with a slight trace of annoyance when she stalked into the hall, sitting down next to her daughter.

“Something about robes. I lost them somewhere between ‘modern cut’ and ‘age–long tradition’.”

“And that’s a reason to ruin the peace of my afternoon meal?” Cara huffed. “Next time that happens, I’ll eat in my room.”

Kahlan smiled indulgently at the Mord’Sith. “Aw, come on. It’s nice to have a lively table, it reminds me of the times when the halls were full of Confessors and wizards. We’re all family here.”

Scrunching up her face and pointing towards Zane, Cara shook her head. “That leech is not part of my family.”

“…–am a born actor and would look great in women’s clothes.”

The table went silent when they caught the last words, everyone gaping at the young, brown–haired man.

“What?” he asked annoyed, not the least bit ashamed. “I would!”

Cara pointedly glanced at Kahlan, who tried to hide her laugh behind her raised mug.

“Fine,” the Mother Confessor admitted after a futile effort at shaking off her smile, “maybe ‘close friendship’ is a more accurate term.”

Zedd started up, wounded pride showing on his expressive face that he had turned towards the advisor. “Are you trying to imply I look ridiculous in my clothes?”

“Good man, the words ‘that outfit looks stupid’ aren’t exactly called implying, are they? Which is why fate has it that you’re the wizard and I’m the advisor.”

Finding Zedd speechless and outmaneuvered was not an everyday sight, everyone joining the discussion with more jokes or sympathetic comments directed at the poor older man, while Zane leaned backwards with a smug look and raised spirits.

It was all good and fun, almost making them forget the trials of life and the real world laying and waiting like a predator poised to strike just beyond the borders of the high windows. Time jumped, hovered… and pounced.

“Mother Confessor, excuse my disturbance,” an older soldier interrupted the merry round suddenly, causing Kahlan to stumble on her switch from woman to Confessor, a trace of confusion and annoyance left on her features when she turned to him.

“Yes, Captain?”

“The captured D’Haran General is awaiting his final trial. The counsel has deemed him guilty to a sentence of hanging.”

Disturbed, Richard turned from the Captain to Kahlan. “D’Haran General? When did they capture a General?”

“It was during the Great War, Seeker,” the soldier explained with a note of respect in his voice, taking over for his ruler in explaining the situation. Kahlan was thankful for that, as she had read about the unusual captive, but hadn’t had time to get familiar with the details. “His group plundered and pillaged all along the Midlands to reach Aydindril from behind when our armies were busy dealing with the D’Haran invasion. Our Home Guard managed to thwart his surprise attack and crush his troups, capturing him while they tried to flee.”

The table had gone silent, everyone listening intently to the situation.

“He has to answer for a lot of crimes… the body count he left behind is atrocious,” the Captain added with disdain.

“The counsel has spoken. Why have you come to me?” Although she poised the question, Kahlan had the bad feeling that she could already guess the answer.

Her intuition didn’t deceive her.

“He insists on his right for Confession… I think he believed that there was still no Confessor in the city, as he was in the prison and shut off from the world for quite a long time.”

“But now he knows?”

“Yes. He didn’t revoke his right.”

Pride. Of course. Foolish man. Kahlan let her eyes drop back onto the table where her hands were lying still and slack. There had once been a time where it had been different and where the simple thought of using her unique powers on another human being had caused her to feel sick and faint as if it were the worst horror one could imagine.

Now she was, nearly, at peace with it, understanding her duty and taking it as what it was. Judgment. Protection. Justice. She had confessed enough people to not tremble at the idea of placing her hands on a throat or waking up at night gasping and shaking, hating herself without end for what she had done to those people.

She never forgot their faces, though. There now were other ways her power could haunt her.

“Leave us. I’ll come in a moment.”

The Captain bowed and left together with his two men that had taken residence near the entry doors, closing the wooden wings behind them.

“You’ll do it?” Richard asked carefully, his brows drawn together.

The Mother Confessor nodded sharply. “It’s the law, Richard. If a person found guilty by the counsel demands a Confessor, then it is my duty to follow his wish. I can neither refuse nor talk my way out of this, as the people’s will is my will.”

“But if he wants a Confession, then he has to be innocent, right?” Grasping for understanding, Richard looked up and down the table and his friends. “I mean, no one would want that if they’re guilty… their crimes would be proven anyway.”

“My boy, imagine if they let go anyone that demanded a Confession to prove them innocent… what do you think would happen?” The Seeker just blinked at his grandfather, before the thought found its way through his head and to enlightenment. He lowered his head and Zedd nodded. “Yes, exactly. There would be no sense of right and wrong anymore. Everyone would ask for Confession, even if they only had to fear a penal fee or time in jail.”

“And although it’s hard to believe, some people would rather spend their life as slaves under Confession than face death,” Kahlan pointed out in a soft voice. She could see that this part of her duty was still bothering her fiance deeply and she feared that he might never come to accept it as what it was. His sense of justice was still to blinded by his compassionate heart to see the need that her duty brought with it.

“I… it’s hard to say it, but… I hope he is guilty. Maybe then he can at least atone for the things he has done, even if he is forced to do so.” Not even wanting to think about the other option, Richard pushed himself away from the table with a saddened look in his eyes, leaving the room to find another option to free his mind of the happenings.

When the rest moved to stand up and leave the Mother Confessor to her job, Kahlan hated herself when she decided to reach forward and touch the back of Noa’s hand.

“Noa… Cara. Stay here, please.”

The Mord’Sith twitched at the way she could hear the Confessor speaking. Kahlan’s voice would have held a pleading note, not this royal calmness.

Sitting back down slowly, they both looked at the brunette with different expressions: Cara’s was wary, uneasy, but their daughter’s eyes were curious and wide open. Oblivious.

Kahlan cursed the spirits. This situation would have come one day, but there was no point in pushing it away any longer, they would have to face this sooner or later.

Taking a deep breath, Kahlan held Noa’s hand more tightly and spoke gently, but with a underlying tone of urgency. “Look, Noa…” She faltered for a second. This was hard. “Noa, I want you to come with us to the dungeons and confess this man yourself.”

Kahlan could see that it had been a mistake, an unavoidable one, when she saw her daughter pale rapidly. A faint tremble raced through her limb and the curious expression was replaced with a look of panic.

“Mother–…”

“Listen to me,” Kahlan quickly went on, more gently, even more urgently. “There will be a time when you take over my throne as the rightful ruler of Aydindril and the Midlands. You are a Confessor and you’ll have to keep to the law and your duty just as I do. I know you are terrified of your powers and believe me, I can understand this better than anyone else, but you have to learn how to deal with them someday. There simply is no way around it.”

Noa ducked her head in a protective gesture, hunching on her seat. “No..” she half–moaned into the air.

“I’m so sorry, my sweet. But… you’re not alone with this. We’re going to deal with it together.” She squeezed the hand beneath her own, her eyes finding those of the older blonde.

Cara was not happy. Slightly flared nostrils, taut jaw, hard eyes, all of it indicators that the Mord’Sith hated the very idea of pressing her child into something she was so deeply afraid of. But even she knew how futile it was to raise a Mother Confessor that was afraid of using her magic once she took over her reign.

Her rule would lose all credibility and the nobles would rip her apart in the air, just waiting for a chance to get their hands on a Confessor they could pressure into abiding their will.

“Think about it,” Cara forced herself to say, the words feeling like thick, foul–tasting syrup on her tongue. “You know that your mother is right.”

Looking as if she were the one that had to await a death trial, the girl pressed her lips together until they were thin, bloodless lines of despair in her unhappy face. The helpless, defeated look was like a hot knife in her mothers hearts, while they watched Noa wrestle with her own demons.

It was moments like this that showed lines on her skin that a nearly fourteen year old wasn’t supposed to have. The scar beneath her right eye seemed to make her look tired and years beyond her actual age, but her voice was meek and childlike when she whispered a breathy “Okay” into the air.

There wasn’t much talking when they followed the Captain out of the castle, into the guard quarter that resided inside the castle perimeter and then down the heavily guarded dungeon entrance. Stony silent along the way, Noa gripped her dark–haired mother’s hand in a white–knuckled grip and only moved her head from the ground from time to time to check if Cara was still walking near her.

The Mother Confessor and her entourage drew strange looks, but no one dared to oppose their ruler. If she wanted to bring the Mord’Sith and the kid, be it for whatever reason possible, then it was her full right to do so. Only the Captain stopped once at the entrance to ask if the girl shouldn’t better wait outside, but Kahlan’s terse glance had him shut his mouth quickly before uttering the last word. Unknowingly, his care had earned him points with the parents, though.

Grey–brown stonewalls closed in on them, a pungent smell created by used air and human decay clinging to their noses and leaving behind a despicable taste in their mouths. The smoke and glimmering of the torch was almost a welcome distraction, as no ray of sunlight would ever grace the soil of this place.

It was like a walk to the slaughterhouse. The further they got inside, the more Noa fell back behind her mother, until it almost appeared as if she was being dragged after them.

It’s wrong, the motherly side of Kahlan shouted inside of her. This is so wrong. But the Confessor in her made her keep a tight grip on the smaller hand.

“The name of the supplicant?” She asked tersely, gaze turned forward.

Standing straighter at the protocol he was familiar with, the Captain inclined his head towards her. “General Amin Harren, Mother Confessor.”

“His accusation?”

“The death and torture of an uncountable number of rightful Midlanders, with the added weight of showing no regret for any of his past actions.”

“Does he plead innocent?”

“Yes.”

Cara flared her nostrils at this mocking show of pride, fitting for a D’Haran General. In the name of their Lord nothing was a crime, especially not the demise of useless pawns and peasants, but he spat in the face of Aydindril’s justice by claiming himself to be without blame.

“It is only rightful for him to feel the punishment of Confession,” Cara added with a subdued sneer, while taking a glance at her daughter.

Noa didn’t seem to be following the conversation. Her blank features and glazed over eyes made her look as if she had retreated into some kind of personal world, but the way she had her gaze riveted at the way forward under her lashes, irises not more than a pinpoint despite the darkness, caused Cara’s insides to twist uneasily.

There was something in it that reminded the Mord’Sith of damp cells, a sleep–depraved vision and the overwhelming presence of rats, all around her, tripping, the movement of little claws echoing off her ears and the very surface of her bruised skin…

Cara bit down on the inside of her cheek and snapped her gaze forward and into the present. Her drifting fingers had found the Agiel’s grip unconsciously, leather creaking unheard in the steps that resounded off the cold stonewalls.

In the total absence of their own voices they went deeper and deeper, down a flight of stairs and then another. An occasional whimper or moaning found its way into the shells of their ears, then drifted on into oblivion.

Cara was sure of it. This was not the place where petty thieves and low–life criminals were held.

From here on, it was straight down to the Keeper’s eternal torment in nine out of ten cases.

“Here it is,” the Captain suddenly pierced the oppressive silence, stopping next to a nondescript wooden door reinforced with steel and iron and causing everyone sans Noa to snap to attention. There was always only one side of the corridor that held all the cells, here it was the right one.

Waving over another, older guard that held a set of keys, the Captain held out his palm and waited until the other soldier placed a thick, long piece of metal down on it.

“The prisoner was made ready for your duty, ma’am,” the key–holder remarked with a bow before slinking back into his room.

When the Captain moved forward to open the lock, Kahlan placed a hand on his wrist.

“We’re fine on our own from here on. Thank you, Captain.” The words held a tone of finality, the sound of unhidden authority causing the soldier to hand her the key without talking back. Maybe a small part of him was relieved that he didn’t have to partake in the act of turning that would certainly take place in a few minutes.

“As you wish, Mother Confessor. I will wait in the guard room.”

They waited until he had placed the torch into an holder behind him and when his steps faded behind the open door, Kahlan slowly turned to her two companions. A feeling of trepidation was leaning heavily onto her neck. The day had started out so well and now it seemed as if all good feelings and memories had been left behind with the sunlight outside the prison, leaving them only with dark, heavy souls hiding inside their weary bones.

Pushing the key in the lock to get her hand free, she dragged her fingers through the mess of Noa’s tresses. The chaotic mass of curls, waves and straight wisps was both unrelenting and soft to her hand.

“Noa?” the brunette asked softly, raising her daughter’s face with a knuckle under her chin.

Kahlan nearly winced at the foreign look in the girl’s eyes. No trace of a smile was left in her features that had paled beneath the sunny tan of her skin.

“Are you ready?” she asked the smaller blonde with a dry mouth and cold veins.

“No,” Noa whispered, yet turned towards the door and away from Kahlan’s touch. That was all. The ‘but it’s my duty’ and ‘it’s not like I have a choice’ lay dormant and unspoken in the air.

Maybe you should be happy, mother, that you left us so early. It spared you the pain of doing this, Kahlan wondered with a pang of yearning for the strong and merciful Confessor that had born her and Dennee. It was good that her sister had written about her fading magic, it meant that she was also free from this kind of duty.

The Mother Confessor took a deep breath and some of the muscles in her face grew slacker, others more controlled. She let go of Noa’s hand that also didn’t have much strength left in it, raised the hood of her dress atop of her hair, then grasped the key and turned it around. The sound of the grating of metal against metal went straight down to their insides.

Cara gnashed her teeth, unhappy and on edge. But when her fingers strayed down to grasp her Agiels, she already found a smaller hand clutching at the hilt. It seemed that the very second Kahlan had let go of the girl, Noa had sought out another form of familiar comfort: Pain.

Despite the fact that Noa’s own Agiel was straped to the inside of her leg.

Cara couldn’t find the strength to pry away her daughter’s fingers.

The light from the floor fell into the small room, not bigger than three feet across and to the side. There was a big brick of clay in the corner that acted as a bed, a small hole in the other for human necessities. Everything was reduced to its basest need, keeping the prisoners alive, yet far from happy.

General Amin Harren was a tall man with accusing, dark eyes and a permanent frown etched into his face, more pronounced thanks to the long time he had spent captured between these four walls. His hair and beard had been cropped short out of hygienic reasons, emphasizing the deep, angry lines in his skin. It was obvious that he was of D’Haran blood, but the occasional forced labor in the sunlight had not been enough to preserve his natural tan.

Although he still seemed strong, ruffled, he wouldn’t be able to act as a threat, as his hands and feet had been chained to the wall behind him, forcing the General into a humble sitting position with his face turned toward his judges.

“General Amin Harren, you have been accused of the murder of Midland citizens and found guilty by the counsel. You requested your right for Confession. Do you still want to proceed or do you choose death by hanging?” Kahlan calmly forced out the protocol, hands folded in front of her stomach and her head raised, clearly stating her superiority without words or fancy medals.

She found herself silently appraised by the proud captured man, that would not bow his head even with two equally worse fates hanging over his head like a dark cloud. Then, seemingly finished with his gauging of her appearance, he spat in front of the Mother Confessor’s feet, missing the hem by mere inches.

Before Cara could surge forward to bring him unending pain for this show of insolence, Kahlan held up her hand in a simple, soothing gesture, as if sensing that the Mord’Sith would not let it pass without repercussion.

The prisoner’s eyes glanced over to the red–clad woman and sneered, disrespectfully looking down at her even while chained to the ground below Cara. It seemed as if he considered a Mord’Sith in the Confessor’s presence not only a betrayal to his Lord and Master, but also beneath his worth, leaving him to look past her to the girl that was standing slightly hidden behind her hip.

Lips twitching into a short grin that showed intact, yet yellowed teeth, he shook his head as if sad.

“A kid, I can’t believe it. Look at you all, standing here so proud and pure in front of me. It’s like a bad theater, really.” He paused, clicking his tongue. “I feel dirtier than after weeks without water on my body with you in my humble accommodations. But to answer your question, Confessor… I’d rather choose Confession than death, as that way I can still see one day how my Lord will wrench your pitiful heart out of your body, leaving me free to serve him as a loyal servant again.”

For a second it looked like he wanted to spit once again, but decided against it, leaning his head back only slightly to watch them out of half–lidded eyes.

Cara’s arm twitched and she took a sultry step forward, tilting her head. “What kind of brainless fool are you? You imagine that Rahl will take you back after you failed your task and lost your army, spending two years coddled in the enemies hands?” Amusement colored her tone. “Imprisonment must have fried a few of your brain cells.”

Unimpressed he pursed his lips. “At least I haven’t betrayed and back–stabbed him, crawling to my enemy like a spineless wench and begging for asylum. Do you get snacks for doing tricks, too?”

Kahlan’s shout of ‘Stop’ came to slow. Quick as red lightning Cara had drawn her weapon and pushed the tip against his proud chin, watching with satisfaction as he gurgled out half–screams from the pain. When the black veins threatened to reach his temples, she dragged it back, lazily trailing it along her own leather–clad collarbone while watching the man shake and gasp.

“Ah, sprouting such strong, brave words as if he’s so important. But in the end he’s just the same little useless weakling like all the others… You win, I won’t even try to change your mind about your Lord. You two fit together just perfectly.”

Mindful of the Mother Confessor’s slightly annoyed look for going against her orders, Cara slinked back with a pleased curl of her lips, leaving the stage for the brunette. Only shaking her head at the blonde, Kahlan stepped forward while at the same time turning her body so she faced both her companions and the prisoner.

“So be it,” she began, “you chose and it’s our duty to heed the will of the law and the people, be they noble, common or even imprisoned.”

Although covered in a fresh layer of sweat, General Harren had found his composure, furrowing his eyebrows at the use of the plural. Just using his eyes he glanced from Confessor to Mord’Sith and back.

“Noa. Please do what you have to,” Kahlan commanded in her Confessor’s voice, though a small hint of gentleness found its way through.

They grew silent as the girl stepped forward carefully, no distinct emotion or thought on her face, either because she managed to be stoic or because there was too much going on in her head that nothing could gain the upper hand in her expression.

In a show of support, Kahlan placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder, while the General’s eyes grew wide in a sudden flash of understanding. The clinking of metal was the only indication for his renewed struggle against his bindings.

To Kahlan’s surprise, Noa lifted her left arm instead of the right, as she had seen most Confessor’s do that used their right as their writing hand.

Without much ado or any sign of hesitation, the tanned fingers closed around the General’s throat, pressing the tips into the soft flesh that eased under her ministrations. It wasn’t enough to send the prisoner choking, but enough to make a point… it was merely unclear to whom.

The Mother Confessor had promised herself that she wouldn’t interfere, that she’d let Noa do this at her own pace. There was magic in the air alright, she could feel it prickling in her limbs, feel it pool at the back of her eyes and behind her breastbone as if the Confessor power in Noa resonated in her own

A glance in Cara’s direction confirmed that she felt it as well. Both her pupils were glued to the scene and the shadows in her face cast by the torchlight made it appear as if she was a statue created for the purpose of observing the unmoving figures for all eternity, but her fingers were clenched tightly into fists and her jaw was subtly flexing without stop.

The brunette could only wonder how the Mord’Sith might feel watching her own daughter exercise magic that was contrary to her whole being.

Time dragged on.

But to Kahlan it only felt like a flexing of magical muscles at the moment, as if there was a reason that Noa kept the magic coursing tamed inside her veins instead of letting it flow freely into the prisoner that had chosen this fate at her hand.

Kahlan decided to take a careful step forward to find out the cause for the staring match between a surprisingly silent and fearful General Harren and her offspring, yet the sight presented to her had the Confessor in her retreat and the mother come forward in an instant.

Her daughter’s expression wasn’t empty anymore.

The battle inside her younger mind now showed clearly on her grimacing face, feelings not hidden at all by the wisps of black fog curling lazily inside her iris. It was a colorful range of emotion: Disdain and aversion for the man sitting in front of her, conflict about the rightness of her actions, a touch of sympathy, frustration, past experience, forced control. Confusion. Despair. But most off all an overwhelming, all–infusing presence of deep–rooted fear that was slowly morphing into tendrils of naked terror.

Was it a mistake?… Creator, what am I doing to her?

“Noa–…” Moving forward again to grasp her child’s shoulder, Kahlan could experience firsthand how very fast Noa could become if she wanted to. Gliding out under her hand before a finger could touch her, the girl twisted away from her mother like a coiling snake, her appendage ripping away from the still unconfessed man with enough speed that her nails left behind deep, reddening scratches.

Heart in her throat, the Confessor couldn’t even take a breath before the smaller blonde swirled around and sprinted from the room as quick and silent as a passing gust of wind. Kahlan wanted to give pursuit, but before she had taken another step, Cara was there and pressed a red glove on her shoulder.

“Stay,” she answered shortly and for everyone but Kahlan it sounded like a brusque command. The look in her eyes, however, told the brunette all she needed to know. I’ll take care of her. Finish this first. Don’t worry.

Kahlan was confused and sad, worried and hurt, all of it at the same time, but her trust in the blonde reared its head and soothed her frayed nerves.

Nodding in Cara’s direction, the Confessor filled her lungs with stale air and straightened her back. It wouldn’t do to appear fearful in front of the prisoner that was watching them with squinted eyes, despite the fact that everything in Kahlan wanted to have a nervous breakdown.

When the Mord’Sith vanished around the corner, Kahlan wondered if she was able to find the fleeing girl. No guard would be able to stop the fleet–footed blonde, as long as the doors were open or at least not locked, which would be a possibility with a Confessor present. And then there was the problem that if Noa didn’t want to be found–…

“Having a little educational problem with your Confessor brood?” General Harren sneered from behind her.

He would realize that it had been a mistake. When the Mother Confessor turned around with an icy composure on her features, she drilled her blue, frosty gaze into his own dark one and stripped away layer after layer of his arrogance and boastfulness with ease, leaving behind the quivering form of a small, helpless man afraid for his life.

“Maybe,” Kahlan answered calmly, “but that won’t be your concern anymore, won’t it?”

She was at him in an instant. Black flodded the crisp blue, forced itself out of her palm and into his shivering skin, then down to his very substance before he was able to let out the tiniest gasp of surprise.

And then there was nothing but her.

“Command me, Confessor.”

* * * * *

Cara didn’t find Noa. After checking the most obvious spots, she started asking around who might have seen the distraught girl, but it was as if Noa had vanished from this side of the earth. It was no use. If the young Confessor didn’t want to be found, she was nothing more than a ghost. Even posting a guard in front of her door was wasted time, as Noa didn’t return to her room that night.

The mothers started to really worry when Noa was still missing during next day’s lunch.

Although it was quite amusing for the Mord’Sith to watch an edgy Kahlan threaten Zane with Confession if he refused to spit out Noa’s whereabouts, the advisor swore on his late parents’ grave that he had not seen his best friend since breakfast the day before and Kahlan could read the truth in his eyes.

It was then that they decided to send out the Home Guard. Both mothers left the palace to roam the city, sending soldiers left and right to comb the streets for any sign. Cara got interested when a younger recruit returned not with news about her daughter, but another curious happening that had her direct Kahlan toward the marketplace.

The Mother Confessor had been outwardly calm since the incident with the General that was now obedient like a puppy. But every time she moved or felt herself unwatched, Cara could see the lines of stress and tension in her muscles and in the way she held her hands tightly clenched against her middle. Kahlan was not taking her daughter’s reaction well.

The sight that greeted them on the market place was just the last drop to Kahlan’s guilt ridden mind.

A throng of children and young teens was dancing and hoping around near the middle, surrounded by joyous middle–aged and elderly people that clapped their hands in time to the beat of the music that a few men produced by rapping wooden sticks against tables and on the ground. A younger woman had conjured up a flute from somewhere, adding in to the happy scene with a lively melody.

There was fresh laughter, there was surprisingly unhidden happiness. An older couple past their fifties was dancing on the side with happy grins as if they had just returned to their youth.

And in the midst of it, as if directing the whole event with unseen, invisible strings, was the masked Jester twirling away seemingly without a care in the world. With bright red hair and scorched clothes as well as her mask, the young Confessor was an anonymous and mysterious figure in between the walls of the city that acted as her future kingdom.

“Mother Confessor?” the recruit carefully asked when he caught a glance at his ruler’s stony face, watching the scene without blinking. “Shall we… disband this gathering?”

“No.” Kahlan’s voice was barely past a whisper. Cara’s heart lurched painfully at the profound sadness latched to her tone and watched as the Confessor’s rigid, upright stance slumped in silent defeat. “No, leave them be. Gather the soldiers and return to the castle at once.”

“But the search–…”

“Is over. Heed your orders,” Cara snapped at the young recruit. He paled and saluted shakily, then vanished as quickly as he could to do what both women had told him, leaving them to return home without drawing any of the revelers attention to themselves.

The Mord’Sith managed to lead Kahlan back into her quarters and watched how Kahlan sat down boneless behind her desk with her face hidden behind her hands the second the door closed behind them. Deciding to give the brunette some space, Cara turned and reached out her hand, when the sound of a sharp intake of breath stopped her dead.

“Oh, Cara…” Kahlan asked into her hands pleadingly, “… what am I supposed to do? I can’t do that to her, I just can’t.”

It took two steps and a push to turn Kahlan’s chair in her direction. Cara sat down on one knee in front of the brunette and tried to gently pry the hands away from Kahlan’s face.

Washed–out blue swam behind the onset of tears. The sob that left Kahlan’s throat tore at the Mord’Sith worse than the sharp bite of a knife.

“Do what to her?” Cara asked in return with more gentleness than she thought she could possibly produce.

“This…this whole thing!” Kahlan replied with an aggravated flick of her hand that indicated everything around her, sadness turning into anger for one quick moment. “Forcing her to do the one thing she’s more afraid of than anything else. This isn’t just the normal fear young Confessors have of their power… this is terror. I’m terrorizing her, Cara!” Shoulders slumping, the heavier feeling returned.

“She can train. Maybe she just needs to get used to it, after all these years…” But Cara trailed off, knowing well enough herself that the unusual reaction Noa had portrayed wasn’t something you could just get over. It seemed as if Noa’s panic wasn’t just a painful scratch twitching painfully every time she used her Confessor magic, but a sore, festering wound that was deeper than flesh and bone could reach.

“I don’t want to take that from her,” Kahlan whispered, her voice choked up. “That carefree, thoughtless happiness she can give so freely to others. She’s been through so much and we’ve had yet so little of her… I’m not fit to make her a Mother Confessor while still being her mother. And I can’t go back to not being her mother, even after such a short time.”

There was a pause as Kahlan grasped for composure and words.

“I love her, Cara. I love her just the way she is, how I can only love my own flesh and blood and I… I…” Her last walls broken, the brunette broke into heavy sobs and tears, letting herself sink down to Cara and on her shoulder.

The blonde was unable to do anything but hold the trembling woman close to herself, stroking her hair with gloved fingers and unable to make any soothing sounds, as she didn’t know how. So she did the same as she had done when trying to ease her child’s sadness.

Trying to support, telling she was there through the grip of her hands and arms, while letting grief take its natural cause.

Kahlan wept bitterly and after a moment of indecision, Cara laid her arm around the Confessor’s neck and dragged her closer until a teary cheek was buried against her jaw. Wrapped in the cocoon of safety that was the Mord’Sith, touching and smelling the sun kissed skin so close to her, the brunette calmed down after a while, her breath turning calm and unshaken again without her moving away from the freely given embrace.

It was a small moment of peace for them both.

But Kahlan was drained and her soul still sore, so the gentle heat that the blonde radiated eased her heavy limbs so much that she was unable to get up or even open her eyelids. It only took a few minutes for the Confessor to fall asleep in Cara’s arms.

The Mord’Sith, aware of Kahlan’s deepening breathing pattern, only started to scowl when her knees proclaimed their annoyance at the inactive position.

Great. I finally have the woman I want in my arms and she’s knocked out cold. Heaving a sigh and grabbing the Confessor carefully as not to wake her, she painstakingly moved the taller woman around until she was draped over her arms, head resting against the blood–red armor.

Taking the longer route while trying to meet as few people in the castle as possible, Cara had almost reached Kahlan’s personal chambers, when Richard zoomed around the corner, his eyes lighting up at the sight of them both. It only held for a second, before worry clouded his features.

“Cara! Is Kahlan alright?”

The sore glance the blonde threw him had the Seeker flinch in guilt. A closer look told him that Kahlan was simply peacefully asleep and that his raised voice was quite out of place.

“I’m sorry,” he began anew, much quieter this time. “Is everything okay?”

“She had a long night,” Cara answered evasively. “She… fell asleep in her working chambers.” Well, that was no lie.

“Oh.” Richard danced around on his feet nervously, as if something weighed on his mind. “I… didn’t know she had so much to do.”

Cara didn’t move a muscle, watching her lord with an unexpressive face. Squirming under that relentless gaze, Richard finally admitted, “I don’t see her that much at the moment.”

“Kahlan has a lot on her mind,” Cara elaborated, trying to end the conversation quickly as well as making her lord feel a bit less frustrated about the fact that she had seen his fiancee more often than him. “About the kingdom, and Noa.” And other things I’m never going to tell you as long as you don’t command me to.

“Alright… well, if I can help in any way…” he smiled a weak, soft smile. “You know, just give a shout.”

The blonde couldn’t help but smirk back, even if untold truths buzzed at the back of her consciousness. “I’ll tell you if there are any kittens or damsels in distress keening for help.”

Richard gave her a mock–offended look, one wrist laying easily on his sword pummel in an obvious heroic stance, easing it up with a boyish smile. Then he pushed a lock of hair out of Kahlan’s face with such yearning gentleness that Cara suddenly felt a possessive need to slap his hand away. She bit the inside of her cheek until it bled to punish herself for the disobedience, yet couldn’t help but subtly press the sleeping body closer to her chest.

“I’ll go then and meet Zedd. He wants to do more Seeker training,” Richard playfully rolled his eyes, “you know, ‘cause you never learn out and all that.”

“Have fun,” Cara mumbled with a forced upward twitch of her lips, before slowly resuming walking down the hallway. She didn’t look back if Richard moved on or watched her go away.

It was almost a relief to finally close the door of Kahlan’s chamber behind her and laying back against it. Cara heaved a deep breath and went on to gently lay the Confessor down on the covers of her bed. It took some time and handling to pull the duvet over the sleeping woman, but it was all worth it when the blonde got an unhindered view of Kahlan’s relaxed face, only a few dark curls clinging to her cheek.

Unable to pull away just yet, Cara pulled off her gloves and dragged her fingers through Kahlan’s soft hair, marveling at the rich color.

The Mord’Sith leaned down, slowly.

When her lips brushed the soft, light skin next to the Confessor’s brow, Kahlan released a sigh that could almost pass as her name, making Cara press her face closer to the sleeper. It was wonderful to be this close to the woman she, dare she say it, loved like no other. It was like a balm to the soul that even just an innocent kiss like this could bring.

Kahlan exhaled and rolled deeper into the cushions, a relaxed smile on her face. Not daring to steal a kiss from her lips while the woman was sleeping, Cara pressed another affectionate one to the brunette’s forehead, before leaving Kahlan to her land of dreams.

There, Cara knew, Kahlan would find no heartache and pain for this night.

Part 27

“The good thing is: Noa learned the history of Aydindril.”

The mothers raised their eyebrows at the older man. “And…?”

Zedd sighed. “The bad thing is… Noa learned the history of Aydindril.”

“You’re not making sense anymore, wizard,” Cara grumbled.

“In the five months that Noa spend at the palace and got taught by me, the history of Aydindril is the only thing she remembers in great detail… and that’s only just because Zane made an impromptu theater with stick figures and strange, made–up accents.”

Cara groaned and buried her head in her hands.

That had been about two hours ago and now the Mord’Sith was slamming open the doors to the common room they all regularly used, pacing up and down the stone floor next to the richly adorned carpet with an annoyed frown marring her face.

It took a few seconds to realize that she wasn’t alone.

Zane looked up from his place on the window sill, where he sat sprawled before the magnificent view of the lower city part covered in a fresh layer of nightly fallen snow. He was plucking at a violin, seemingly adjusting the strings to achieve the perfect notes.

“What’s got you so riled up, Aunti?”

Cara gnashed her teeth. It seemed the advisor had thought long and hard about the last time he had called her ‘Mom’ and decided with great seriousness that Cara, sadly, could not replace his late mother and that she was much more like a long lost aunt and, of course, integrated that fact with such a glee and happiness in his day–to–day talk, that it was already driving the blonde up the wall. Not that it stopped the younger man.

“Don’t call me that,” she growled at him, only taking a short glance in his direction.

“Ah, Zedd’s been talking to you, hasn’t he?” Zane concluded, plucking at a string and producing a clear sound that echoed off the walls. Scrunching up his face, he obviously wasn’t content with the result and adjusted it once again at the violin head.

Coming to a stop near the sofa, Cara plopped down on it with a sigh. Strangely enough, even though she wanted to strangle him more times than she could count, it was the most rewarding to talk to him instead of anyone else of her friends. Kahlan was too raw, too deeply depressed about the whole issue and Zedd was as helpful in this as a teaspoon. Talking with Richard –… was the worst idea and would only end in uncomfortable and embarrassing moments. But Zane, he was… for lack of another word, it had the kind of effect as if she was bouncing ideas around in her own mind while talking to him.

Well, minus the sarcastic, biting comments similar to a knife point turning in her flesh. Most times, she was ready to strip someone’s skin off after having one of their discussions.

But then she knew he wouldn’t blabber around. Having his eyes and ears everywhere that counted, the advisor had a way of keeping secrets and information packed tightly close to him, safely behind these sharp, calculating grey eyes, so unfitting with the rest of his average looks. With a prickle of nostalgic interest in her neck, Cara wondered secretly if his big mouth really was just for show, or if he could withstand a Mord’Sith questioning longer than anticipated.

Another light note ripped her out of her musings.

“They all put hope in the fact that Noa is a Confessor,” she began out of nowhere. “Too much hope. For so long Kahlan was suspected to be the last one, then there comes our child, as if she was the answer to all their desperate wishes and prayers.” Cara kneaded the knuckles of her fist with a dark look. “But it’s not that simple.”

“I guess our little wonder girl put everyone’s expectations too high without intending to,” he said while looking up and gazing at nothing. “They all saw how she can do a double–somersault from a standing position and outmaneuver a dozen guards and suddenly everyone thinks ‘Hey! Ruling will be a piece of cake for the kid!’”

Zane threw a look outside the window, watching a few lonely snow flakes drift lazily on a cold breeze from the mountains. The weather was getting better, slowly. “You know, that’s why I took the job as advisor without second thought. She’s going to need a lot of help once you throw her out to the wolves, someone to watch her back.”

His eyes drifted back to Cara’s hunched over form. “Her reign’s not gonna be an easy one.”

Strangely tired of the whole business, the Mord’Sith propped her chin up on her interlaced fingers. Another short trial note filled the room, followed by the longer first test of the violin bow.

And who can take the blame? There’s a whole country depending on her and there is nothing we or anyone else can change about it. The people need her help desperately, especially with Rahl back in power.

“Then we need more time. More chances for Noa to learn what’s needed. I hate to make her do this, but if she takes over her rule unprepared, if she becomes the next Mother Confessor without the right foundation… I don’t want to think about the consequences this would have for her. How much worse she would feel if she failed at ruling.” Cara rubbed her brow, feeling a headache coming up. “We’ll just… keep on with her lessons until–”

“She’s not stupid, you know.”

Cara glanced at him, watching how he lured the first notes of a slow, haunting song from his instrument. The melody was unknown to her. “What?”

“Noa,” he explained without his eyes leaving the violin. “She’s quite aware that she couldn’t meet your expectations, that you’re informed and frustrated of her lack of progress. She’s afraid that you might think of her as a failure. That she is inept.”

“Never,” Cara interrupted with conviction. We are proud of our daughter, no matter what.

“That you might turn your eyes from it and not speak it out loud, but that despite all of it, this’ll be the sad truth,” he went on as if never hearing Cara speak.

The blonde jumped up from her seating position, hands clenching and unclenching. “No.”

“I’ve been her best friend since just about a year, but I can sense something in her, about her. Noa has been restless since a few days and I believe she might come to a decision, soon.” A pause. “All three of you are caught in a curious dance around each other, a very interesting one I might add, but if one of you doesn’t change something about it, it’s going to end in a disaster. I can assure you that.” He smiled cheekily at her, as if the weight of his words wasn’t connected to this whole situation at all.

“What do you even know?” Cara hissed at him, already riled up enough by about everything lately. “Say all that like it’s all so important and grave and then go on and think nothing of it? You have no idea what’s going on, so don’t try and play with us as if we’re some… some kind of puppets dancing for your own personal amusement.”

Unperturbed by her anger, his play went on. Skilled as he was, he coaxed one melody after the other from his instrument, easily blending the changes. “You know,” he began in an off–hand tone, “sometimes I wonder if I was born for this, handling the ones around me like the strings of an instrument. Maybe, maybe not. But believe me, one thing I can attest to is that I can read the signs.”

The look he gave her from above the instrument’s wooden body was heavy with meaning and Cara suddenly felt herself getting defensive. “What are you talking about?”

“Dear Richard may be purposefully keeping himself dumb like a trunk by twisting his powers however it pleases him, but I’m not that gifted. Although I may not be a Seeker or a Confessor or whatever is the trend these days, I do see the things as they are because I face even the uncomfortable truths. And you and Kahlan are such big, obvious beacon lights for me it’s almost laughable.”

Cara had to force herself to stay still. She kept herself just barely from attacking the advisor and throwing him out of the window. Yes, he might be more keen and intelligent as anyone she’d met, but in return for getting a hint about the knowledge his insight gained one had to pay a hefty price. Zane was almost as much of a double–edged sword as Shota herself.

“If you tell any living or dead soul about this…” the Mord’Sith threatened with a growl.

Zane looked at her incredulously and the fact that it truly seemed as if he believed her statement to be an affront against him calmed her down somewhat. “Why should I? That’s your own mess and I may like flirting with danger, but I’m still a healthy step away from suicidal, thank you very much. I can imagine what consequences that might have.”

For a second his features turned sour. “And just so you know: I don’t sell my friends.”

His haughty behavior returned in an instant. “I’m simply telling you how it is, either you have to make a decision or you need to be more careful… and it’s not like you don’t know that yourself, hm?”

Sneering at the young man and then turning back around and away from his mock innocent face, the blonde sat back down on the sofa and crossed her arms and legs in a gesture of annoyance. She hated it, but not only was he right, Cara realized with a flash of honest surprise that she really trusted his opinion. Other than Dahlia, the young advisor had certain qualms and resolutions he wouldn’t cross and that made her feel somewhat relieved that he was her friend and not her foe. However nerve grating that friend was.

It didn’t keep her brain from working, though, turning back to the overlaying problem and the person behind it.

Noa was insecure and it was no wonder. Yes, they hadn’t talked to her about her lack of progress, but it really was no great revelation that the girl knew something was wrong. Despite all of it, she’s just a kid. And yet, ‘because’ of all that, she’s so much more. It’s a vicious circle.

It was as if they had all the pieces of the puzzle, everything that was needed to achieve a happy life and ease all their troubles. But it was thanks to all their darned feelings that the pieces didn’t fit together. It was hard, nearly maddening, to have all answers laid out before you perfectly, but out of your reach just so that your fingertips only scratched at the edges.

Darn it all to the underworld and back. It was all so much easier when I only had to mindlessly follow Lord Rahl’s words and the end of my Agiel.

As if sensing her deep brooding and deciding that he had picked at her nerves enough for this day, Zane switched tactics.

“Relax and listen, Aunti, I taught myself a D’Haran classical piece for your enjoyment.”

“Oh, be quiet, you,” she grumbled in return.

The first notes sent her back to a different time, a different place, but for once it were memories not connected with bad feelings or troubles. It was a fragment of what had once been home and the blonde was almost grateful to listen to it in a place where family and friends were near and no screams would greet her at the end of day.

Cara let her mind be eased and drawn away by the soulful music that filled the room, stealing a moment of peace from the calm, familiar notes and Zane’s quiet.

If there was only time.

* * * * *

“You should have told me!”

“I just thought that…”

“Looks like you didn’t think enough. Shouldn’t we be making those decisions together?”

They had been arguing since a while. The sun had been about to hide behind the horizon and now it seemed as if the ball of fire had fled even quicker from the ongoing argument the Confessor and the Mord’Sith traded back and forth about their offspring. Feelings were already running high since weeks, with all the strains on their emotions and all the problems that had surfaced, all of it stacking up until the boiling point.

Which appeared to be very, very close. Without realizing, both women were getting less and less reasonable and more personal by the second.

Right now, the taller woman was near the point of screaming, even more now that Cara was ready to strangle her after finding out that Kahlan had send Noa’s teachers out of the castle without consulting her. “I told the teachers that we needed some time for consideration, not that we wouldn’t need them anymore. If we send them home for just a while..”

“We can’t do that, not now. If we stop, Noa will think we’re not taking this serious or that she did something wrong. Keeping to normalcy is the only logical action,” the Mord’Sith repeated for what seemed to be the umpteenth time, stressing it once again. Frustration was evident in her voice.

Annoyed at Cara’s constant refusal, Kahlan started to slip into the same role she used against especially stubborn nobles in the council room, folding her hands together over her lower stomach. “I simply believe it’s going to be best if we paused her training for a period of time. As the ruling instance, it’ll be important for her to choose the correct way of action. A pause is what my instincts tell me–..”

Cara snorted, aware of the change and refusing to let herself be pushed around like any ordinary Midlander. “Oh, so you think just because you’re her mother since five months that your opinion weighs more than mine? After I got her away from the abuse and hatred of the villagers?” She crossed her arms and took a step away from the brunette. “Excuse me, your highness, for doubting that a Mord’Sith’s word may count as much as that of a Confessor.”

“Hey…”

“Don’t mock me Cara, and most of all, don’t bring my status into this!” Kahlan shot back, pointing a warning finger at her. “You might have been with her for a longer time, but I’m her mother, too!”

“Well, how about you act like it, instead of gazing down on us from your royal peak!”

“Uh, guys…”

In the heat of flaring anger and frustration, both women stepped nearer to each other, very close to jumping at their throats. Kahlan lowered her eyes at the blonde at the insult. “You know what? If you believe me to be so high above you, maybe I’ll do just that! And the first thing I’ll do is give you a nice, long thinking period in the dungeons!”

“Try it, Confessor!”

“Maybe it will thaw your darned ice armor!”

“Or cool your infantile hothead!”

“You–… you insolent, snappy… pighead!” the Mother Confessor stammered in shocked rage.

“Says the prude with the stick in her–”

“Will you two stop ignoring me!”

Interrupted in the middle of throwing more petty insults at each other, they turned their heads with half–open mouths towards the source of their disturbance.

There stood the reason this argument came to pass, one hand still on the opened door and an irritated look beneath her knitted eyebrows. It made her mothers feel like having been found with their hands in a cookie jar and they righted themselves in an instant, awkwardly clearing their throats.

“Good. Now that you’ve stopped behaving like someone my age, can I talk to you?” the girl asked with a grumble.

Still sending half–glares at each other out of the corner of their eyes, but refusing direct eye contact, they stepped apart with a huff.

Cara was the first to speak, feeling not quite as insulted by the Mother Confessor as Kahlan did by her. Pighead was hardly serious name calling for a Mord’Sith. It was only the hot turmoil of feelings that didn’t have her bursting out laughing at that.

“What is it?”

Stepping inside and closing the door behind her, Noa came closer with her hands hidden behind her back and gaze slightly turned in the direction of the ground. The girl looked as if she hadn’t been sleeping well since a while and all traces of anger still lingering in both women’s minds vanished in a cloud of compassion at that sight.

And yet there was a certain kind of finality in Noa’s walk and the way she held her head.

“I know…there have been… problems concerning my education. And…me.” When she looked upwards, Confessor and Mord’Sith had the decency to look ashamed. Who knew how much Noa had listened to, before deciding to interrupt.

“And I can tell that it’s probably not very easy on all of you. But there’s little I can do to change it, ’cause all that learning stuff is… pretty hard for me.”

Noa nibbled at her lower lip and leaned her lanky body a little to the right, watching the nightly curtain of the sky behind the window on the other side. “So… I guess… maybe it’s better if I take up Shota’s offer and go away for a while. But not because I’m giving up on my future duty! I don’t, believe me, just… maybe if she can help me control myself a bit more then it might help with everything else too.”

A worried sigh told them all that Kahlan wasn’t very fond of the idea, despite all that had happened. “Noa, I know it looks like a good idea and option, but we can’t trust Shota that far…”

“I know, she’s betrayed you before, Zedd told me about it.” The smaller blonde scratched at her forehead with a contemplative shake of her head. “But I thought it over. She can’t hurt me, not with me being able to block her magic. And I’m sure she can’t talk me into anything I don’t want to either.”

Gazing into both her parents’ worried faces, Noa spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s the only chance I have to learn more about my power. Zedd can’t help, he already tried. What if the witchwoman isn’t lying? I need to find out the truth about that or I might regret it forever.”

Their animosity forgotten, Kahlan and Cara exchanged a thoughtful glance. Was it really save for Noa to go there? Would Shota trick them once again or truly help their child? Was it worth the risks?

Maybe it was a chance to combine both Kahlan’s and her own decision into one

Cara strolled closer to the girl, looking down into the troubled colors. “Are you sure about this? We have dictated your life since the moment you stepped into the palace, but this time I…” she turned her head as if to glance at the brunette behind her, “…we will give you free choice.”

The Mother Confessor offered them both a nod and a small smile, showing her consent.

“I thought about it,” her daughter replied with conviction, “and… I… admit I’m not sure at all. But I feel I have to do this.” Noa’s features changed, turning foxy. Cara liked to call it her ‘sneaky face’. “But only under one condition.”

Kahlan blinked, confused. “Condition?”

Licking her lips as if taking a moment for added courage, Noa looked first at Kahlan, then at Cara. “I want you two to accompany me there. Only you two.”

Slumping her shoulders and opening her mouth in obvious sad refusal, the girl interrupted before her brunette mother could get a word out.

“I know you have your duties! But surely Zedd can take over your council role for a while and it’s not that far to Agaden Reach. You’ll be gone for… three, maybe four weeks if snow falls,” she quickly supplied, walking over to Kahlan. “You can make it a… state visit to the witch. With Cara as your bodyguard or… something.”

“Noa…”

“Please, mother,” the girl softly asked with a beseeching glimmer in her gaze. “We never had a chance to be together, only the three of us. I… I only want to spend time with my family, for the first time in my life. I swear I’ll do anything I can to become a good Confessor once I’m back from Shota.”

Kahlan watched her daughter’s pleading expression for a while, then looked up to Cara.

There were many conflicting emotions in the Mord’Sith’s gaze she didn’t bother to hide behind her trained mask, but the brunette was unable to decipher a specific one.

Could she deny them this small indulgence? Could she deny Noa this one wish?

The answer was clear from the beginning.

“Of course,” Kahlan answered with a soft smile, placing a hand on her child’s shoulder and squeezing. “I know there are other ways you could get to Agaden Reach, but I’m sure I can take this time away from Aydindril. We’ll go together, all three of us.”

Noa’s whole, tense frame eased with the happiness that spread in her and she couldn’t help a short laugh that wiped away days of stress from her features, turning her back into the young, carefree teenager that glowed with anticipation.

“Oh, this is great! I’ll go and tell Zane and…and pack my things… and… we need horses and food, too!”

Watching with a shake of her head how Noa bounded out of the room, Cara threw a “Don’t hurt yourself!” after her before turning back to the Confessor. Kahlan was watching her calmly and both women remembered the argument they had been having just moments before without speaking it out loud. There were some things that couldn’t be cleared that easily.

“I hope it’s okay for you?” Kahlan asked softly.

Cara pursed her lips, quickly nodding her head. “Yes. I’m not sure about Shota, but… we earned the right to spend some days alone with our… daughter.” Somehow, it was still an unbelievable, wonderful feeling when she spoke it out loud. Noa’s a gift. It’s really time we remembered that.

“Then we’ll head out in a few days?”

“I’ll go and see what we’ll need, while you inform whoever has to know about our departure,” the blonde confirmed and left the room, before the tension between them could become strained again.

These could become a long four weeks for Cara.

* * * * *

Although just as unsure about the witch’s intentions as everyone else, Zedd stood behind their decision to leave and ushered them to depart as soon as possible, now that the council was still tamed. Both the family bonding as well as the teaching appeared to be a good idea at the heart of the matter and he prayed that turning Noa over into Shota’s hands was not a step in the wrong direction.

Hence Kahlan found herself packing two days later, ready to be on horseback by the light of the next day, when Richard carefully strolled in through her door and leaned against the wooden frame, observing how she folded her change dress for the package.

“So, I hear you’re leaving for a while?” he began in a plain tone as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but Kahlan could detect the traces of sadness and hurt in it. They hadn’t spoken much since she became so stressed because of her daughter and when the Seeker realized he couldn’t help her with her problem – instead it seemed as if his presence made her even more agitated – he decided to give her some space for a while.

“Richard..” she began, sounding apologetic.

He waved her off, pushing himself away from the door encasing. “No, no, it’s fine. You earned this time with your daughter. You both did.”

Richard meant what he said, she could feel it, but it didn’t keep the other feelings from traveling with the current. He was hurt, by her way of action, and leaving him behind didn’t help the matter at all. And he had every right to feel this way, especially after the way she treated him these past days. It was only her luck and burden to be promised to such an understanding and indulging man.

Quickly coming close to him, she enfolded his warm cheek with the palm of her hand, trying to chase away the troubled curtain clouding his brown eyes with her mere presence. It worked, if not as much as she had hoped.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Kahlan tried again, stroking her thumb over his skin, “but there was so much going on in my mind. When I’m back, things will change, I promise.”

Because when I come back, there will only be you again. I only have to find a way. I have to.

She forced any memory of Cara’s intense green gaze and gentle lips out of her mind and filled it with the image of her fiance. But Richard still appeared distant, as if he was treading her presence with caution without realizing why.

“Kahlan, promise me something,” he suddenly started up. Not exactly sure where he was going, but deeming it important nonetheless.

“Anything.” She searched his gaze, but with him as unsure as herself there was nothing to read but a contrary mixture of uncertainty and resolve.

“You know I love you with all my heart – and I mean it. All I ever, ever want is for you to be happy. I know you’re troubled and it tears me up inside that I can’t help you… but…” he grasped for words, gazing deeply into her eyes.

“Yes?”

Placing both hands around her head, he pushed his forehead against hers and swallowed deeply, closing his lids tightly. “Promise me, no matter what, that you’ll be happy. Whatever it takes. I need to see you smile again. Okay? And then… maybe… we can be happy together?”

Oh Creator, Kahlan thought with gathering tears, he sounds like a lost child. So full of trust and hope. How could she hurt someone that loved her so? What kind of woman was she, that she couldn’t be happy with this pure feeling he gave her and instead yearn for the love of another? “I’ll try, Richard,” she breathed with a choked up voice, taking deep breaths to keep her composure. “I promise I’ll try. For you.”

Maybe, one day, I’ll be happy again. Maybe one day you will be all I need once more. Maybe. Or maybe not.

“That’s all I can ask of you. Thank you.” Pressing a soft, heartfelt kiss against her brow and hugging her close, he whispered a ‘safe journey’ into her ear and left her to finish her packing.

It took several minutes for the Confessor to fight down her want to weep and instead move back to her traveling pack.

These could become a long four weeks for Kahlan.

* * * * *

“Keep safe, all three of you,” Zedd shouted with a smile, standing behind to watch the start of their journey along with his grandson and the shivering advisor.

There was only a light fall of snow after a few days of clouded sunshine troubling their departure, as the winter was slowly coming to a close. With any luck, this was the last snow flakes they had to see this year, at least down in the woods they were traveling in. Up in the mountains near Agaden Reach more snow even during spring was a given.

Waving at the three men standing under the archway of the city gate, Kahlan took a breath of the fresh, crispy air and turned back around to see her daughter spurring her own horse on with loud hollering, dashing along the trader route they were following with high spirits and a free mind. It was a sight that caused her to chuckle and, as if affected by Noa’s good mood, leading her horse closer to Cara’s once the great city had become smaller at their back.

“Look, Cara… about our fight…” Kahlan began slowly, wanting to wipe the slate clean before they spend days stuck with each other and this argument unresolved between them, unnecessarily straining their friendship. And after thinking long and hard about it (when didn’t she think long and hard about her problems lately?), she had come to the decision that maybe Cara had had a point with her reasoning. She shouldn’t have treated the blonde the way she had.

“…I just want to say…”

“You know,” Cara suddenly interrupted in a normal tone without looking at her, “she’s getting ahead pretty quickly. I guess we need to hurry to keep up. If you’re up to it, I mean.” With that the smaller woman turned her gaze towards the Confessor and Kahlan could see the first glimmer of a challenge in it.

The brunette couldn’t help but smile, one corner of her mouth lifting up quickly. “Oh, so you’re calling me slow? Marla and I could outrun your horse any day.”

“Sure you could. If I fell off and broke my neck, that is. Otherwise I’m going to leave you behind in a cloud of dust.”

Both women exchanged a look of friendly rivalry and with just that alone Kahlan knew she had been forgiven everything without it being spoken out aloud. With the horse moving beneath her body, the travel dress and fur clinging to her skin and Cara riding right next to her, it was almost as if they were back on the road during their journey to the Stone of Tears.

And it felt good.

As if all fell behind with the city, laying dormant and waiting for their return. But right now Kahlan felt a sense of freedom she had been missing for months rejuvenating her mind and soul and stoking the fire of competition in her to the point that her heart already started to race in a sudden bout of anticipation.

“Care to test that?” Kahlan taunted while her mare felt the energy that her rider exuded, dancing on the spot and longing to run free.

“Get ready to lose,” Cara shot back with a flash of white teeth, her horse bucking and then shooting on in a cloud of thrown up dirt and snow.

The brunette laughed and gave chase.