LOTS - CARA/KAHLAN

Cold

seven_3_oh (Amanda)

Author: seven_3_oh (amanda)

Pairing: Cara/Kahlan

Fandom: legend of the seeker

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 7,598

Summary: Set in Season Two of the television series, ‘Legend of the Seeker’. The continuation of the AU combination of the television series (from mid season 2) and the book verse. You would be well advised to read, “Honesty”, “Away” & “Primary” before jumping in.

Disclaimer: “Legend of the Seeker”, its characters, and the situations depicted on the show are the property of ABC Studios, Disney, et all, as well as Terry Goodkind. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.

Author’s Note: Please read all previous parts otherwise you will be lost. Trust me. And while you are trusting me, trust that this will be dark, disturbing, odd, euphoric, and emotionally (possibly) off-putting tale. While I believe in happy endings, I do not believe they come easily. Welcome back to Epic Airlines, please fasten your safety belts; exits are two in the front, two in theback.

Date: 04.21.2010

Cold

seven_3_oh (Amanda)

PROLOGUE

War is a living, breathing thing. And like any living thing, it too can die.

The scent of a battle field is rife with the myriad of humanity, from blood and bile, to excrement and tears. Occasionally the smoke of cleansing fire covers the ground with concealing comfort. Other times the land is brittle and stark under the illuminated mid day sun. A battle field is beautiful as it is horrible. It is just and it is wrong.

She walked through the field, where one day, when the bodies have decayed to nothing she knows there will be leagues and leagues of wild flowers. Beauty feeding off of the ugliness of war.

The thick smoke embraced wind pulled at her long black cloak as she walked, over stepping fallen soldiers, some in red and black tunics, others in those of black and green. Faces once at odds, now connected in death.

The sights around her don’t mean much. She sees them, and she understands them, but they do not evoke an emotional response. How could they? She has only known war. The war was born in another land, and it thrived and grew and lived for some thirty years, before it came here to die. War was in her blood, it was the ever present guiding hand of a parent. The thought of not falling to sleep with the sound of battle drums and the biting clarity of steal on steal is something that she believes will take much time in getting used to.

Those following behind her are silent, respectful to the death of war. The battle field they cross is like the arm laying across the bed, lifeless, powerless. She is focused in her intent. She is walking this path to reach the head of war, to walk into the massive place ahead of her, where all of this sprung.

The gates are open, bent and sighing as they are, cracked open by wizard’s fire and the determination of man, but she knows there will still be richness and beauty within. Tales of this place have often caused her to wonder what it would really be like, to see it. The grandeur of the People’s Palace.

In tents where generals and officers bent over carefully drawn images, where plans were hatched this palace was a place of unrelenting truth, the one place they could not enter, they could not break through her defenses or scale her walls.

In the hush, and concealing darkness of night she had listened intently to the tales of those who had once been inside of her formidable walls. They told her of marbles, in every color of imagining. Stories of beautiful sanctuaries in the middle of this chaotic city where whispers were carried on the backs of small golden fish in marble lined ponds. Where flowers grew all the year round.

As she walked between her welcoming gates, she is not disappointed. The stones beneath her feet are well worn, and still, the spirit of this place seems to embrace her, welcoming her. In the center of the main courtyard open to the cold grey sky, which is large enough for a modest castle to reside in, she paused, looking at what is at the heart. A masterpiece of living stone. Standing easily thirty feet tall, and still it had such amazing clarity that she is sure that if she were to touch it, she would find it warm. Alive.

The woman, standing, chin raised in pride and nobility, eyes gazing out to the distance, the protector and the embodiment of justice. A sword in her hand, its tip pointing into the western distance, her body wearing a familiar dress, the bottom of which appeared loose, almost seeming to catch the faint wind that moves her own dark hair in front of her blue eyes.

She hears the familiar footsteps behind her, and shirks off her heavy wool cloak, handing it to the closest woman in black leather. Slowly she approaches the foot of the statue, her eyes rising up to again see that noble gaze, and her fingers absently trace the first letter of the name carved in the pedestal.

The letter K.

Sighing she looks up again, at the striking and intelligent face, rendered perfectly in white marble. The face that she barely remembers.

“She was beautiful.” The High General says as he too pauses to appreciate such a wonderful monument.

“Yes. I suppose she was.” She offers, eyes looking one last time.

“Should we proceed?” He asks.

“Yes. We should.”

Much like the field of battle, the interior of the People’s Palace seemed painfully quiet. The mass exodus of D’Hara’s citizens had taken place months before, leaving only a few final garrisons. Those remaining fought valiantly, as she expected they would. There was never any doubt that the war would be long and painful to all sides, but as she well knew, there were times when things needed to be done because they were just.

She moves away from the imposing statue, almost feeling the gaze of its eyes on her, running down her back, assessing her. The weight of such a stare was something she was very used to.

Two of her personal guards open the massive golden doors, and fleetingly she notices the intricate detail on them, in relief the detail is of the mountains and the city of Aydindril far away from here. If one did not know the history between the Midlands and D’Hara they would think that image strange. But those who knew the legends, they understood the significance of such a memorial, as well as the significance of the woman staring at it.

Inside the doorway, as if he had been waiting, is a man. His arms are loosely crossed; his hair only held the slightest hints of grey in an otherwise dark shadow. His smile is warm in appearance, but insincere. He seems both pleased and enraged to see her standing there. She knew it, because had the war’s outcome been reversed she would be feeling the same.

“Greetings, Lord Rahl.” She offers, her eyes not moving from his.

“Such formality? At a time like this?” he asks, his hand settling on the hilt of his sword.

“It seems appropriate.” Her eyebrow lifting, but her face is cold.

“If that is how you wish it to be.”

She does not bother to respond.

With a sigh he acquiesces to her terms, and with a wave of his hand, “Welcome to the People’s Palace, seat of D’Hara and her empire. I, Lord Rahl surrender to you, Queen Carys Amnell of Galea. Or should I simply refer to you as Mother Confessor?”

She glares at him as her arms cross over her the white material of her dress.

His razor sharp eyes stare hard at her. “You look so much like your Mother when you do that.”

Feeling her lips smirk she asks, “Which one?”

He ran his tongue across his teeth, his vision blurring for a moment, before the weight of his dark gaze and the history he knows returns and he simply replies, “Both actually.”

* * * * *

30 years prior

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“Do not look at it again.” Raina snapped, knowing that behind her Berdine had opened the journey book again. How she had known, as she was easily five feet in front of her, Berdine did not know. Then again, she learned a long time ago that questioning Raina and her knack for knowing was never a good idea.

“But.” She started to argue.

“I mean it.”

Berdine sighed, slipped the book back into the small pouch and set it beside her on the log. Perhaps Raina was right. It was been over a two fortnights since they fled Aydindril and still not a word from Cara. She reached over her shoulder, grabbing her long braid. Distractedly she ran her palm over the blunt ends of her chestnut hair, the ends soft against her skin. She couldn’t help but worry. Her eyes went to the small leather pouch.

“I am serious. Leave it alone.”

“How do you do that?” Berdine snapped.

“I know you.”

“It’s been weeks, and nothing.”

“Not nothing. We felt that surge the day after we left, and the bond to Lord Rahl is as strong as it ever was. It… it reminds me of how strong it was with Darken.”

“And that is worrisome, Raina. It was one thing having that… that man be Lord Rahl. But to know that his power has increased tenfold… I am worried about Cara.”

“Your Mistress is apparently immortal, so I really wouldn’t worry.” Raina emphasized the word Mistress. She was still upset.

“No one is immortal.” Berdine mumbled, before standing and walking around the small camp fire that was cooking their dinner.

“So you say.” Raina grumbled, looking at her from the side, her brown eyes still flashing with residual anger. “Cara had a plan.”

“She did.”

“When Cara has a plan she generally succeeds.”

“Yes, if you forget all the times where she doesn’t.”

“Berdine.” Raina reached out and patted her thigh. “I am sure she and the Mother Confessor are just fine. And no, you are not going to look at the journey book again, and no you are not sending another message, and especially no, we are not turning around and going back. So just, enjoy the evening?”

Berdine looked around at the thick forests, the long shadows and the smell of damp in the air from a light fog that was beginning to settle. They were in a lull in the mountains, a small valley that seemed immune to the power of winter. Which she didn’t mind, she was tired of being so cold her knees ached.

It still didn’t sit well with her. Why would Cara wait all this time before sending a message? She wouldn’t, unless something had gone terribly wrong and she couldn’t respond. If she was locked in the dungeons, or worse.

Berdine inwardly shuddered at the slightest outline of an idea where the outcome was worse. “What if the journey book is broken?”

“Oh Spirits.” Raina rolled her eyes. “Yes, a thing of magic just happens to break.”

“It could happen.” Berdine crossed her arms.

“I swear if I didn’t – what was that?” She stopped, and turned. Berdine’s Agiel was in her hand immediately, as was Raina’s. Both of them were completely still. Her blue eyes narrowed, searching the underbrush to their left. Slowly the movement became a shadow, which became a form.

Sighing Berdine holstered her Agiel, shaking her head. “Another horse.”

“How many is that now?”

“Eleven.”

Raina shook her head. “Who knew the Midlands were full of wild horses.” She leaned back, trusting that Berdine’s body would be there to stop her fall. She was not wrong, and Berdine wrapped her arms around her. “We should be on D’Haran soil by day’s end tomorrow.” Berdine set her chin on the top Raina’s head, and nodded. “I am torn. I want to be home, but…”

“Hm?”

“My desire is to be near Lord Rahl and to protect him. The other half of me, the one that remembers directly serving him?”

“You want to do as Cara suggested and run away.” Berdine confirmed softly.

Raina put her gloved hands on her arms, moving them along the length. “I know thinking like that is neither constructive nor wise. And a year ago would have gotten me killed.”

“Things change.”

“They do.” She turned slowly, looking up, her brown eyes darkening. “What if they are not changing for the better?”

Berdine tapped the end of her nose. “Aren’t you the one who tells me that it does no good to travel down the road of what if’s and second guessing? All that is there is darkness and missteps.”

Raina nodded, and untangled herself from Berdine’s arms, which missed the pressure of her petite body immediately. The brunette moved to kneel beside the fire, checking on the small rabbit that was cooking.

Berdine let her eyes roam the trees around them once more. They were changing, moving from the ever present pines, to more wide leaf and thick trunked trees. She knew once they began moving up the mountainside again tomorrow the pines would return, and then they would be entrenched in thick snow. This may be the last time she was this warm in a long while. Why couldn’t Cara have ordered them to travel to the northern temple in the spring, or even autumn?

The horse in the distant brush moved along, seeming to sense that there was nothing here for it. They had sold their own horses a day ago, as they entered this valley. While horses would speed the journey soon their path would be one full of snow and granite fascia, not the place for a hoofed animal. And Berdine inwardly pouted, it wasn’t the place for a Mord-Sith either. She found herself tugging on her hair again and tossed the braid over her shoulder, forcing herself not to give in to her nervous habit.

Normally she was not one to dwell on matters. There was what was, and there was what is, and that was as far as her concern generally went. Unless it was a matter to do with Raina, or Cara. Her ribs were healed, her face unmarred once again, but the pain in her chest was ever present. That bittersweet sensation that she always felt for Cara. To call her a friend would be false. Because there was a part of Berdine that would always hate Cara for the things she had done. Love though, was there as well, loving her for the things she had not done, instances where she had restrained herself for one reason or another. That was what made their bond so strong. It wasn’t that Cara had control of Berdine’s rage, and her power as a Mord-Sith. It was the kindness she had exhibited in a world where you were punished or killed for showing such a thing.

As she sat back down on the log, and tugged off her brown gloves, her eyes rested on the pouch and the book inside.

“Great Spirits Berdine! Stop looking at the Journey Book!”

“But what if she sends a message?”

“Then you will read it eventually.” Raina shrugged.

“But if it is important.”

“Lord Rahl, give me strength.” She growled under her breath.

“It makes no sense to not look at it, Raina. What if I do as you ask, and only look at night when we make camp, and Cara sent a message mid day? What if we need to return and we traveled all those miles for not?”

“Even if she told us to return, the snows have filled the mountains outside of Aydindril. There is no way we can get back quickly.” She huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at her. “What is really weighing on your mind?”

“Not knowing.” Berdine said softly. Not knowing if her dear friend was alive or dead made her blood run colder and thicker each day.

Raina’s face softened and she came to kneel in front of her, her eyes looking over her face with concern. Understanding Raina squeezed her hand. Berdine nodded to her, to convey that she appreciated Raina’s empathy of the situation. The petite Mord-Sith turned away from her, and back to the fire, lifting the now cooked rabbit from over the flames.

Just once more, she thought to herself, and lifted the cover on the book. Her eyes focused on the blank page, willing it to suddenly fill with Cara’s jagged script.

Gloved fingers grabbed the book, and she watched in horror as Raina threw it across the camp site.

“But I!”

“No more. Not tonight.”

“Arrghh.” Berdine groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. She knew Raina was right, that still didn’t quell the urge she had to continue looking for some sign.

“Don’t worry, I will distract you.” Raina offered, running her hand up Berdine’s strong thigh.

Berdine opened the fingers on her face, letting one eye peer out at her fiery lover. “Oh?” She asked.

Raina’s hands slammed into her shoulders, knocking her off the log and onto her back. Immediately Raina followed, straddling her chest. As she grabbed Berdine’s hands and forced them over her head, Raina’s lips pulled into a devious smile. “Yes.” Raina promised.

* * * * *

Untangling herself from Raina’s sleep constricted embrace, Berdine reached her arm out, tentatively, and pulled the journey book closer to her. She flipped it open, hearing Raina’s discontented groan, and looked over Raina’s naked shoulder, to see the page.

“There had better be something on that page, or by the Spirits Berdine I will hurt you.”

“I… oh.” Berdine whispered, shocked and sitting up, taking a naked and sleepy Raina with her.

“Is there something?”

She blinked, believing the haze of sleep was making her misread the short, hard lined letters. But the words were the same. Short. Concise. And very much written in Cara’s familiar hand. She sighed with relief seeing that script, but still. The words shouldn’t be there. They should not be saying what they did.

“Well?” Raina asked.

Berdine held out the book to her so that she could read the curt entry. It read; you should almost be at the temple. stop dawdling. everyone is still alive. More or less. MC is LR.

“What does that mean? MC is LR.” Raina looked up at her.

Berdine grabbed the book and threw it, anger and uncertainty battling the relief at seeing that Cara was still alive.

“Now what is wrong?”

“M.C… Mother Confessor… is LR…Lord Rahl.”

Raina’s mouth fell open in shock. “She did it?”

“I am afraid she did.”

* * * * *

The ground beneath her feet splintered and groaned; the mud having frozen, the top a crackled crust of ice. Her eyes narrowed, as she looked up from under her brows, glaring at the woman across from her. She tossed the sword to her other hand,

“Do your worst.” Cara dared as she lunged ahead. A direct thrust with her sword was knocked away, and she growled. Her sword collided with Kahlan’s and she spun, swinging the blade around, intent on slicing her through the middle. This too was blocked.

The afternoon sun was on the other side of the Confessor’s Palace, casting the pitch in shadow and cold. The heat of their breath birthed plumbs of stream as it rolled from their open mouths. The shadows afforded her a little advantage as she noticed Kahlan’s eyes having to stare hard to read which move Cara would make next. Not allowing her too much of an advantage, Cara motioned to the right, but slammed her sword to the left, aiming for Kahlan’s neck. The strength she put behind the swing vibrated down her arm and into her shoulder’s joint as with a deep huff of air, Kahlan managed to block that move as well.

With a snarl of pent up rage Kahlan swung her sword, and Cara rushed forward, taking the power of the swinging arm against her own arm, ensuring Kahlan’s blade came nowhere near her. Digging her feet into the hard packed earth she moved them both back four steps, before her palm slammed against Kahlan’s heart, sending her even further.

“Damn it.” Kahlan snapped, returning the sword to her side, her eyes flashing a dangerous black. She spun her wrist and then came at Cara, her lips pulled back, her teeth flashing white.

Cara lifted her sword vertically and stopped the offending blade; the sharp ringing filled the air. Shoving against Kahlan she went for a stab, but was knocked away, just as she hoped. The obvious move would be to swing around, so instead she jumped and cut to the right swiftly, the whistle of her sword as it approached Kahlan’s unguarded side was a prelude in this symphony of battle.

Suddenly the muscles in the back of Cara’s legs ached, at the same instant she felt the overwhelming urge to duck. Not that she knew what Kahlan’s next move would be, no, this was something much deeper and much stronger. In the space between heartbeats she fought against it, rallied her own conscious mind and control. But it wasn’t enough. Cara fought the urge as much as she could, but when it seemed too much she dropped to her knee, a frustrated scream exploding from her chest.

The blade swung just missing her head.

Kahlan spun in a complete circle due to her momentum. Her eyes rounded as the cascade of her hair settled, and she looked down at Cara, surprise coloring her blue eyes.

“You can’t think so hard about what you want me to do, Mother Confessor. I will be compelled.” Cara growled.

* * * * *

Kahlan squatted down beside her. “Cara, I am sorry, I forgot.” Her voice was full of sincerity.

Cara’s open hand moved towards her, to block her touch. A clear indication that she was all right and did not want, nor need assistance. “It is fine.” She snapped.

Kahlan’s eyes flicked up, taking in the soldiers, most Home Guards of Aydindril, with a few D’Harans, who stood around the edges of the training ring. She felt doubly worse that they had seen Cara not in control like that. Cara was a thing of fierce beauty when she fought, and Kahlan wanted these men to understand that, and also for them to fear her. There was respect in fear.

She stood, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“You’re right.” Kahlan set the tip of her sword on the hard packed earth. “Go again?”

“I am always ready. The question is.” Cara sprung back up, playfully swinging her sword against Kahlan’s. “Are you?”

“Do you need to even ask?” Kahlan smirked, her feet settling wide. Her eyes took in the sheen of sweat on Cara’s brow, and the focused determination that returned to her eyes. Kahlan loved when they spared like this, for not only did she find they were well matched in skill, but it also allowed her to release from inside the part of her that needed to fight, needed to attack. It was not a new part of her, but since becoming Mord-Sith it was a much stronger part.

Using swords and daggers, she continually learned how to improve, Cara never relenting, never holding back. She appreciated that; how better to learn than to face death, and continually avoid it. Using steal made the muscles of her body strong, made the focus of her mind sharp.

When they fought with Agiel, that was a different matter entirely. That sharpened her hate, as well as her love. It was also something that they never did in front of anyone else. It was a private battle, between the two of them, just for the two of them.

“Mother Confessor?” A voice called from outside the fenced off area. Her jaws clenched at another interruption in what seemed to be a pattern of interruptions.

“Yes?” She asked, lifting her sword and locking eyes with Cara, who gave her a mischievous grin.

“There is a herald here from Galea.”

Cara’s eye brow rose just as she swung her sword, and Kahlan countered, their blades meeting, and she took a step closer, the guards of their swords slamming together.

“I love you.” Kahlan whispered, turning her wrists and locking their swords together.

“That is cheating!” Cara insisted, trying to push away.

“Yes, it is.” She smiled. Louder she replied, “Please advise this herald, that I will meet with them momentarily. Thank you Lieutenant.”

“At your command, Mother Confessor.”

She twisted her wrists the other way, releasing Cara, who huffed slightly.

“Duty calls.” Kahlan said thick with regret.

“It always seems to, as if the Spirits themselves know how you get after we spar, and decided to make you suffer.” Cara smiled.

“Make me suffer?” Kahlan slipped her sword into the baldric across her back, before she stepped right up to Cara, hearing the comforting sound of Cara’s red leather meeting her own black leather corset. “I think you suffer just as strongly as I do.” She leaned forward and kissed her quickly. “If not more so.”

“I’ll never tell.” Cara said her face expressionless. But her aqua eyes twinkled.

“Come with me while I change?” Kahlan asked, knowing that despite herself her lip curled ever so in the corner.

“Oh no you don’t.” Cara slammed her sword into the scabbard on her hip, before she put her hands on Kahlan’s stomach. “You will go straight to meet him just as you are.”

“But.” Kahlan pouted.

“No but. We talked about this.”

She was allowing Cara to walk her backwards, loving when her face became serious as it was now.

“You will wear your black dress if you want, you will wear your leather traveling clothes if you want. You are Queen of D’Hara, as well as the Mother Confessor, and by rights you can do as you please.” Cara spun her around by her shoulders, before landing a playful, yet stinging swat on her backside.

“We both know that is not true.” Kahlan said over her shoulder, as she opened the gate, and nodded to the two Guards who stepped out of her way.

They both knew, there was want and then there was duty.

It was finding the balance that was key.

* * * * *

She held the thin parchment between two fingers as she stood, looking out the small window in the Confessor’s chambers off of the Council Room. The snow was starting up again, but the flakes were fat and heavy, signaling a change in the weather.

Winter had been long, and was drawing to a close. Her eyes glanced at the letter again. She was surprised that the herald had managed to get through the low country in such quick time. The letter was written to her a mere twelve days previous.

Kahlan wasn’t exactly sure how she wanted to react to the news. Perhaps the cocoon she had wrapped around herself and Cara over the winter had been too thick. It had kept her from seeing things that perhaps she should have. While the Central Council of the Midlands always adjourned for the winter months, still she knew she had representatives who would travel to and from the adjacent kingdoms, bringing news to the Mother Confessor; as well as returning to their monarch with news and gossip from Aydindril. Kahlan had ignored most of it, glancing at reports, not wanting to lose the magic that breathed new life into her each and every time she and Cara were together.

The real world was always an arm’s length away, waiting for her, and she felt the weight in her chest. It had its grip on her now.

Turning she walked back to the large table, and set the parchment down.

The Seeker passed through Galea, stopping in Ebinissia for a time. We were pleased to have him here, he and the Wizard Zorander, They told us of tales from Tamarang, of Queen Milena, Princess Violet and their newly appointed wizard. The Seeker sends to you his well wishes upon hearing of your marriage to his brother, and was interested in the news that it seems as though Lord Rahl is as impotent in decision making for his people as well as other areas. The Seeker is confident that you will help your husband, Lord Rahl, as he navigates the tricky waters that lay ahead. I look forward to seeing you at the next session of the Central Council.

She assumed that Zedd had somehow determined what it was Kahlan and Cara had done. She hoped that was the case and not merely Richard still being upset with her. What was disconcerting was the use of the word impotent. As if it was a not so veiled warning. People were becoming concerned that Kahlan had not yet announced that she was with child. Four months since her marriage and they were all expecting it. Every royal house in every corner of the Midlands was waiting with delayed breath for that news.

“Well they will just have to keep waiting.” Kahlan said in a low and angry voice, she shoved the parchment away, before she felt a low calm settle on her heart; Cara was close by.

“For what?” Her silken voice asked.

Kahlan looked up, seeing her standing in the doorway. Her sword was gone, as were the thick leather she had taken to wearing around her throat and the corset. She looked dangerous, but fresher, more like the Cara who had traveled the Midlands with her before everything had changed.

Though Kahlan knew now that Cara preferred to wear her complete regalia, the reason was to impose her desire that others fear her. But she had confessed once, that when she wanted to feel a little less like a monster she would forgo the rigidity of her attire.

“Nothing important.” Kahlan said gently, her eyes still busy caressing the curves of Cara’s body sculpted in leather.

Her boot heel connected with the door as she began her approach, slamming it with a resonating thud. They way Cara moved across the stone floors of the room was utterly feline and with express purpose. Kahlan felt a light blush blossom across her breasts as her chest heaved ever so slightly with the anticipation. Intent rolled off of Cara, filling all of Kahlan’s senses.

She watched as Cara ran her naked palm over the wood of the desk, before she snatched up the thin parchment. “ ‘Greetings to my benevolent sovereign, Queen Kahlan Amnell of D’Hara, Mother Confessor of the Midlands.’ ” Cara looked at her over the top of the sheet, her eyes twinkling. “Already your numerous titles stretch from one side of this sheet to the other, and still she forgot a few.”

Kahlan’s eyes questioned her.

“Lord Rahl, patron of all D’Hara, as well as Mord-Sith, and my favorite, Mistress Cara’s mate.” The word was punctuated as she slapped the page back down with one hand, while the other went to grab the bottom edge of Kahlan’s black and green trimmed leather surcoat. She pulled Kahlan roughly to her, their lips meeting with that pervasive intensity of passion. Kahlan felt her body lean into Cara as she captured her lips, as she tasted the familiar sweetness that was lingering desire. This was how she wanted to end their sparing session.

She released the tension in her body, and felt her skin tingle as Cara’s tongue took ownership of her mouth roughly. Just as their kiss began to reach a crescendo, Cara leaned back slightly.

“They want you with child.” Cara’s voice was tighter than a pulled bow string. “The one thing I cannot seem to do.”

“Cara.” Kahlan sighed, a thousand and one words already spoken, and resting on her tongue to be uttered again.

“I shall do the one thing we both know I can, then.” Cara’s lips bowed with disdain, and her fingers dug deep into Kahlan’s hip and she spun her around, before roughly putting a hand on her back. Cara pressed her down against the table, lifting her dress in one hand, the other moving to hold her neck in place.

“Cara.” Kahlan growled in warning.

Her cheek was pressed to the desk so solidly that she could feel the grain of it mapping itself on her cheek. Cara did not heed the warning; she seemed to always know what was truly lying behind Kahlan’s tone; this time saying her name was less about warning and more about her own internal conflict. Kahlan was brimming with conflict now, parts of her battling one another, neither winning; the Mord-Sith’s need for control and dominance, the Confessor’s need for tenderness and devotion. Neither would win out this day, she knew, and as she felt Cara’s hand moving up her naked thigh, and as Cara kicked her feet apart she didn’t want either to win, she wanted them both to submit to Cara, to the woman she loved.

“Why Confessor!” Cara exclaimed in false modesty as her hand moved over Kahlan’s bare behind. “Where ever are your undergarments?” Kahlan had, in all honesty, planned for their training match to end much differently than it had. She had planned for it to end like this, with Cara’s hands on her hungry flesh.

“Where are yours?” Kahlan snapped back, knowing her lover was just as bare beneath her leather, before she moaned as Cara’s hand cupped her sex. Her hips bucked back into her warm palm, knowing and needing her touch. She had needed it before as they fought, her arousal heightening with each parry, every time their blades allied violently.

“Touché.” Cara murmured, two fingers sliding along the length of her, and she would have bucked her hips again if she had been able. The weight of Cara’s body confining her made that deliciously impossible.

Her back arched up as much as she could as she feel strong fingers move with determination into her, she groaned outwardly, while clenching her muscles around them, pulling them deeper. Cara obliged, pressing deeper, as deep as she could, and Kahlan’s vision went dark with the exquisite sensation of being filled. She did not breathe until Cara’s fingers pulled back, almost leaving their tight and wet confines, before thrusting in again, just as deep. The fingers on Kahlan’s neck flexed slightly as if they wanted to touch her somewhere else, some way else, but Cara kept them there, just as she kept a slow, probing rhythm of driving deeply into her, before reaching back.

Each of Cara’s deep thrusts seemed to be conveying a message, one that spoke to Kahlan physically and emotionally; they spoke of Cara’s pent up lust and frustration. Urges that Kahlan now knew very well, feeling them too.

A low groan of impatience reverberated off of the stone walls, both of them needing more, needing the increase in pressure and in movement. She felt it deeply as Cara altered the angle of her penetrating fingers, and Kahlan tightened around those fingers with even more intensity as the speed of the thrusts increased, building a foundation of boiling wet desire. With each thrust the speed increased, the fingers on her neck tightened. Rolling waves of heat moved across her skin, beginning on the back of her thighs where now Cara’s own body was slapping against her. Their moans merged, filling the room with the depth of their need, punctuated by the harmony of leather on skin, and highlighted by the pitch of Cara’s fingers frantically moving in and out of her wet center.

Fast and hard the momentum continued, and Kahlan felt the muscles inside her body tremble at the edge. Anticipation stole her breathe. She wanted to plead to Cara to slow, to make it last, just as she wanted to hear the command in the blonde’s voice, but speaking was not possible. All Kahlan could do was press her palms on the table, begging for purchase as her body and the table moved with each inward motion.

Knowing, and feeling that the pleasure was coming over Kahlan all too soon, Cara released a low growl at the same moment Kahlan’s walls tumbled down around her, as the room was filled with her high pitched release.

The grip around her neck loosened, fingers moved down her heaving back, before righting her skirt, and the warm pressure of Cara’s thighs left her own. Using her palms Kahlan rose from the table, before turning. Cara’s expression was set in a satisfied smirk, but her eyes were still dark. Haunted.

Kahlan grasped her hands, and brought them one at a time to her lips, setting kisses on her knuckles.

“I love you.” She vowed, head moving to the side as she regarded Cara.

Cara’s lip twitched slightly, and Kahlan tugged on her hands, pulling her into her arms. She found Cara’s lips waiting hungrily for hers, and satiated them, devoured them, still needing more, wanting more. Her fingertips danced over Cara’s warm cheek, before combing through her hair.

“You are what I want, and what I need.” Kahlan affirmed. Subtly Cara nodded. Kahlan knew from the look on her face that she believed the words on the one hand, but on the other the uncertainty ran wild. Even after their handfasting in the meadow of the Night Wisp, even after all that they had been through so far, the specter of everyone’s expectations were allowing doubt to blossom inside of Cara. Doubt that Kahlan needed to abolish. “Cara. I am serious.”

“I know you are Confessor.” Her eyes drooped. “I merely want what’s best.”

“Don’t be altruistic to a fault. What’s best is for us to be in this together. What is best is for you to come with me to our bed chamber. What is best is that you lay with me, and feel me, as I feel you.”

“That would be best.”

“But?”

“Your husband awaits you in the dining hall.”

Kahlan snorted angrily, “Let him wait.” Stubbornly her hand moved to the back of Cara’s head, urging her forward so that she could kiss her lips again. For all the rage and aggression Cara displayed in their lovemaking there was a larger part of her that at times, like now, craved a certain intimacy. Kahlan could feel it in the languid way she kissed her back, in the way her hands, which a moment ago possessed her, now settled on her sides, relaxed.

Probing deeper with her tongue, Kahlan moved the hand not entwined with Cara’s hair down her shoulder, over her breast, feeling the muscles of her stomach, before her fingers gripped the buckle of Cara’s belt, and she tugged playfully.

Her lips moved to Cara’s chin, and she lamented, “What I wouldn’t give for you to be wearing a dress right now.” Then her lips trailed down Cara’s neck, her tongue tracing the lines of her muscles.

“Oh?”

“Mm hm. I want to taste you.” Kahlan revealed, licking at this skin at the base of her throat, swallowing the salty comfort of her flesh. Cara shivered slightly under her attentions.

“Perhaps dinner can wait.” Cara’s hands pressed urgently on her back. Lifting her eyes, looking deep in to those blue green orbs that haunted her, Kahlan felt the wonder of love.

She nodded, just before their lips met again.

* * * * *

With her finger tip she pulled the letter close to her again, her eyes moving over the words. Words that stung with their innuendo. A child. But there seemed more there than just that. A warning perhaps? Something that they did not notice, being caught up in their own personal conflict? Over the month Cara had been learning more and more about the Midlands, about politics and how things worked not only in the Palace and Aydindril but all around the kingdom. And she found for all Kahlan’s forthrightness, for all her firm understanding of right and wrong, those surrounding her spoke in riddles and played games with favors and attention.

It was the same as it had been in D’Hara, yet here no one was lashed within an inch of their lives for speaking out against the Mother Confessor. Cara believed there were some nobility who could be vastly improved if they did spend time on the bitter end of her whip. She explained this to Kahlan, and often. Always a soft smiled and a negative shake of the head her reply.

Not that Cara would have expected anything different. Not from Kahlan.

What did seem odd was the specific words Queen Cyrilla used, not only in reference to not yet hearing of the pending birth, but more. In how it seemed as though, she took long pauses between each and every word. The press of the quill was evident at the end of each letter written.

“Kahlan?” She asked.

She felt the Confessor move to stand beside her, their bodies touching, and the heat of Kahlan’s skin starving off the cold. “Hm?”

“Here, she writes of Queen Milena and a wizard.” Cara turned to her slightly. “Does that seem unusual to you?”

Kahlan’s lips pulled tight as she considered her question. “It does. I hadn’t noticed it before. When D’Hara invaded the Midlands there were but a few remaining wizards, I know all of them. Or I should. Those here in Aydindril died so that I could have the power to cross the boundary into Westland.” Kahlan set her hand beside Cara’s on the letter. “I wonder, with there being more movement between the Old World and the New if more wizards are arriving.”

“I admit there are many things I don’t understand about policy here, but is this common?”

“Yes and no. All provinces had wizards, the gifted, to assist in ruling in the past. But. You are right, mentioning this, as well as it being Queen Milena, who is no friend of mine could be significant.”

“Or it could be nothing but idol gossip and not worth our consideration.” Cara admitted.

Kahlan’s finger tapped on the table as she thought. Where before she would think in silence and her body immobile, lately she was moving, her body would display an outward expression of some kind. Generally it was easy to read and understand. Tapping fingers, impatience, arms crossed was restraint. Pacing was unease. And then there were more, private movements, these too Cara noticed and understood. That there seemed to be so much inside of Kahlan now, that little parts needed to be released, to avoid an explosion.

She looked at the Confessor, not for the first time wondering if there was more going on inside of her that she was not revealing. The quiet of her voice weighed heavily on Cara.

“Perhaps it is something we need to look into. Do you think I should ask Lord Rahl if he can spare two quads to travel south to Tamarang?” Her eyes beseeched Cara, clearly asking her opinion.

“I think that it would be better to know than to not. And I am sure that the Lord Rahl would be more than willing to grant his charming wife’s request.”

Kahlan raised her brow. “Charming?”

“Yes. You can be. You charmed me right out of my leathers not but an hour ago.” Cara said, turning and smiling.

“Talk like that and I will be forced to ask Lord Rahl over tomorrow’s morning meal.”

Cara kissed her lips softly. “Go and sit with the puppet.”

“You aren’t coming?” Kahlan asked surprised.

“No. It was pointed out to me to be in bad taste, for the lover to sit closer than the husband.”

“Who said that? I will banish them.”

“Wyborn reminded me, and no you will not banish him. You will go and eat and raise your glass to your guests, and you will give Drefan a reminder to whom he belongs. Just not to ardently this time.” Gently she brushed their lips together again, because in all honesty she did not want to let Kahlan go. Cara understood, and she knew that this, such as everything else was required, and as it made Kahlan who she was, she loved it too. Loved her perseverance and her dedication. Her pride and her duty. “Come and find me, when it is all over.”

“I will.” Kahlan’s lips smiled.

* * * * *

She stood, her hand resting on the wooden door frame, as she watched Cara walk away, down the long hall, which was sheltered in darkness, the sconces not yet lit. The shadow seemed to caress Cara’s shoulders, moving down her straight and proud back, before moving across the red leather and absorbing her into its embrace completely.

Kahlan did not like the feeling she was left with, watching the darkness as it took Cara from her. She wanted to follow her, to go with her.

Something inside of her screamed that she should.

Yet her feet remained where they were. Her nails scratched the wood under her hand, an outward expression of the torrent of feelings locked inside.

Part 2

The smile that graced her lips didn’t reach her blue eyes, though no one else in the half full dining hall seemed to notice. They were far too caught up in the honor of breaking bread with the Mother Confessor, and Lord Rahl. Cara thought it funny, that these sycophants could not seem to tell that the Lord Rahl was nothing more than a marionette; it was almost as if his arms were moving with the jerky motions of the strings pulling him. He was on better behavior this evening than he had been months ago, as if his pride was long since vanquished, replaced by the calm contentment of servitude. Cara knew how to break a man, knew the delicate nuances it took; yet this man had been different. Or perhaps it had been the one doing the breaking. Kahlan had listened attentively to the lessons bestowed on her by all the Mord-Sith and had put that knowledge to practice with Drefan in the very beginning. And still, because he was not just in the control of a Mord-Sith, but also had been eradicated by the Mother Confessor it made him a conundrum. He hated Kahlan and loved Kahlan in equal measure. Though he no longer fought her, no longer threw his dinner dish at her, or sat in his chair crying. Now his face was as void of emotion as the Mother Confessor’s eyes.

“Mistress.” Hally said softly as she came to stand beside her.

Cara allowed her eyes to touch upon the small blonde in greeting, before returning her gaze to the scene at the far end of the room. The Mother Confessor leaned slightly to her side, to speak to Drefan, whose eyes narrowed and his lips went tight. The smile on Kahlan’s face did not once waver. Cara was curious as to what she told her, but based on the sudden paleness of his skin, she had a good idea.

“How are things here in the Palace?” Hally asked.

“The same as they ever were I suppose.” Cara replied. “And how is the Keep?” She asked, as Hally had been spending most of her time up at the black rock Palace, coordinating Home Guards men to walk the narrow mountain paths, and to ensure no one or thing decided to look around where they shouldn’t. Luckily the citizens of Aydindril knew better, and the D’Haran soldiers camped outside of the city walls feared magic enough to not dare to travel near the impressive shadow palace that was the Wizard’s Keep.

“Quiet. There has been no sign of the wizard, or any other wizard really.”

“Apparently he has met up with the Seeker. The Mother Confessor received a letter today. He has been in Galea, as well as Tamarang.” Cara turned to Hally, crossing her arms. “Has Captain Ryan had any problems in the city?”

“How would I know?”

“Don’t pretend with me, Hally. I know full well he has been staying in your rooms at least twice a week.”

The blonde blushed slightly, but only slightly. “You never said he couldn’t. Just that I had to keep my leathers on.”

Cara’s face fell open in astonishment. “You! I didn’t mean.”

Hally smirked. “Have no fear, Mistress, I am kidding. A man like Captain Bradley Ryan couldn’t be sated this long without certain liberties.”

Cara closed her mouth and narrowed her eyes. “Do you care for him?”

“I do.”

“Will he marry you?”

“Doubtful. He is of the Midlands, I of D’Hara.”

“Look around you, Hally.” Cara gestured. “I doubt something like that matters.”

“D’Harans killed his entire family. It does matter.” Hally offered as further explanation.

“My offer still stands.” Cara said with seriousness.

“While I appreciate it Mistress, I know not how to be a simple wife of a soldier. I am better suited to be Mord-Sith. This is something I am comfortable with.” Hally looked at her with an inquisitive eye. “Perhaps you are the one who wants to leave the sisterhood?”

Cara laughed gently. “No.”

“Never?”

“Hally, there is only one Mord-Sith who can walk a path where setting aside her Agiel is a possibility.” Her eyes moved back across the large room, to see Kahlan as she raised her glass in a toast to one of the dignitaries before her. “And even that, I am not sure she will do.”

“In time perhaps.” Hally shrugged. “In the meantime it is comforting, having her as.”

Hally did not finish her statement. None of them spoke aloud of Kahlan being Mord-Sith and certainly never of her being Lord Rahl, in case there were prying ears about. In this same vein Kahlan did not travel anywhere where there were D’Harans without Drefan at her side. It alleviated the concern that they would feel the bond to her while not seeing Drefan. While Cara knew that through the bond the children of D’Hara would support Kahlan, that did not remove the concern that she was a woman, and Lord Rahl was always a man. There would be some who would forsake her merely based on that fact. She well knew, from personal experience, that in forsaking Lord Rahl much could happen.

“A fair and noble Mother Confessor she is.” Cara offered, as she crossed her arms. “So, no wizards to be found in all of Aydindril?”

“A few that are strong with the gift, but no true wizards that we can detect.”

“Then they are hiding in plain sight. My skin still tingles due to their magic when I walk the city streets.” Cara pursed her lips. “It makes no sense, if the Midlands are so full of magic, where are all those who wield it?”

“Perhaps they hibernate? The winter here as been unbearable.”

Cara nodded, and watched as Kahlan began the long process of making her leave. She would soon step down from the raised dais where her table was, and then move through the small gathering of envoys and dignitaries, bestowing blessings and greetings. Cara watched as she stood, rising to her full height, her chin proud. The large candelabras in the ceiling were full of thick candles, and the light reflected on the Mother Confessor’s hair, as well as on the elaborate silver buckles on her belt, and the intricate silver detail on her black leather corset that was just visible underneath her surcoat. People seemed to still reverie her even when she was not dressed in white. It was as if, in her attempt to appear less formal to her subjects she had the opposite effect on them. Even Drefan, sitting in his black and grey tunic at her side seemed to shrink in size when Kahlan stood. Her presence had the strength to fill the room.

As it should be, Cara thought with a soft smile.

“Will you be taking over for Rikka this evening?” Cara asked. She only trusted Rikka and Hally to be alone with Drefan, knowing that neither of them could be swayed easily, if he had managed to miraculously regain the bond of Lord Rahl. Hally as she was still connected through the underlying bond to Cara from when Cara had broken her when they lived at the People’s Palace, what felt like lifetimes ago. And Rikka was just too stubborn to roll over to anyone’s will. Even the Lord Rahl.

“Yes. Any special requests this evening?” She asked, her eyes twinkling.

Cara shook her head. “No. He seemed well behaved tonight. I think he has earned a reprieve.”

“A hundred lashes only then.”

Cara smiled. “That sounds about right.”

* * * * *

She stayed ten paces behind as they walked through the halls, her eyes hunting for a glimpse of Kahlan’s swaying hips as she moved, the sliver of a glance that would occasionally flash between the bodies of the guards walking behind her and Drefan. They were making a show of walking through the public areas of the Confessor’s Palace. In this public hall all of the fires were burning; candles, sconces, and torches, the light magnified by the polish of the marble walls and floors, turning the white of the stone to a honeyed orange. The light was other worldly, and with the flames burning against the walls and hanging from the ceiling, Kahlan did not seem to cast any shadow at all.

Two small scullery maids darted across the hall in front of Cara, rushing somewhere. There seemed to be more and more activity in the Confessor’s Palace, with the passing days. Now that the Mother Confessor was returned, the servant staff had tripled, and Sergeant Wyborn was finding and turning out more and more men to serve as Home Guards each week. The routine of all these people was something Cara was easily adapting to. And they all gave her a wide birth, as well as respect. While these people only partially understood what she was, dipped as she was in blood red, moving through the pristine hallways with determination, they seemed to sense that she was far more than the concubine to their beloved Mother Confessor.

The respect in their eyes was something new to her. Fear and hatred Cara understood implicitly. Respect was new, but she was learning.

Hally merged with the group, and set her hand on the small of Drefan’s back. Cara smirked watching the muscles of the massive man outwardly shiver when he was touched by the petite Mord-Sith. He was improving vastly, understanding that his role as a figurehead was all that was keeping him alive. While part of him would beg and plead for Kahlan to be the one who punished him, Cara had been consciously keeping that from happening, stretching out those moments further and further. Once Drefan was utterly broken, Cara was making sure that Rikka, Hally, or herself were the ones to dole out his punishments. Kahlan not only had enough to worry about, but there was also the underlying fact that Cara did not want to see her mate walk down the dark path of hate further than she already had. While Cara was not ashamed of who she was, she reveled in being Mord-Sith, she was also acutely aware than in assisting the Mother Confessor to become Mord-Sith she had opened a door to an unknown realm, and she was not yet sure how much damage she may have caused, what the lasting effects may be. She had seen the outward exhibits of Kahlan’s impatience and her rage, as well as watched her thrash in her sleep, plagued by nightmares. While there was a possibility of much more, Cara was cautiously optimistic that the worst had shown itself.

And if it hadn’t Cara was fairly certain that she knew how to force it to. When she did force the darkness to rise to the surface, it would be her and Kahlan together. Not Kahlan and that man.

Hally guided Drefan away, the two of the Home Guards branched off and followed them. The two D’Haran soldiers turned and walked the other way, leaving Kahlan and her guards who continued on, to the back staircase, which while not as grand as the main one in the receiving hall was nonetheless impressive and imposing. As Kahlan began to take the steps, her guards stayed below. There were special, handpicked guards awaiting her on the third floor. They were proven to be fiercely loyal and were assigned to protect the Mother Confessor when she was at her most vulnerable, when she was in her private chambers. Cara and Captain Ryan had picked those ten men specifically and with special care.

Her steps quickened and Cara was soon mounting the stairs, her eyes no longer restricted from staring ahead and seeing the elegant movements of her lover’s hips and backside as she took each step, slowly, as if knowing Cara was behind her, watching with appreciation.

“I hate it when I can feel you near, but cannot see you.” Kahlan said softly to Cara, as her foot landed beside the Mother Confessor’s, and they began taking the steps together.

“You will survive.” She responded, her tone teasing.

“Oh, I suppose so.” Kahlan turned to look at her with a warm smile that did reach her eyes this time, “If I must.”

“I insist upon it.” Cara grinned wider.

Kahlan set her hand on her arm, her fingers caressing the leather wrapped skin. “Lord Rahl was gracious enough to hear my request.” Kahlan offered as she slipped her arm through Cara’s as they reached the top of the stairs, and turned to walk the deserted hall. Falling into step with them were two of the Home Guards, their faces unresponsive. “He has agreed to sending two quads south. We will speak with General Reibisch tomorrow.”

“I wonder.” Cara mused.

“Hm?”

“Should we also have Mord-Sith accompany them? If this wizard or the Queen are a threat, it would be good to have someone on hand who can handle magic.”

Kahlan nodded in agreement, her fingers tightening on Cara’s forearm. “It shall be done. Speaking of Mord-Sith, have you heard from Berdine or Raina?”

“No.”

“Have you written to them recently?”

“Um, no.” Cara offered sheepishly.

Kahlan’s eyes narrowed in reproach. “Well you will tonight, I am sure?”

“Yes, of course Mother Confessor.” She replied, rolling her eyes. “I will do that right away.”

“No. You won’t.” Kahlan smirked.

“I won’t?” Cara asked.

“No. I recall a promise you made to me this evening, and I intend for you to keep it.” Kahlan looked at her through thick eyelashes, making her intent very clear.

Cara smiled softly.

* * * * *

She curled deeper against her back, her hands pressing Cara closer. The feeling of warm naked flesh on hers sparked desire deep inside, which twined with the feeling of contentment at having Cara so close. Kahlan pressed her face deep into her warm blond hair, and she breathed in deeply.

“Do I meet with your approval?” Cara’s voice asked softly.

“Mm. Always.” Kahlan answered, not releasing her tight hold on her mate.

“You’re fevered. Nightmares again?” Cara asked.

“Yes.” Kahlan disclosed with a sigh, knowing there was never any point to attempting to keep the truth from Cara.

“The same one?”

“More or less.” The dream that haunted her was much the same each and every time it found her in slumber. Standing amid the arid field, blood choked roses dead at her feet, all save one.

Cara turned in her arms, setting her hand over her hip, to rest on the small of her back. “Kahlan.” Cara whispered, offering her presence as well as her empathy.

Gently Kahlan set her forehead on Cara’s, her eyes blinking, looking through the shadows of the bed chamber into her dark eyes. “It’s just a dream, I know that.”

“You say that each and every time.” Cara’s hand offered comfort. “I know it is more.”

Even in the darkness of the predawn she could see the concern and the anger in Cara’s eyes. Always thinking there was more she could have done or should have done. No matter how often they discussed it, Cara still felt responsible.

Responsible that Kahlan was not yet with child. Responsible that Kahlan was changing inside, that she was plagued with nightmares. And the newest symptom, which Kahlan was doing her best to keep from her mate, were the headaches that were beginning to plague her.

* * * * *

He leaned back in his field chair, as his fingers rubbed his copper beard. His gray eyes were looking over Kahlan’s shoulder, unfocused on the tent wall. She had discovered over the months that this was how General Reibisch was. Methodical. Considerate.

“Two quads should not be a problem. Things are quiet.” All the legs on his chair hit the ground with a groan under his weight. “Too quiet, my Queen.” His eyes narrowed on her.

“Believe me, General, we have discussed this matter as well.”

“We?” He chuckled. The pretense of Lord Rahl was wasted on this man. He was too adept at noticing every little thing that took place around them. His eyes flicked to Drefan, who stood in the far corner, exactly where Kahlan had ordered him to. His eyes would occasionally rise, to glare at her, and she would feel the vile words he called her, see in her mind the heinous crimes he wanted to bestow upon her body. She had developed a shield, knowing and seeing his thoughts and ignoring them, and when he stopped his mental tirade she would then, and only then send him a wave of pain that was usually enough to cause him to drop to his knees. Which of course brought about an even deeper level of pain to his bones. She preferred for him to suffer, but not to know when. Though, Kahlan realized when he would think about Cara, of murdering her or cutting her into little pieces, or worse, inadvertently she would unleash through their bond searing pain immediately.

“I of course meant Mistress Cara, and Sergeant at Arms Wyborn.” Kahlan smiled, but it was not a warm one. Cara chuckled from behind General Reibisch’s desk where she was looking over maps.

“I look forward to spending more time with your Sergeant. Though, I understand his refusal of my offers for breaking bread and discussing the strategies of war.” His eyes were honest and haunted. Just as haunted as Wyborn. That they had battled each other once already, and now were forced to be on the same side weighed on both men. That was not the cause of the haunted expressions though, that was the look one only developed after a life time of service, a life time of being soldiers. Death and killing were part of who they were. And they both understood that alliances and directions could turn as swiftly as the wind.

“I am sure he feels the same.”

“Hrrmph.” He stood and turned the large map on the table before him around, so she could see it, then he pointed to the Drun River, just west of Agaden Reach. “I have sent four scouts now, over the course of the winter, here, and none have returned. I would expect to lose two, in those mountains and with the weather. But not all four. Any idea as to what may have befallen them?”

“There is a place, where a witch woman dwells. The area is heavily spelled though, to inflict a trespasser with intense feelings of unease. Would your men heed this?”

“Most assuredly. D’Hara’s children are not fans of magic. We understand magic’s place in the world but we attempt to avoid it. They would have heeded those warnings, I assure you.”

“Why sent scouts there?” Kahlan ran her finger south, along the length of the river before tapping the port city of Anderith. “You could have sent them south through the Wilds, and bypassed the mountains.”

“And we have, my Queen. Those scouts returned as expected. With little to no unexpected news.”

“The expected news?” She asked.

“Continued hate for D’Harans, praise for the Mother Confessor and the Seeker of Truth. Though.” He paused and turned to lift a small leather cylinder; he opened it and removed a thick roll of letters. Licking his finger he flipped through them quickly. “Ah! Yes. This report.” He looked up at her, “Do you read D’Haran?” he asked.

“Well enough.” She took the offered letter.

Citizens uneasy, disapproving of the current state of marriage between D’Hara and Midlands. Boat full of Old Worlders in port seemed very interested in the state of affairs. Army here is formidable, yet none seem to be aged beyond a of a quarter century. Paid informants will supply updates weekly for two silvers per message.

She looked up at him. “This is the same sort of report I get. Aside from the ship from the Old World. But as I stated before, I have reason to believe there may be an influx. Which. Makes no sense. There has been no love lost between the Old world and the New. In fact it has been years since this many people from the Old World have even bothered to travel north.” She set the letter back down, her mind spinning, thinking. She was picturing maps she had memorized since childhood, migration notations she studied diligently.

In her mind she saw a flash of Cara being strangled.

She looked over her shoulder at Drefan and growled, “As you wish.” Before dropping him to his knees with such pain that as he lay on the ground of the General’s tent he fell into convulsions. Hally set her foot on his shoulder, to keep him more or less in one place.

Her angry eyes swung back to General Reibisch, whose fluffy red eyebrows had shot straight up.

“Pardon the interruption.” Kahlan said in a low and dangerous voice.

“I see no interruption my Queen.”

“Do many from the Old World enter into D’Hara?”

“Perhaps one a year.”

“One?”

“Aye.” He scratched his beard. “Our army had one small garrison in the south, which would patrol, and I believe there was a squad of Mord-Sith who resided in the southern most temple there.”

Cara nodded that he was correct.

“But there was never cause for concern. With the boundary.” He explained.

“Boundary? You mean the one separating the Midlands, Westland and D’Hara?”

“There was that one my Queen, but there has also been one in the south, blocking D’Hara from the Old World for well on three thousand years.”

She looked at him incredulously. “Three.”

“Thousand years. Yes.”

“He speaks the truth, Mistress.” Hally offered. “It is the stuff of legends and bedtime stories, How Lord Rahl in the time of the Great War was able to not only protect his beloved citizens of D’Hara by establishing the bond, but that he and other wizards raised a great and impenetrable barrier between Old and New Worlds.” Drefan moaned loudly and Hally kicked him, hard, silencing him. “Was that not the case for the Midlands?”

“No. But the territorial lines of the Midlands are all based on water, or were until the First Wizard erected the boundary in the mountains between D’Hara and Westland. To the south is the ocean.”

“What are you thinking?” Cara asked softly. She looked up from the map, searching Cara’s face. That was the question, wasn’t it? What was she thinking? Something just seemed off. And not for the first time she lamented sending Zedd away. As someone who had been here at the time of the raising of the boundary, and who had extensive knowledge, more so than she did, of how things such as that worked she was left at a loss not having him here. People were now free to travel between the three lands, so why should that not be the case with those in the Old World as well.

“You said that this boundary has been up for three thousand years? But Richard, he was taken to the Old World last year.”

“There are always small cracks to slip through, if the wall is large enough.” Cara reminded.

“True.”

“What concerns you, my Queen?” General Reibisch asked.

“I don’t know.” She looked back to the map. “But when I do? You will be one of the first to know. In the mean time, send those men to Tamarang. The Mord-Sith Solvig and Hania shall accompany them.” Kahlan named the two Cara had already suggested to her.

“Yes my Queen, they will leave tomorrow at first light.” His fist slammed into his chest.

“General Reibisch, is there anything more I can do for you or your men?” She asked, knowing the winter had been hard, especially for those being forced to live in tents out of doors.

“We live only to serve in your wisdom and grace, my Queen.” He devoted, yet not so blatantly, even with just the five of them in the tent, he too understood that her secret was one that needed to remain closely guarded.

“I am sure you are looking forward to returning to D’Hara and the People’s Palace in the spring.” She watched his face closely, and it did not change. A man whose life was war, who sacrificed his men in the name of a sovereign who he may or may not like; was also a man driven by the love of a kingdom he did not look pleased to return to. It was the same expression she saw when she spoke to the Mord-Sith of returning to the People’s Palace. The long shadow of Darken Rahl extended even through time it seemed, making these proud people not wish to return home.

“I go with honor where ever it is my Lord and Queen wishes for me to go.”

Kahlan, understanding, nodded. “The royal houses of the Midlands will begin returning between now and the next fortnight. They will bring their small guards, some little contingencies of their armies.”

“We will cause no problems with them, I assure you.”

“Thank you General. Come to the Palace day after next. You and Sergeant Wyborn will bury this hatchet. Either in one another or a table, I don’t care which.”

“As you command, my Queen.” He said with a grin.

“Hally, let us escort Lord Rahl back to his horse.”

Kahlan looked at Drefan, and he shuddered, feeling the command to rise, and did so with shaky legs. He ran his meaty hand over his tear streaked face.

“As always General, your discretion is appreciated.” Cara offered as she moved from behind his desk, where she had for the most part remained silent.

“Mistress Cara,” He bowed his head.

* * * * *

“Well?” Kahlan asked her.

“He is telling you the truth, yet you could see that.” Cara smiled at her.

“Yes, I can. But you understand him, more than I ever could.”

“He will be utterly loyal to you, to Lord Rahl and the cause of D’Hara.” Cara confirmed.

“I thought so.” Kahlan’s face turned pensive, as they approached the soldiers holding their horses. Two of them assisted Drefan as he climbed onto the back of his chestnut mare, while Kahlan patted Nick’s neck, and the horse issued a pleased exhale. “We are still where we were then.”

“Yes and no. Things still move forward without us actually seeing them.” Cara lamented, holding out her hand, which Kahlan took as she tucked the toe of her boot into the stirrup, and lifted herself on to Nick’s massive back.

As she settled, she looked down, seeing as well as feeling Cara’s eyes on her. For just a quick moment the noise of the camp was gone, and she only heard her own heart beating, and they shared a smile. That very special and reserved smile.

Too soon reality swarmed back around her, and tightening her hold on the leather of Nick’s reins she urged him to turn, to began the slow journey through the crowds of soldiers, and all the people that made up an army’s camp.

Some of the evening cooking fires smoke billowed as they passed and danced around them, obscuring her view, turning the scene before her into a living mass of odd shapes and undefined lines. Horses called out in the distance, and she could faintly hear the shrill laughter of a woman. A camp like this, be it for an army, or full of refugees seemed to breathe and live on its own.

The smoke cleared, and Kahlan turned to her right, to see Cara riding her black horse, eyes scanning those people milling around them. As her eyes moved in Kahlan’s direction they softened ever so slightly, before returning to their diligent search for anything out of the ordinary.

A movement in the crowd caught her eye, and Kahlan felt her skin bristle. Moving through the crowd was a man a head taller than all the rest, which was a feet when in the D’Haran camp. With anger he pushed people out of his way. As he came closer Kahlan could appreciate just how horrible the man was, with his head cleanly shaven, a dirty blonde beard coming in on his cheeks. One eye was sewn shut; a jagged white scar ran down the length of the other eye and half of his face. He stepped out from the throng, his one eye glaring up at Drefan on his mount, whose mare balked, moving away, as the man spit on him.

“You, Drefan, are unfit to be Lord! You were nothing but a traitorous bastard.”

Nick turned, walking sideways around the man, whose one good eye glared up at Kahlan, cautiously. Which proved he was not as dumb as he was ugly.

“You would be so bold as to insult your Lord Rahl?” Hally asked.

“Aye, you know it be the truth, Mord-Sith.” He growled, hands in fists at his side.

Kahlan watched with interest as Cara moved her horse between the man and Drefan, whose face was turning red with anger. For half a heartbeat Kahlan considered ordering Drefan off his horse to fight this man. Let someone else kill the bastard. Yet Kahlan was well aware of the reality, that if Drefan were to die, then the bond of Lord Rahl would leave her control and pass to another. Not knowing if there was another bastard Rahl in the world, Kahlan couldn’t chance that, just as she could not chance Richard being Lord Rahl again. He was clearly not ready, wherever he was.

“You would be advised to back away soldier.” Cara said, hand resting on her Agiel.

“That so?” He glared up at her.

“Mm. You are well aware, as a man who has fought for D’Hara exactly what I am, and what I will do to you with the utmost pleasure.” She set the heel of her boot on his shoulder, daring him to move in any way. “If you do not step away from Lord Rahl.”

The massive man spit again, glaring at her. “I will remember you.”

“Of that I have no doubt. I hope to haunt your nightmares.” She sneered, using her own horse to guide the frightened mare Drefan rode away from the growing circle of bystanders.

“How could that man be so blatant?” Kahlan asked bringing Nick back alongside Cara.

“We can hate, and most of us do, the Lord Rahl. We can wish him dead, fantasized about it. But we cannot actually raise our hand to strike him down.” Cara offered her eyes still moving over the crowds.

Kahlan thought about that for a moment or two. “So, no matter how much Drefan hates me, no matter how much he wants me dead, he could never actually kill me?”

“That is correct.” Cara grinned, “No D’Haran could. Though you could get severely injured or coerced into something that could kill you. And anyone who doesn’t have the power of the bond in their blood could certainly attempt to kill you.”

“Attempt?” Kahlan laughed.

“I doubt very much that even you, the pincushion of the Midlands, is that easy to kill.” Cara’s grin deepened. Their horses passed through the last of the tents, and now there was more breathing room around all of them, and it was as though the horses relaxed a little more.

“Pincushion?” Kahlan asked.

“You’re the one always getting shot at by arrows, not me.”

Kahlan couldn’t help her grin, which turned into a laugh as Cara urged her horse into a run, Which Kahlan compelled Nick to mimic, as they left the others walking along the muddy road back into Aydindril.

Part 3

As they walked down the narrow trail through the woods, Berdine reached her hand out, her fingers moving around a low hanging branch, which she snapped in her fist, before throwing it over her shoulder. The crack was slightly satisfying, but not enough.

She reached out and grabbed another.

Its crack was slightly louder, almost in the same tone as a finger when it was broken.

“I said I was sorry.” Raina offered up from beside her.

It had been the thirteenth time she said it, and each time Berdine got angrier; even though she had not thought it possible.

Another low hanging branch was subjected to her fist’s pressure.

“We had better find that bastard and soon.”

Raina set her hand on Berdine’s arm, bringing her to a halt. “Do we even need to find him? We are in D’Hara now.”

“We’ve been in D’Hara for two weeks, Raina, chasing our tails, back tracking and trying to find that greasy little man.”

“Why don’t we just forget it, and head north again?”

“And what if she sends word? What if something has happened and Cara needs us?”

“Well, fine.” Raina set her hand on her hips. “Let’s just go back to Aydindril.”

“No.” Berdine pulled the word out, making it long and its tone was just as annoyed as she felt.

“By the Spirits, we can’t just travel along these woods hoping to find one little thief.”

“We can and will.”

“I said I was sorry.”

Berdine narrowed her eyes, staring deep into Raina’s black ones. “It is easier to apologize than to ask permission.”

“It was a good idea at the time!” Raina exclaimed.

Berdine’s eyebrows rose as high as they could. “Oh look, a spring. It will only be for a minute Berdine. The water’s warm Berdine. Let me rub your shoulders Berdine. Bah!” She threw her hands in the air.

“Oh you weren’t complaining at the time.” Raina said smacking her shoulder.

“Of course I wasn’t!” Berdine shouted as she glared down at the petite Mord-Sith.

“We will find him.” She leaned up and kissed her cheek sympathetically. “I promise, and when we do, you can kill the little worm who stole the journey book.”

“Promise?” She pouted.

“Yes.”

* * * * *

Cara pulled her horse up short stiffly to keep it from trampling the dozen or so children who were standing in the front courtyard of the Confessor’s Palace. Unnerved her horse turned in an angry circle, his eyes keeping watch on the little things milling around. Kahlan, having seen her stop, brought Nick through the open gates of the Palace at a slower run, and managed to keep him calm as a roar of excitement exploded around them. Children all began running from the steps of the Palace, from all around the courtyard, towards the two of them, calling out to the Mother Confessor.

“What are they doing?” Cara asked, her voice tight, not sure what to think about being suddenly swarmed by a mass of children all clamoring to get close to not only the Mother Confessor but also her.

“Oh!” Kahlan said smiling.

“Oh?”

“It must be the children’s procession.”

Cara disagreed. “It is much more like the children’s onslaught.”

Kahlan smiled at her. “It’s a small informal tradition. All the children of Aydindril participate, regardless of station. When the first blossoms of spring appear they rush to pluck as many as they can, and come to the Confessor’s Palace to place them at the entry way doors, as a way of ushering in spring to the Palace.”

“Then why are they throwing the flowers at you and not the doors?”

“Because I am here, silly.”

“I am not being silly, I am being observant. And there is still snow on the ground, where did they get these little yellow flowers?”

“They are winter aconite, the first blooms that are hearty enough to burst through the thinning crusts of frost on the eastern meadow outside of the city. Generally they grow against the stones at the base of the walls.” Kahlan smiled sadly. “I remember doing this very thing, plucking the flowers and bringing them here for the Mother Confessor.”

“Wasn’t the Mother Confessor your actual mother?”

“Yes.” Kahlan nodded.

“What was your mother’s name?” Cara asked.

Kahlan’s smile faltered slightly. “I don’t know.” Her eyes moved over the mass of children. “Yours?” she asked, looking at Cara.

“I don’t know either.” Cara admitted.

“Well, we have more and more things in common, don’t we, my love?” She winked, her smile returning brightly to mask whatever painful thoughts thinking of her mother had caused. Kahlan slipped off of Nick, to allow herself to be surrounded by the children, and took one of the yellow flowers from the nearest child. “Here.” She lifted it up to Cara.

“I don’t want a flower.” Cara grumbled.

“Smell it.”

With a forced sigh Cara bent and inhaled. The familiar sweetness of honey filled her senses, and she looked at Kahlan surprised. “Honey.”

“Mmhm.” Kahlan smiled. “Here, take it.” Cara started to argue, but the Confessor’s face left no room for argument. Rolling her eyes she snatched it from Kahlan. “Thank you.” She smiled, turning back to the children.

“So these… children… go and rip out all of the first flowers of spring. How very telling.”

“Stop being grumpy and come down here.”

“Oh, no thank you.”

Kahlan turned and gave her a stern look, but Cara held fast. Kahlan was being very perceptive, and though she may have wanted Cara at her side, she was not thinking of how she wanted her there. She was not forcing Cara through the bond.

Just for that, because Kahlan was being very courteous and careful with the bond, Cara slipped off of the back of her horse, and lifted her arms in unease as children surrounded her, offering flowers, with words of, here miss, please miss, blessings on you miss.

It was unnerving, and she scowled at them, crossing her arms, and forcing them all back. While Kahlan took the small flowers from them, thanking them all, bestowing blessings to them, setting her hand on their filthy little heads, Cara just glared. Glared and watched Kahlan moving through all of the little people.

Standing in the sea of flower assassins she observed Kahlan, seeing the hard set of her eyes, the lines around them as she focused. Kahlan was smiling, and her voice was even and calm, but she was holding back. Like she was in pain. Cara could read it in the lines around her eyes.

She had been so serious since returning to Aydindril. Cara felt somewhat responsible, for the additional internal pain, now that she was Mord-Sith. While Cara knew most of the strain on Kahlan was that of her duty, of being the Mother Confessor. In essence these children, they were what drove her to work late into the night reading mundane reports, what had her meeting with generals, and planning for future council meetings. Settling disputes over the price of grain, or the cost per head of sheep in the highlands. Each and every moment of her life was spent fulfilling her duty, and her obligations, it seemed.

The woman who stood amid all these children, laughing as she tossed handfuls of yellow honey scented flowers over all of the children’s heads was the Mother Confessor. Was Queen Kahlan of D’Hara. Cara felt herself frown as she wondered where was the silly and smiling girl who traveled the Midlands with the Seeker and her for years; where was the fierce warrior?

Perhaps she was still there, buried deep beneath the weight of her responsibility, which was sealed tight with the mortar of pain and hate. Kahlan needed relief, she needed to break out of the mold she had allowed herself to be poured into.

Her head lifted, and she looked over the tops of the children’s heads, to look at Cara, her blue eyes sparkling in the twilight. With a soft smile, she walked back through the mass of grabby handed ragamuffins who still hovered too close for Cara’s liking, and as they parted, Kahlan came to stand beside Cara.

“You don’t like children.” Kahlan said matter-of-factly.

“No.”

Kahlan looked as though she had expected a different answer from Cara. “But… why?”

“They are brimming with magic, and… and one thing I do not understand.”

Kahlan looked at her skeptically, as if she doubted there was any one thing that Cara did not understand.

“Innocence.” She revealed. “They look at the world and only see the good; they are overflowing with hope, and trust. They come up to me and see me as a woman, not a Mord-Sith that they should fear. Not as the scary monster I am. Children… possess…innocence I do not understand and it unnerves me.”

“You were innocent once.” Kahlan said softly.

“So long ago I don’t recall it.”

Kahlan leaned closer to Cara, so that she could feel the warmth of her body and the heat of her breath as she spoke close to her ear. “Then why do you want me to have a child?”

Cara turned to look at Kahlan, making sure the blue eyes were focused on her; she said with conviction, “People have children to see themselves, to know that they will live forever in that new life, and all the lives that will be born after. I want you to have that. I want you to live forever. I want… I want you to never know the pain of being the last of your kind.”

Kahlan’s face began to display emotion, the emotion of sadness, and she set her hand on Cara’s arm.

“Mistress!” A voice called out, interrupting whatever it was that Kahlan had been about to say. “Mother Confessor!” An older man was making his way through the cheering children, looking less than pleased. “Shew shoooo!” He snapped trying to get closer.

“Yes, porter, what is it?”

“A message has just arrived for you.”

“Well put it with all the others.” She sighed.

“This one is from the Seeker, with instructions that it be delivered to you straight away.” He said out of breath as he came up to them, and extending the small letter. Frowning Kahlan took it from him.

“Thank you.”

“It is my most humble honor, Mother Confessor.”

“See to it that the children are given sweets, will you?”

A cheer went up around them, children still clamoring to get closer to Kahlan, who offered smiles as she moved through them, determination in her walk. As the two of them went up the massive stone and marble steps to the entry doors of the Confessor’s Palace, she turned, and Cara watched her profile as her eyes looked over the crowd, seeming to take in each and every small face that was turned up at her with that bright glow of innocence. It still unnerved Cara, but seeing the look of the children reflected in Kahlan’s eyes, as her eyes seemed to gather moisture in them and the blue lightened, Cara began to really and truly understand this part of Kahlan. That she knew she had to have a daughter who would one day be the Mother Confessor, but also there was the part of Kahlan that merely wanted a child, to love and to nurture.

* * * * *

“What says the great and powerful Seeker?” Cara asked as she leaned against the warm fireplace in the Confessor’s anteroom.

“Great and powerful?” Kahlan’s sarcastic smile lightened her face. She broke the wax seal on the back of the letter, and unfolded it. Her eyes moved across the page, her brows furrowing.

“What is it, Kahlan?”

“ ‘The rains are beginning months early here in the low country.’ ” Kahlan read, as she began walking slowly in front of the fire. “ ‘Zedd and I have been visiting some of the larger provinces as we made our way to Shota, who was strangely absent from her home. There is an eerie quality to the mountains here. Zedd fears magic is a foot. I have other concerns. We are on our way to King’s Port in Westland, perhaps you recall it. You seemed to like it there. We will send word if anything appears to have changed. I hear your marriage has been quiet, and for that I am glad. We think we may have found a way for you to end the arrangement, if no offspring are on the way. Please be well. All my love, Richard.’ ”

“Offspring?”

“Apparently even the Seeker now is concerned with my need for procreation.” She crumpled the letter and threw it into the fire.

“Wait!” Cara moved forward. “There could have been a coded message on the back, or hidden in the letter.”

Kahlan looked at the parchment as it caught flame, burned a dark red and then turned to ash. It had been spelled. She sat heavily in her chair. “I… I wasn’t even thinking.”

“The problem is, all you are doing is thinking. You are thinking of this problem, this political web, that issue, and those coming problems. Thinking thinking thinking.” Cara mumbled low, walking around Kahlan’s chair, and setting her hands on her shoulders. “Stop thinking.”

“I can’t.” Kahlan whispered. “I…everyone wants something from me. Needs something from me. Expects things.” She looked up at Cara as she walked to stand in front of her. “Everyone but you.”

“Not true, Confessor.” Cara took both her hands, and guided her to standing. “There is much I expect. I expect you to be and do your very best. And I expect to love you for a very long time.”

“Your whole life?” Kahlan asked quietly.

Cara pulled her into a fierce hug, “The whole of my life, and beyond.” She vowed.

* * * * *

“I am worried for you.” Cara said softly into Kahlan’s neck as her arms became even firmer around her body.

Kahlan could feel a flurry of emotions just below the surface of her skin, prickling and soothing equally. She pressed her lips to Cara’s hair, breathing in the scent of smoke, and cold. “Why?” Her voice was thick with the emotion inside of her.

“I see you, Kahlan. I watch you. The anger under the surface, the pain, and the intense pressure and sadness. I don’t want you to be sad.” Cara held her out at arm’s length, her eyes deeply serious. “Kahlan I do not want you to ever be sad.”

“It’s an emotion. Just like happiness. To feel something…”

“Is better than not. I know that now.” Cara offered, running her gloved knuckles across Kahlan’s cheek. “What can I do? Name it, anything and I will do it, if it will help you.”

She leaned into Cara’s touch, believing her completely, that if Kahlan could only name what she needed Cara would see it done. From something as simple as drawing her a bath, to slaughtering a Shadrin. With her eyes closed she just felt the closeness emanating from Cara, the way her body leaned into Kahlan’s, the touch of her hand. What could her lover do, when Kahlan herself did not know the answers anymore to what would chase away the despondency that overwhelmed her at times.

“Is it…” Cara began and then stopped.

Slowly Kahlan opened her eyes, imploring Cara to finish.

“All those children. I see now that you… you want a child. For more reasons that to continue the line of confessors.” Cara began hesitantly.

“That’s just it, Cara. I don’t know if that is what I want.” As soon as Kahlan said it, she knew it wasn’t the truth. Her heart knew what it wanted. “Let me get lost in you. Let me make love with you.” She whispered, and then sighed as Cara’s lips found hers, a kiss delicate, full of promise.

* * * * *

She watched, already naked and in bed, as Kahlan undressed. She was facing the glass windows, her expression every bit open and vulnerable as Cara had ever seen before. The white dress fell, discarded for the time being. Next, in silence and with sure hands Kahlan removed the thick black leather of her corset, freeing her magnificent breasts with a deep sigh, that even her hair seemed to feel, as with draped across her skin, protecting her modesty. When the last of her garments were pooled at her feet, Kahlan turned slowly, her arms crossing over her chest, her eyes still deeply unfocused.

Cara lifted her arm, extending her hand, asking her to join her. With a slow blink of her eyes, her feet brought her across the thick rugs on the floor, and in taking her hand, Kahlan heave a sigh, as she slipped beneath the linens. Cara urged her to lay on her back, and she leaned over her, looking down into Kahlan’s guarded face.

When they were together there was a scalding fervor, underlined and accented by the emotions they both embraced as well as fought with internally. Cara could see those emotions under the slowly cracking surface of Kahlan’s face. Tenderly she set her lips to her cheek, then her nose, up to her eyebrows.

“I love you.” She whispered, before kissing one and then the other of Kahlan’s eyes. “Remember… you once asked me to be with you. Just be?”

Kahlan nodded.

“Be with me Kahlan.” Cara whispered, gently running her fingers through her hair, before brushing their lips together.

Their kiss was lingering; Cara could taste the thickness of sentiment on Kahlan’s tongue, just as she could feel the need pouring into her body through her fingertips as they moved faintly across her back. Their bodies began moving together, smooth skin caressing in the same deliberate tempo as their tongues, under the white linens, the candles and the fire filling the room with warm light.

Cara kissed along her cheek, and at the taste of salt, she looked into Kahlan’s sad eyes, watched as another tear slowly moved across her skin. It was almost as though the longing and the sadness was substantial in the room with them, joining with them. Cara could feel the touch of it all around.

Her full lips set on Kahlan’s cheek, kissing the tear stains, as she slipped her hands under her shoulders, and then delicately rolled them to the side, urging Kahlan on top of her.

If she believed in things like fairies, or benevolent spirits, not that she did, Cara would swear she heard them singing. Reality and the world did not exist in this space or time. The bed, yielding down beneath them, the embrace of the linens, the warm glow of the light in the room, all of it made this moment seem like a dream. The only thing that rooted Cara in her belief that this was real, were the feelings that continued to increase inside of her. The sadness she drank from her lover’s mouth, the need she felt under her skin, the touch of Kahlan’s thighs moving beside her own, as they rocked together, touching as much skin as they could. There seemed to be all the time in the world, and while Cara felt the wetness pooled between her own legs, as well as the deep throbbing of her need, there was no rush. The sensation of Kahlan’s breasts caressing her own, her lips being taken was enough. She swore she heard the trilling sound of song in each deep breath Kahlan took.

Her hands moved to comb through Kahlan’s hair, keeping it at bay so she could see her mate’s face. Her eyes fluttered open, and lifted her lips from her; Kahlan’s smile was haunted, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Kahlan hesitantly ran her finger tips under Cara’s own eyes, and that was when she realized that she too was crying.

The melancholy that poured from her mate added to that which she kept locked away. She felt helpless suddenly, as though nothing she could do or say would be able to change the outcome of their lives. As though in moments such as these, the bittersweet reminder of time plagued her. Filling Cara with a sense of dread.

She wanted so very much. She needed so much. If only there could be more time, more moments with just the two of them, more air to fill their lungs as they battled whatever deceitful tyrants emerged. She would battle and break repeatedly each and every day, so long as they could have this. Could be so close, without saying a word.

She pledged her love with the meeting of their lips, swore her fidelity with the caress of her tongue inside of Kahlan’s mouth, and vowed to find a way to stop her tears as her kiss turned from gentle confirmation to a stronger touch of passion.

Cara shifted beneath the comforting weight of Kahlan’s body, before pressing her thigh against her, feeling Kahlan’s wetness against her skin for the first time since they began this silent dance.

* * * * *

The change from melancholy to passion surged through her, making the intimate touch of Cara’s muscular thigh bittersweet. Breaking their kiss, Kahlan looked down into Cara’s eyes, seeing the free flowing tears, amazed at the brightness of her eyes, and the utter anguish painted across her face. Everything she ever wanted was here, with her in this woman. There was no one and nothing that she felt that she could not do, could not have with Cara at her side.

Even that one elusive thing that kept creeping into her consciousness did not seem impossible. Nothing was, she determined, not if she had moments like this.

Kahlan blinked, felt tears fall from her lashes, and as she watched, they fell on Cara’s face, merging with her own, becoming one solid tear that traced the contour of her cheek.

Rolling her hips back, pressing into Cara, she cautiously moved her hand, resting it over Cara’s heart, feeling the deep, constant beating. The beat filled her mind for a moment, a slight spark of anger catching her breath, but she shook her head. Denying that emotion. . The side of Kahlan that was tenderness and love would win out this night, keeping the anger and the pain at bay. Mentally she forced it all into a small place, throwing the locks on it. Love. That was what she needed to feel, and that was what she felt as Cara set her hand on Kahlan’s heart.

Looking back at her lover, she felt want, and allowed herself to give in to it. Her fingers moved between Cara’s breasts, over her taunt stomach. Her fingers slipped through her wet curls, before tenderly caressing her swollen clit. Passing over it once, twice, and after the third time, as her tears continued to fall, Kahlan gently entered Cara, filling her completely with two fingers. Tenderly Cara’s hips shifted again, moving along the length of Kahlan’s fingers, the two of them moving together. In her mind she focused all of her love, every good part of her soul into her hand, through her fingers and inside of Cara. She sighed Cara’s name heavily as she felt the blonde’s fingers as they entered inside of her as well, mimicking her movements.

As they rock together, Kahlan’s tears falling on her face, mixing and merging with those Cara cried.

“I want.”

Cara urged. “Tell me.”

“I want to make this.”

“This?”

“I want you to be with my child.” Kahlan said softly, her eyes she knew expressing her fear at uttering aloud what her soul had been crying for since the moment she penetrated Cara. Her free hand moved over Cara’s stomach, palm flat over the skin that she knew would never carry a child. That still did not quell the yearning Kahlan nurtured in her soul, wishing that she could heal her mate, and be the one who created a joined life inside of Cara. “If I could wish it I would.”

“Wishes are not safe, we know that.”

“Does it make me wrong for wanting it?”

“Only if I too am wrong for wanting the same thing.” Cara whispered, and the words surrounded Kahlan like a warm shroud, protecting her, and giving her strength. It was as though, with those simple words strung together Kahlan felt a thousand promises from Cara. That her mate wanted the same thing, that even though the harsh truth was that neither could make the dream come to life, that Cara; hard, stubborn, closed off Cara wanted Kahlan to carry her child made her soul cry.

While Kahlan knew what her Confessor power felt like, and now she knew what it felt like to take and give using the power of the Mord-Sith, neither compared to the sudden power she felt surging through her body; the power that grew from her heart and her soul and combined with that of Cara.

This was not powerful magic; this was not magic at all. This was love.

Kahlan’s tear soaked lips met Cara’s and their kiss was again slow, deep, as they moved inside one another, filled with emotion, and the painful desperation of wanting something that they both knew could never be.

That reality, as harsh and heartbreaking as it was, did not stop the strength behind Kahlan’s thrusts into Cara. Did not stop her from sucking a full bottom lip into her mouth, or grinding her sex down against the probing fingers inside of her. If by sheer will alone she could create life, she would have. She knew, as her insides began to trembled around deep and steady thrusts, as she felt the same sensations overcoming Cara, she knew that when she did fall over the edge of ecstasy it would be completely overwhelming.

Cara’s fingers expertly reached deep inside of her, pressing upon that one spot that had Kahlan’s back arching, and she almost stumbled in her thrusts, until she brushed her thumb across Cara’s hard clit, and felt the blonde suck in all of the breathe from Kahlan’s lungs as she gasped. Breaking their kiss, Cara moaned Kahlan’s name and increased the movement of her fingers sliding in and out, tightened her own quivering muscles around Kahlan’s fingers as she shattered beneath her, coating Kahlan’s fingers and hand with her exquisite wetness.

Trembling, Kahlan’s body stilled for a half breath, until a mournful sob broke from her lips, and she too fell over the edge, her tears falling from her eyes with painful abandon. She fell upon Cara, who wrapped her arms around her tightly, and just allowed herself to grieve, not caring how loud her sobs were, or the amount of tears that fell from her burning eyes.

Ch 3

A scream tore through the veil of sleep, and Cara’s eyes opened immediately, her heart already racing, as she sat up in the massive bed, and reached for the sleeping form of Kahlan beside her. Gripping her shoulders she shook her while saying her name repeatedly.

Weary blue eyes opened, looking up at her, black was swirling around the center of her eyes, her skin pale, even Cara could see that in the faint light.

“Tell me.” Cara ordered, knowing the terror still had a hold on Kahlan, and would until she released it into the air.

“So much death. And… and I was causing it. I was covered in blood, thrilling with the warmth of it as I marched through men, slashing with my sword. The… the blood rage fueled me and I was confessing those around me who were too far for me to hack away with the blade.”

“Why?”

“Because you were gone. I… I felt this consuming rage because you were gone.” Her eyes deepened in black. “You were gone Cara and I was bent on killing each and every person who was not you.”

Cara pulled her into her arms, fiercely holding her.

“I’m…I am a monster.” Kahlan hissed in a voice without a drop of sadness in tone, just dark resignation.

* * * * *

The two large men had eyed one another apprehensively as they sat in Kahlan’s office, not sure how to react when sitting a mere two feet from one another. Slight under the breathe insults were slung at first, until both sat attentively as Kahlan explained to them that they needed to come to a decision. She was not available to be the High General for both the D’Haran and Aydindril armies, and she hoped the two of them could decided which one of them would take the lead. Or at the very least suggest aother officer who would manage all the different branches of their service men.

Since her dream the night before Kahlan had come to a firm decision that the armies of D’Hara and the Midlands needed to be combined, and be prepared for any eventuality. When Cara had pressed, to find out exactly what it was that made Kahlan suspect that a large enemy was threatening the Midlands, she had merely mumbled that it was better to be overtly prepared than caught unawares.

For the past twenty minutes the two formidable and opinionated men had been disagreeing with one another over every single aspect of Kahlan’s request. And she just sat in her chair, legs crossed, fingers drumming on her knee, and face a mask of indifference.

But her eyes burned with impatience. It was as though through their love making the night before Kahlan had used up every last ounce of her compassion and tenderness, to leave her only with rage. Cara could almost smell it from where she stood beside the door, watching every one and thing in the room

“Not that I would expect a lowly Sergeant at Arms to understand the scope and breath of an army the size of which D’Hara has.”

“You would do right to watch your tone. It was this Sergeant who laid waste to four thousand of your men.”

“Four thousand? That is nothing. A crystal of sand on the massive beach beside the ocean. You do not even begin to comprehend the majesty of D’Hara. I do. I understand these things.” General Reibisch snapped.

“Doubtful. A bunch of rutting marauders carrying a flag of a tyrant. All out for yourselves.”

“Tyrant? At least we believe in something, and have a flag to follow. Unlike all of you mismatched miscreants playing at war.”

“We have our very own hearts and souls guiding us, while all of D’Hara is just following behind the smoke and mirrors of some mystical bond.” Wyborn rose from his chair, his face turning scarlet.

“Well our bond ties us to YOUR MOTHER. So where does that leave your argument now?”

“ENOUGH!” Kahlan slammed her fist down on the table. “This is unacceptable. You need to come to a consensus and you need to do it now!” She shoved back from the table, her chair slamming against the wall behind her. “If there is a threat coming from the south, then by the Spirits we will not just sit idly by and allow the people of this land, or of any land, be sent to slaughter, merely because we could not come to a simple understanding.”

“Mother Confessor.”

Her eyes flashed with rage as she glared at Sergeant Wyborn, and he held his tongue.

“I will not stand by while threats are lobbed against any of my people. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother Confessor.”

“Yes My Queen.”

“What say you then?” Kahlan demanded.

General Reibisch looked to Sergeant Wyborn, his hand pulling on his beard. Cara could see that he wanted to please Kahlan, wanted to follow the command of his Lord Rahl, but he could not relent and merely bow down to this other man and his command. Sergeant Wyborn’s blue eyes echoed the same sentiment; they both seemed at an impasse, neither willing to back down. Stubbornness was an asset on the battlefield, but with the mood Kahlan was in, Cara worried that in a moment both of the men would either be unconscious, or confessed.

A slow, low rumbling laugh came from Drefan’s lips as he sat in his chair in the corner of the room. It started as a whisper, gaining volume. His lips pulled back in a sneer as she glared at Kahlan. “You will fail.” He hissed out.

Cara actually grimaced with the force of the backhanded slap Kahlan set across his face. His laughter continued for a moment more before his hands went to his throat, and his eyes bulged as he seemed suddenly unable to breathe. Kahlan’s profile as she glared down at him was pure and absolute hatred, and Cara knew that she was fighting an internal struggle not to merely kill Drefan at that moment.

She spun away from him, and he gasped in a lungful of air. But his expression showed that he no longer felt like laughing. Kahlan walked back to her desk, and set her palms flat on the wood, her voice monotone as she readdressed the two men before her. “I will no longer condone bickering. As the two of you cannot come to a serviceable decision, I will make one for you, and I guarantee neither of you shall like it.” She snatched her quill and a piece of parchment. “A courier will deliver this to Galea, specifically Prince Harold.”

“Mistress?” Wyborn asked.

“I want him here. Galea has the largest standing army in the Midlands, and as their commander perhaps Prince Harold can understand that when I give an order it is to be obeyed!” In a flourish she signed her name, and then shoved the letter across the table at Sergeant Wyborn. “See that this is delivered. Now, GET OUT!” She screamed.

Both men looked at one another, and then General Reibisch slammed his fist to his chest and briskly turned and left the room. In a slightly slower move, Sergeant Wyborn lifted the letter, folding it in half before he too saluted Kahlan. His jaw was working, as if he wanted to say something, but her eyes and her expression, which as cold enough to freeze the blood of any man, kept his tongue still.

With eyes down cast he too left the room.

Drefan made a low sound, and Cara watched as his eyes rolled back and he fell from his chair to the floor. Her glance narrowed on him, and once she saw his chest rise with the intake of breath she too allowed herself to breathe.

She pushed off of the wall, cautiously approaching the table. “Kahlan.”

“Why am I so angry?” She asked dropping into her chair roughly.

“Pent up power, among other things.” Cara leaned against the table, crossing her arms. “How long has it been since you confessed someone?”

Kahlan ran her hand through her hair. “Months.”

“Since you let yourself go?”

“Too long.” Kahlan admitted.

“You are a dozen different women, crammed into one body. That is dangerous.”

Kahlan looked up at her seriously. “It is not your fault.”

“Mm.” Cara did not agree. She needed to find away to help Kahlan, but until she did, she could do something about all her pent up rage. Firmly she rapped her knuckles on the wood of the table. “I shall have Lord Comatose taken to his rooms. You do what you feel you need to here, and then go to your rooms.”

“Are you sending me to bed without supper for my temper tantrum?”

Cara smiled mischievously, “Something like that.”

* * * * *

While the idea of leaving everything behind and going up to the sanctuary of her rooms tempted Kahlan as the hours passed, she found herself lost in the mundane, before her headache began to return in earnest. While she drank tea in the hope of clearing the pain and the fog over her eyes, nothing seemed to help, and just as the sun began to slip away behind the mountains to the west, she climbs the stairs, her limbs heavy, her mind still full of dread. Dread at the clarity of her nightmare the night before, dread that something was coming on the wind, but it was elusively evading her.

She nodded to the guards beside her chamber door, and slipping in was surprised that the Mord-Sith dressed in red standing beside the roaring fire was not Cara, but Rikka.

“Mistress.” She bowed her head in greeting.

“Rikka.” She replied, wondering what was going on. Her eyes moved to the bed chamber door, as Hally stepped through, carrying a large square of blue silk.

“Mistress.” Hally offered as well, as she extended her arms and the bundle.

“What is this?”

“A gift.” Hally smiled.

“A gift? Really?” Kahlan said, feeling her headache lighten somewhat as she took the bundle and moved to set it on the small table. “From?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Rikka chuckled.

Kahlan looked up with a smile. “I suppose not. Where is she?”

“Waiting for you, in the red room.”

Kahlan’s brow rose. “She hates that room.” She mused, her fingers moving to the deep blue silk that was bound around the bundle. It reminded her of her own eyes, and was fairly certain that was the reason for its selection.

“Who is watching the bastard Rahl with the two of you here?”

“Never you mind.” Rikka said, “It is taken care of.”

As Kahlan parted the last lengths of silk, from around the gift itself, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes flicked up at Rikka, who was looking discreetly away. She looked to Hally, who also had averted her eyes in deep respect. Slowly Kahlan reached forward, allowing her finger tips to barely graze the supple red leather.

“But… I don’t understand. Why?”

“Mistress Cara would like for you to wear this.” Hally explained.

“I don’t know how to.” Kahlan said her voice hesitant.

“We are to help you dress, Mistress Kahlan.” Rikka said evenly.

Swallowing deeply, due to nervous apprehension or perhaps at the overwhelming love and lust that pumped through her body she was not sure. Kahlan lifted the red leather, holding it before her, her eyes moving over it with a sudden pleasure. “Thank you both.”

…tbc…

Part 4

“How on earth did she manage to have this made?” Kahlan mused, her eyes closely inspecting the fine stitch work on the leather, and the laces on the sides.

“Mistress Cara is exceptionally resourceful, when she needs to be.” Hally smirked as she took the leather from Kahlan’s hands. She did not want to let it go. It seemed to breathe in her hands, comforting that part of her that was Mord–Sith.

“But.” She protested.

“You must bathe first, Mistress Kahlan.” Rikka explained, taking her arm gently.

That was the second time she referred to her by that title. Kahlan looked at her, searching her calm face, looking for any indication, or hint as to what was truly going on. There was a small idea growing in the back of her mind, but she doubted it could be true. It seemed too luxurious to be true.

The idea of sliding her skin into the red leather; the thought of it conforming to her body’s angles, the idea of leather on leather as she moved wantonly against Cara.

Kahlan flushed at the mental image, before she swallowed, regaining some composure. She raised her brows. “Bathe, what do you mean?”

Rikka grinned. “It is all part of the… process?”

“Cara just slides into hers.” Kahlan argued.

Small hands took her other arm, and together the two Mord–Sith escorted her into the bed chamber where a hammered copper bathtub sat before the fire, steam rising from the water. There was also a distinct perfume in the room. A warm and musky scent that seemed familiar.

“This is the first time.” Hally mentioned.

Kahlan stopped, her head snapping back and forth to look at the two of them. “This isn’t just a ploy to get me into red leather is it?”

“No Mistress Kahlan.” Hally said seriously.

“And… and Cara isn’t here because?

“That is complicated.” Rikka said. “Now strip, before the water gets cold again.”

“Strip?” Kahlan asked.

“Do you plan on bathing in your white dress? For all I know that is how you confessors do it.”

Kahlan narrowed her eyes, as her hands stubbornly went to the ties on the front of the dress. “Should I assume it is also part of all this that the two of you stand over me and watch?”

“Be thankful we are the ones here, and not Berdine or Raina.” Hally smirked. “They would keep you in that water for hours.”

Kahlan grinned knowingly, as she dropped her dress to the floor.

“Oh. My.” Hally said, her eyes slowly moving over Kahlan’s body once the corset fell to the floor. The intensity of her bright blue eyes roaming over Kahlan’s skin brought about a distinct feeling of shyness at being observed in such an intimate way. It had been a while since anyone but Cara looked at her that way, and it unnerved her suddenly.

“You know what, Hally, you prepare the oils for her hair, and I will help Mistress Kahlan.”

“But. I . Did you. I mean look at. Oh. OW!” She rubbed her backside after Rikka kicked it.

Kahlan’s hand went over her lips to stifle her laugh.

“Forgive her. While you are quite becoming, SOME GIRLS forget their place!” She yelled after Hally, who snuck one more look around the corner of the open doors.

“Thank you Rikka.” Kahlan blushed slightly. “So, is this a bath of blood?” Kahlan joked as she walked closer to the copper tub.

“No. Water and oils. To soften your skin.”

“I was kidding.”

“The blood comes later.” Rikka continued, and Kahlan froze, one leg submerged in the hot water.

“You aren’t serious.”

Her expression was completely unreadable. “Aren’t I?”

* * * * *

Efficiently Rikka used a small copper cup to pour water over Kahlan’s shoulders. Aside from the momentary feeling of shyness being under the predatory gaze of Hally, she was calm. Being Mother Confessor meant she was used to being bathed by others, as well having assistance when she dressed. While Kahlan still possessed modesty, it was reserved for moments when her emotions ruled her. Instances like this, being naked in crystal clear water, her breast casually resting on the surface, did not register as odd. She was trying to relax with the warmth of the water, and in the scent of the oils. They were stronger now, and she could place why they had seemed familiar. Cara’s leather held this scent, but very faintly. Kahlan had thought the scent was from the oil the blonde would rub into the red leather, to retain the suppleness, but now she was beginning to think it was more. Because the scent was affecting her mood. Sharpening her thoughts.

“Are you looking forward to returning to D’Hara?” She asked Rikka.

“It doesn’t matter to me either way. Where you go, I go.”

“So everyone says.” Kahlan said dejectedly, cupping her hand , lifting water, and then letting it drip slowly back into the tub.

“And will continue to.”

“But… why do they all seem… unhappy?”

“D’Harans do not get unhappy.”

Kahlan looked at her over her shoulder. “Rikka.”

Her eyes narrowed for a moment stubbornly, before she sighed. “They all lived at the People’s Palace at the time of Darken Rahl. It… was not a pleasant time. This. Here. In Aydindril? This has been a pleasant time.”

“You never knew Darken?”

“Oh I knew him. He made a point to know all of his Mord–Sith. But…I displeased him, and was sent away to patrol in the Deep Nothing.” She said in a controlled voice.

“Deep Nothing?” Kahlan did not recall ever hearing of such a place.

“South of the Azrith Plains, there are wide deserts and thin forests. It is a desolate place, of cracked rock and dead civilizations. We call it the Deep Nothing. I was sent there.” Rikka explained, walking around to face Kahlan. She slowly added two drops of bitter smelling red oil to the water. As it hit and diluted the scent of clove filled her senses. The exotic bite of the scent opened her eyes wider and the colors of the fire behind Rikka seemed to glow in a dozen different shades of orange.

“How did you displease him?” She asked gently, not sure if Rikka would answer. She was not as easy to coerce into answering her questions as Berdine had been.

Understatedly she said. “I bore him a son.”

Kahlan looked at her startled.

“A son without magic.”

“I thought Mord–Sith.” Kahlan began, and Rikka waved off her question.

“Mord–Sith can have children. Unless they are…altered. Many have been. I was not then. I am now.”

She set her hand on Rikka’s. “I am sorry.”

“Do not be Mistress Kahaln. To Lord Rahl, a child born without magic? It is the same as if you were to bear a son.” Her eyes were cold, but honest. Kahlan looked down into the water of her bath.

“I see.”

“Life… it works out as it should most of the time.”

“I like to think so.”

“Yes. You do.” Rikka set her hand on her head and shoved down, forcing Kahlan under the water. For a moment, as the hand held her under the water she panicked. A bolt of anger ran through her mind, screaming at her that what more should she have expected. But that was swallowed by the calm understanding that this was not an act to drown her. Still, as the hand moved, Kahlan’s head broke from the surface of the water, and she spit out water while sputtering, “What are you doing?”

“There was all this talking and we need to hurry. I am assisting you in hurrying.” Rikka beamed.

* * * * *

She sat in the darkness of the room, not wanting any light, not wanting to see this tomb. Instead she sat, her eyes as wide as they could be, swallowing the darkness. As the door opened she turned her head sharply away, as not to be affected by the light from the hall.

“She is almost ready.” Hally’s voice whispered. “I… I am not sure about this, Mistress.”

“Well I am.” Cara’s voice was dangerous.

She listened to the footsteps across the floor as they came closer, and flinched away when Hally tried to touch her shoulder.

“Make it be someone else.”

“Never.”

“Mistress?” Her tone pleaded.

“I SAID NO!” Cara yelled, standing and towering over the blond. “Kahlan will never know this with another. I will give her that. It’s… it is the least I can do.” A small noise came from Hally. “If you speak again, you will regret it.” In the dark she knew Hally’s eyes lowered. “Light the fire.” Cara growled, walking away from the other Mord–Sith.

If asked she would vehemently deny it, but there was a slight feeling inside of her that quite possibly could be apprehension. Feeling the familiar pull at the back of her head. The shame that cultivated in her while sitting in the dark, waiting for Kahlan. It had spread through her, making her remember things. Things better left forgotten. The sound of screams. Her own.

She understood Hally’s concern. But it could not cut through the thick membrane that was built around her, that had grown thicker and tougher over these months as she listened to Kahlan thrashing in the night, as she held her as she cried upon waking from nightmares.

She had put the demon inside of Kahlan. All Cara could think of at this point was finding a way to ignite that demon and cause her to burn. And burn so hot and bright that she would exhaust herself for a time.

The sound of metal on stone, and sparks behind her brought her from her introspection.

Cara just needed time.

“Hally…I will be alright.”

“She can and will do what the others could not.”

“That is my hope.” Cara sighed. “Wait for us. You know where.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

* * * * *

Rikka pulled roughly on the ties on her side, cinching the leather across her chest in such a way that was even tighter than a corset, and it was hard to breathe suddenly. Without a moment’s pause, Rikka was securing the actual corset around her ribs.

Kahlan now understood that these pieces of additional thick leather were to protect the body underneath. Protection for the ribs, and the collar was to protect the throat from the Confessor’s touch, or a wayward blade.

“It is so tight. I never realized. Before it was snug, but I never thought.” Kahlan grumbled under her breath.

“You have worn Mord–Sith leather before?” Rikka looked up at her with an actual expression of surprise on her face.

“Sort of. Zedd spelled my clothes, turning them into Mord–Sith leather.”

“Bah, different then. Getting into them is part of the torment.” Rikka grinned as she reinforced the ties along Kahlan’s thighs.

“Yes. It is.” Kahlan grimaced.

“Now, sit. Hally will do your hair.”

“You expect me to sit? You made them so tight I doubt I can bend at the waist.” Kahlan complained.

The look she received was a cross between impatience and joy. Joy because Kahlan was sure that if she did not sit down and immediately, that Rikka would sit her down. As she learned by the second time the Mord–Sith dunked her head under the water without warning, Rikka was not one to cater to hesitation.

Kahlan went to the chair, and sat down quickly. There was a slight resistance, and then, as if by magic, the leather moved with her, not against her. She had never experienced such a sensation. Expecting one out come, yet feeling another.

“Sorry that I was inappropriate.” Hally muttered from behind her. As she was about to tell Hally there was nothing to apologize for, hands moved over her hair, distributing warm oil to her wet hair. The sensation was interesting, and the scent, dark and earthy filled her senses. “You were… um, unexpectedly well proportioned.”

Rikka snorted as she kneeled in front of Kahlan, pulling on the new boots. They fit perfectly, as did every stitch of the leather. Kahlan was amazed that Cara had been able to have all of this made, and to fit her so precisely.

“Fine, it was expected. Looking at you one knows that you are a beauty and well built. Um. Just please, don’t tell Mistress Cara.”

“She would not mind.” Kahlan smiled gently.

Hally took her hair in her hands, and leaned over her shoulder to look her in the eye. “Mistress Cara? We are talking of that Cara? Oh, she would mind.”

Uncontrollably Kahlan winced when the comb raked through her hair, and Rikka noticed. Her dark eyes narrowed, and her bottom lip seemed to move, as though she were going to say something. Instead she watched. Kahlan could feel the weight of her gaze, and as Hally pulled the comb and oils through her hair again, it sent spikes of pain through the roots of her hair, into her scalp, triggering the jabbing pain of the headache she had been fighting off for the better part of the day.

“Mmmmhm.” Rikka said curtly, before standing up and walking away.

“Hold still, Kahlan.” Hally poked her shoulder, as she pulled the comb one more time.

Her eyes watched as Rikka went to a small chest, opened the lid, and she moved her hand around inside. She could feel Hally beginning to braid her hair tightly, as Rikka sauntered back to them. She shoved out a gloved hand.

“Chew this.”

Kahlan looked at the small leaves in her fingers, and then sniffed.

“Mint?”

“Yes.” Rikka said.

“Oh! Was I pulling to hard?” Hally’s tone was apologetic.

“No, Hally.” Kahlan said softly, her eyes still arguing silently with Rikka.

“It’s for the headache.”

“I never said I had a headache.”

“Your face told me, your lips were being stubborn.” She pushed the leaves against Kahlan’s lips like a mother would with a stubborn child. “You need this.”

Hally patted her shoulder. “Take it Kahlan. It will help.”

“Oh?” She asked, opening her mouth and Rikka shoved the leaves inside.

“We get headaches as well.” Hally confided.

Just hearing that sent a chill down Kahlan’s spine, and she did bite down on the leaves, their oil filling her mouth. She doubted very much their headaches were like the ones she was having. But if it did have something to do with being Mord–Sith, then she knew they would increase. Because it seemed as though every aspect that she now contained being Mord–Sith was increasing.

The pulling suddenly stopped. And a hush seemed to fall over the room. Kahlan had not noticed that her eyes had closed, and she did not know how much time had passed. Her mind felt sluggish and sharp at the same time. Different.

Slowly her eyes opened, and Rikka was standing before her, head bowed, and she watched as Hally moved to stand beside her. Both had hands relaxed at their sides.

Kahlan stood, and looked down, feeling the somewhat comforting pressure against her neck from the leather. The leather that was there to, in theory, protect a Mord–Sith from the touch of a confessor. Kahlan knew though, that leather would not keep her magic from its intended course. Nothing could; nothing save love. And that secret she would hold protectively close.

Looking at her own legs encased as they were she felt almost outside of herself, as though the Confessor was standing and observing the Mord–Sith. Circling. Analyzing. Hunting out weaknesses. Appreciating the line of her own thighs, the curve of her own breasts. The Mother Confessor that was Kahlan approved of what she saw; and in her approval a feeling of unrest washed over her. Unrest as she felt the Mord–Sith stretching her limbs, wiggling her fingers and toes.

Kahlan had felt this before, in the days following her evolution, when Cara had been with her in the high tower, as they chained Drefan’s wrists, as she dragged her Agiel across his skin watching it pucker and blister. Watching it cut and bleed. Hearing his cries, his screams, until Cara had silenced him with a rag in his mouth.

The kindness that was in her heart, what made Kahlan who she was, it was still there. It had still been there in that room when she obliterated Drefan’s peace of mind. She had cried tears of guilt and of remorse as her lips pulled tight in a sneer of retribution and hate. As she tore his skin she hated him and she hated herself even more. And in hate, in that bright burning light of pain and hate still lived the soothing dark of love, of kindness.

Cara was right. Inside Kahlan were so many things, so many people. So many different and seemingly conflicted emotions and desires. She was the Mother Confessor, and Mord–Sith. She was bound to and in love with a woman and on a path to have a man’s child. She was ruler of the Midlands, and Queen of her enemy, D’Hara. She was a gentle soul, and a fierce warrior.

She could not remember being just one thing. One woman. Was that time gone, much as Cara had said before? That in the eyes of children there is innocence, and in that web of unknowing, in the hidden realm of innocent smiles was that the only time when Kahlan had been just one thing. Been just Kahlan?

The last time she felt like anything but the Mother Confessor was shortly after she had traveled to Westland, having met Richard and Zedd. The three of them had traveled through the Midlands on their quest, and for safety she had put away her white dress and donned the simple traveling clothes and in the days and then weeks that passed she felt like Kahlan Amnell. Just that girl, moving through the countryside, fighting battles, and having adventures. She never forgot who she was; it merely was put to rest for a time. She was not one thing, defined by the ideas of others and their perception of her. Instead she was anything she wanted to be. A warrior, a girl. Anything.

That same feeling came over her now, of putting the Mother Confessor away, on a guarded little shelf in her mind. Instead of becoming a girl on a quest, she became Kahlan, Mord–Sith. Her chin tilted up, her vision cleared, gloved fingers curled around the Agiel, and she felt the power in the pain. Expanding through her muscles. This sense that she could do anything, defeat any foe.

* * * * *

Slipping through the door, and into the red room, Kahlan heard the door close behind her, as her eyes adjusted to the faint light from the small fire burning in the hearth. She looked from beneath the hood pulled over her head, through the gloom, her eyes finding and exploring Cara’s back. She was facing away, and the flames seemed to highlight the polished angles of her red leather shoulders, back, hips, and the glossy sheen of the long blonde braid that hung down her back.

It was startling. To see her hair pulled tight, and the long braid laying like snake between her shoulder blades. The wig makers of Aydindril had outdone themselves this time. It was seamless.

Kahlan had never known Cara like this. Only once, when she confessed Richard, and he unleashed the power from the boxes of Orden had she seen Cara like this. Her feelings at that time had been much different, her heart merely seeing an enemy, a form to destroy.

She wondered why the change, but held her tongue. There was a mood emanating from Cara, filling this room; Kahlan knew that speaking was not needed, nor would be tolerated at this moment.

What would be tolerated? What was the cause of her being dressed like this, what did Cara have in store for her? The mere thoughts racing through her mind caused her heart rate to increase, and her breath to flutter.

Cara turned slowly, her hands clasped before her, face solemn yet no less beautiful. Her expression was one of patient consideration. Cara’s eyes were transfixed as Kahlan lifted her hands, and lowered the cloak she had hidden under as she moved through the halls of the palace. It dropped to the floor, taking with it the last part of her that was Mother Confessor. She stepped away from that part of herself, and emerged, held and caressed in the red leather of full Mord–Sith regalia. This is the first time she felt the power and the pride of the leather holding her every curve, moving with her every breath.

The approval in Cara’s eyes caused them sparkle with the moisture of a hundred emotions.

This moment amazed Kahlan, as just a year ago she never would have thought this woman capable of showing such emotion on her face, let alone speaking the words aloud. Never could she have pictured that she knew the sound of Cara’s voice telling her that she loved her, nor known the feeling of being held in strong arms turned tender.

Life had become something completely different than she ever imagined.

Kahlan would not change a moment of it, not the bad, nor the painful. Because it got them to this moment. It led her to this red room, with her lover looking impeccable as she stalked around her, green eyes wet with approval.

“You are the most exquisite woman in all of the world.” Cara admired.

Cara moved around her, keeping their bodies barely separated, a mere wisp could slip between, barely touching her. Kahlan closed her eyes, feeling the sensation of Cara so very near, as if the leather on her skin actually amplified her perception.

“Touch me.” Kahlan whimpered before she could stop herself.

“Not yet.” Cara replied her voice low and in command.

“Why?”

“Because, there is still much to do.”

“Do?”

“MmHm.” Silence punctuated by the popping of the fire. The voice that spoke, while still Cara, was authoritative, honest and very firm. “Kahlan, I see you fighting every day what you now are, how it boils under your skin, and controls your actions. I see it, and part of me is so very angry that I did this to you.”

“You did nothing to me but guide me Cara.” Her eyes locked on to Cara’s. “The secret to breaking is that one must break them self.”

“I want you to feel it, I want you to let her out, the Mord–Sith inside. You will let her out tonight and she will run through the shadows, howl at the moon and she will taste the blood and pain she craves.”

Kahlan felt like she had just been read the most romantic sonnet, the words and Cara’s hard voice soothed her skin, made small hairs rise.

Cara slipped a dagger into Kahlan’s belt unexpectedly.

“You are good with your hands, as well as the Agiel, but the blade is your weapon. It will serve you. Just as I serve you.”

“I want you to stand with me Cara, not to serve me.”

The lips that pressed to hers were scalding hot, and pushed with such desire that she would have taken a step backwards, if not for the hand that was suddenly on her back, holding her close, but not gently. She could feel Cara’s breath as she forced it from her flaring nostrils, and the intensity of the kiss seared itself into her mind. With her skin warming beneath its new armor she felt the temperature in an entirely new way. Kahlan used her lips to urge Cara’s to open, and they did, slightly. Enough for her to snake the tip of her tongue inside the delicately wet mouth, the flavor of which issued a moan from Kahlan. Cara pressed harder with her lips, before pulling away completely.

Slowly Cara ran her fingertips across her wet bottom lip, her eyes moist, pupils dilated. “Shall we go?” Three words, but inside of them, between them, Kahlan could hear the promise, that when they returned from where ever Cara was taking her, that they would have time together. To intimately discover the nuances of what she was, and what she may be capable of behind the protected guise of this armor.

“Yes.” Kahlan growled.

* * * * *

They had moved as one, the four of them, two blondes two brunettes. Their strides were purposeful and hard on the floors of the palace. Any servant or guard, who happened to be in their path, scurried elsewhere, eyes down cast. It was a different sort of response than Kahlan was used to, but one that seemed fitting. The people of Aydindril knew Mord–Sith as they were, as the select group of guards and assassins, the inner ring that protected Lord Rahl. And in that knowledge was the very well earned fear.

Night had fallen thickly over the city, and the cold of the receding winter dared not touch them as they walked, Cara and Kahlan in the lead, Rikka and Hally behind. Kahlan’s eyes moved over the street, seeing the smallest movement, assessing it, before her eyes moved on. Just from the simple changes in Cara’s body, she knew which way to move, when to go right or left.

None of them spoke, because they did not need to.

A light wind picked up, moving over the tops of the trees on Kings Row, sending them into a slow dance, to the tempo set by the mournful song as the wind forced itself through the narrow alleys and dark corners of Aydindril. It made the hair on her body stand to attention, even under the leather, lending it’s warning, and Kahlan could feel it in her blood.

That feeling again that something was terribly wrong. That something she should be able to see, or understand, but it was just beyond her reach.

Her gloved fingers clenched around the handle of her Agiel, and the wind’s song became louder in her ears, harmonizing with the high pitched whine of pain.

“We feel it too.” Cara said gently beside her.

“What is it?”

Cara shook her head, not knowing.

Under the low hanging clouds the city seemed to glow; unshed water above them reflecting every nuance of light. As it was still early evening, there were citizens moving about; a peddler pushing his wares on a two wheeled cart. A group of soldiers laughing as they stood before the Jara palace gates. Though their voices hushed at the approach of the four women. Their naturally dark eyes positively overflowed with distain.

Kahlan stopped walking for a moment, and the others looked at her. It dawned on her; that her mind was disjointed. From the moment in the bath things had gotten shorter. It was a symphony of shortened moments. It was as though she could not think in wide sweeping strokes. Not like she normally could.

“Something is different.” Her gloved hand went to the side of her head, and she could feel the skin inside the glove as though it was super sensitive, as if through the leather she could feel each strand of hair on her head. She lifted her eyes to Cara, searching her face. “Why? Why can I not seem to catch my breath? Or a thought?”

“Kahlan. Just be. Be Mord–Sith. There is nothing else in the world on this night.”

Narrowing her eyes she looked at Rikka. “The oils… something in the oils.”

“Listen to Cara. Just follow the lead of your instincts.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to think, to rationalize what it was she was feeling, and suddenly her lids fluttered at feeling the warm touch of Cara’s breath on her cheek. “Don’t think, just feel. You mind is intact, but your body, and your blood? They will guide you.”

“Okay… I. I trust you.” Kahlan said and meant, as her eyes opened, looking into Cara’s blue green intensity.

“Trust yourself.” Cara smiled.

The three of them began walking away, and Kahlan lifted her shoulders, and her chin, her eyes looking up into the sheltered sky. No thoughts then. Just be. Instinct. She nodded to herself and followed with confident steps behind the others.

At the gates of the Mardovia Palace, with its red stone work, Kahlan was astonished as she watched Rikka and Cara push the iron bars open and walk inside. A protest was on the tip of her tongue, yet Cara looked over her shoulder at her, and even in the dark she could see the command in her eyes. The command was for Kahlan to watch and observe silently. Two gate guards stepped forward, but seeing who it was who had just stepped into the small courtyard, they took rushed steps backward.

Kahlan knew that Mord–Sith invoked concern in people, but this was more than that. This was fear, fear that had its teeth in these men from personal experience.

Cara took them around the back of the Mardovian Palace, and shouldered through a small wooden door in the back, from the scents that exploded around them, Kahlan knew it was the servants’ entrance to the kitchen. Kitchens never ceased in their activities, not even in the evenings.

“Demon women!” A young maid cursed, before fleeing deeper into the room, and hiding behind a large older woman, who looked up from the table where she was kneading bread. Her eyes rounded.

“You can’t be here!” She exclaimed.

Kahlan’s eyes noticed that every member of the kitchen staff had stopped what they were doing and were literally cowering. One of the younger boys who had been chopping vegetables set the point of his knife in the scared shopping block, his youthful eyes weary.

“By decree of the Mother Confessor, Mord–Sith are her eyes and ears.” Rikka said in a tone that demanded all of these people fall in line, and left no room for argument. Rikka was as adapt at that tone as Cara. “In that respect, we have come to see you and hear your grievances.”

The kitchen mistress lifted up her dirty apron, and began wiping off the flour from her aged hands, “We be but lowly servants, what have we to tell?”

“Much more than anyone else in this house.” Cara prodded as she crossed her arms.

“That be true.” The woman smiled nodding.

“The Mother Confessor knows it is. She trusts in her people, all of them. They understand justice, and that they would see her have all the information she requires to be just.”

The woman seemed to be considering things for a minute. When Kahlan was sure someone would speak, no one did, and the woman continued to stare at them. When she nodded, Kahlan sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders, the tension that had been building into impatience which would have lead her to physically make the woman speak. Her gray head bobbed up and down, her short chin length hair moving. “Why you all standing around? Get back to work.” She ordered the rest of the staff, who seemed to jump to attention. And like a snap of fingers the stalemate was broken, and the noise of the active kitchen resumed.

Still clutching her apron she walked around the table, coming closer to the four of them, her eyes taking measure of each. Her eyes lingered longest on Kahlan, as if she knew her. But Kahlan was not concerned, instead she glared back.

The old woman sucked on her teeth for a moment, before asking, “The Mother, she knows of the meetings?”

Cara replied immediately. “She does.”

Kahlan had no idea what they were speaking of, but gave no outward indication.

“She does nothing to stop them, eh?”

“Why stop them?” Cara sneered.

“The houses of Tamarang, Mardovia, and Nicobarese all seem to be conspiring, wanting rule for themselves, one would think the Mother would put a stop to such thinking.”

“Explain.” Kahlan ordered.

The older woman eyed her suspiciously for a moment. “With no living confessors, save her, there is much talk of how the end of her rule is at hand, and how those larger kingdoms can rally together and divide the Midlands among themselves.”

“How do you feel about that?” Kahlan asked, noticing Cara’s hard glare, warning her to be cautious.

“I’m a simple cook, what does it matter what I feel?”

“While there is but one king, there are a hundred servants. Your strength is in numbers. If you all decided to no longer do the wash, cook their food? How long would these great and noble kings last?”

“Not a full day.” The woman beamed with a smile of crooked teeth.

Kahlan returned it, glad that the woman understood. “Think about that the next time they look down on you, or that you look up to them. Respect them when they are benevolent and are compassionate towards you and your health. When they are just and provide you with the safety to live. But do not for a moment think you are forced to live under their thumb. Oppression is not valid in this land.”

“So the whores of the Mother Confessor are as wise as they are beautiful.”

Kahlan bristled slightly, but allowed the slander to pass.

* * * * *

Cara had been very aware of Kahlan as she spoke to the cook, hearing the hard tone of Kahlan, with the cold expression on her face. While there were hints of the Mother Confessor in her eyes, for the most part she was not exhibiting any of the ethereal qualities she normally displayed when speaking to a subject. It made Cara appreciate how similar the two were; the Mord–Sith and the Confessor.

The subtle differences were there as well. The Mother Confessor’s demeanor, though cold was rooted in detachment. The Mord–Sith’s frozen expression was just that, bitter and icy. At the moment Kahlan seemed to be yielding to both sides, and they were working in harmony. But over the months Cara knew that the two aspects of her mate were becoming more and more incompatible, and that one or the other needed to assert its dominance. That would be the only way. One would have to rule to other. This night would test the strength of both, and one would come out on the other side, the victor.

“Do you normally barge into the palaces?” Kahlan asked her ask they left the small and humid kitchen.

“I do, from time to time.” Cara revealed. “Rikka is much better at surprising them though.”

“Let’s not do that any longer.”

“Why?” Cara asked, looking at her.

“I want any conspirators lulled into a sense of complacency. Then they will make mistakes. Then I will make examples of them all.” Kahlan’s lip turned up at the corner in an angry bend. It was not a request, it was an order. One that Cara and the others felt compelled to obey.

Part 5

“Another?” A man’s voice hollered from inside a small room in a boarding house, drifting down to the street to be caught by her ear. “Woman! Why do you keep ending up with child? Why can’t you be more like the Mother Confessor?”

The words stung, and Kahlan glared up to the third story window, to the shadow of the man there.

“It has been a long time since I heard an entire city clamoring for royal offspring.” Rikka snarked as they walked.

“Well, Aydindril is a special place in that regard.” Hally offered.

“Perhaps we will be looked upon favorably by the Spirits.”

“What do you mean?” Kahlan snapped.

“The right stock of man may cross our path, and we can once and for all put this buzzing gnat of gossip to rest.” Cara said, her voice low.

Kahlan grabbed her arm. “When will you get it through your stubborn head? I do not want an example of proper breeding stock. I do not want a man to touch me.” Her eyes burned with rage, and she knew it. “If I decide to not.”

“We have discussed this. That is not an option.” She looked down at Kahlan’s hand on her arm. “The voices in your head tell you the truth, whether you want to listen or not.”

“Oh? Do they?” Kahlan growled.

Cara pulled her arm away. “Yes.”

“Fine! Then what about him!” She glared pointing to a man who was making his way down the lane towards them.

“Does it matter? In the end?” Cara replied her tone defeated. A glass bottle shattered beside Cara’s feet, splashing them both with what smelt like a bitter back room fermented alcohol.

“Whores of the desert, go home!” A man’s voice growled, as he and four others approached them from behind.

Kahlan watched as slowly a smile emerged on Cara’s face. It was not a smile of pleasure. It was a smile of expectant need.

“Mm. About time.” Cara said in a seductive tone.

“Perhaps you boys should move along?” Hally asked, though her smile was clearly asking them to not heed her words.

“HA! We are not swayed by the likes of you.” A man with short cropped dark hair snapped. He had a look about him. A man who knew about violence. Kahlan wondered if he was, like the large man who had been walking towards them and now was close enough for her to see that he only possessed one eye, a D’Haran soldier. D’Harans were not supposed to be walking the streets of Aydindril. At least, they were not in their uniforms.

“Little boys playing as men.” Rikka teased.

“Better than whores playing as men.” The scarred man said as he raised his finger and pointed at Cara. Kahlan recognized him, how could she not. “I told you I would remember you.”

“You always will. I will make sure of it.” Cara said, in a growl which was low and menacing.

Kahlan’s sharpened senses alerted her to the fact that there were five men behind her, plus the two standing in front.

“You don’t belong here.” A voice hissed behind Kahlan, but she didn’t bother to turn, instead her eyes were locked on the dark haired man who was stomping closer to Cara.

“Where’s your Mistress’ white skirts? Don’t you like to hide under them?”

“More than you know.” Cara smirked.

He growled, “You dishonor all of D’Hara.” He swung his big fist forward, towards the side of Cara’s head. There was extreme power behind the swing. But Cara didn’t even bother to take her eyes off of the giant one eyed man in front of her, instead she caught the other man’s fist, yanked hard, and spun down, twisting around with his arm. Cara sprung back up, lifting the arm over her head, and the sickening pop that filled the street seemed to echo endlessly before his cry burst from his lips. Not that his cry lasted long. Cara’s elbow landed on his mouth, shattering teeth and dropped him to the ground.

“We like to think we are the shinning jewels of D’Hara.” She said to the one eyed man, who nodded absently at her, as if showing her a modicum of respect.

“There are rumors that breaking a Mord–Sith, her flailing under you, is one of the most exquisite rides a man will ever take.” He pulled a small knife from the back of his belt. “Having ridden one of your sisters, I can attest to the truth in that rumor. Let’s see if it holds true still? You can hide all you want, but I know you are the personal whore to that false woman. I’ll have you, preferably bleeding, and then when I see what white washed whore, I’ll do the same to her.”

Cara laughed softly. “That’s the Queen you are talking about.”

“A woman is a woman.”

“True.” Cara agreed.

Kahlan strode forward, determination filling her, and as another of the men rushed her, head dropping like a hornless bull, Kahlan slid to the side, her arm went around his neck, which she grabbed and used his own momentum to flip him over. He landed on the hard packed earth of the street with a groan, and her steps did not falter. Kahlan had a target. The scarred man was hers. Nothing would stop her.

She sidestepped, the flat of her palm connecting with another man’s face, shattering his nose, blood spraying from under her hand.

And with blood in the air, the men seemed to be renewed, pulling hidden knives and rushing at the Mord–Sith.

Dust rose from the street, becoming a mist that made every movement of red leather muted, as though they were nightmare demons, lashing out at these men as if they were mere specters sent directly from the Underworld.

The men had sealed their own fate, attacking them with the intent to maim or worse.

Kahlan could feel the tempest churning low in her blood, sweetening her breath, as she swung around, the heel of her boot connecting with the soft doughy center of a man.

The only cries were from these men, suddenly realizing that they had made a grievous error. Around her the shriek of Agiels pulsed in the night, bringing it to life in superb clarity.

A punch landed on her jaw, but not the full strength of it. She had turned and sneered at the man who took a shocked step back. He had expected her to fall from a blow with that much strength behind it.

Her skin tingled, and she swung her head to the side, to see Cara standing beside her suddenly, her voice almost a whisper as she reminded, “Don’t think, just feel. Allow your body to do what it knows.”

With a nod, Kahlan’s arm flung out, her knuckles connecting with the jaw of another man who had rushed towards her. His neck bent away with the impact. Running her tongue over her bottom lip as she opened her self up to the night around her, the pain from the Agiel in her fist sending impulses through muscles, and Kahlan did just as Cara said. She stopped thinking, and just let her body be.

Dropping to a crouch her hands, one palm open, the other turned so that the Agiel pressed into the rushing man’s gut, she used the strength of her arms, and pushed. His feet left the ground as he gasped, spraying blood from parted lips on her. Kahlan rose, towering over him as his arms wrapped around his shattered midsection.

“Is this how you wanted to play?” Her fingers gripped his hair, and she brought his face down against her knee with the happy crack of his breaking face. He fell to a moaning heap, as she heard a yelp, and spun around.

The massive man at the center of the storm had Hally by her braid, her feet off the ground. With his arms being so massive Hally couldn’t reach him with her Agiel, but was trying. His cracked lips parted with a laugh, and his one eye twinkled as he twisted her head with a sickening crack, before tossing her lifeless body into the dust cloud.

Kahlan came undone, and rushed him. In an instant her fingers were around his throat, her eyes stabbing him with intensity. She smiled as he dropped to his knees and looked up at her with his one gray eye wide.

“Lord… Lord Rahl?” He whispered in amazed shock.

“What is your name?” She asked.

“Orsk. Please, Lord Rahl, I.”

“Kahlan.” She corrected before she pulled back her barriers and slammed all of her power into him. The air around her trembled, and sucked all sound. She watched as his eye turned completely black. Her fingers tightened around his thick neck, digging into him as sound returned, and she heard a female groan beside her.

“Command me Mistress.” He begged. For his trouble she backhanded him, before Kahlan turned her head sharply. Rikka was on her knees inches away, her face shockingly pale.

“What’s wrong?” Kahlan asked annoyed.

“I was… too close when you.” Rikka huffed, before shaking her head. “I’m fine.” She corrected. Rikka jumped to her feet and rushed to Hally. Kahlan watched as Rikka breathed life back into Hally, who sputtered for a moment, before her eyes narrowed.

“Where is that bastard?” She clawed at the dirt, standing.

Kahlan spun around, just in time to watch as Cara slammed her Agiel into the chest of a man, and as he buckled to the ground she twisted, ending him. A hush settled on the night around them. But just for two beats of her rushing heart. She felt them around her before they announced themselves.

Steel being freed reverberated in the dimness of the night. “Orsk! Protect me!” Kahlan commanded, as hands grabbed at her, pulling her farther into the shadows.

For an instant seeing all the red around her Kahlan was sure they had been set upon by D’Harans, and the fear of them feeling the bond to their Lord Rahl crept into her mind, until the sparkling flicker of polished steel identified these men.

“Blood of the Fold.” Kahlan cursed.

“Keeper’s minion! Your blood will stain the streets this night!” A rally cried filled the void left by the drunken men that they had already incapacitated.

Hands held her arms, and a fist slammed into her ribs, but the protection of the leather and her years of training made the blow hard, yet glancing. Not at all what they had intended. She arched her wrist of the hand still holding tight and the tip of the Agiel burned a hole into the one of the hands holding her. With a scream he let go, and Kahlan instinctively slammed her fist into the ear of the other man holding her. She envisioned the Agiel becoming long and thin as she pressed it to the fleshy folds of his ear, and imagined it like a knitting needle piercing his brain. Then she twisted.

His nails scrapped across her leather arm as he fell to the ground, dead.

A snarl pulled from her lips, and spit flew as she landed a spinning kick against whoever was behind her. He flew through the air, slamming into a store window, glass shattering around him. Her eyes searched through the gloom, her nostrils flaring until she picked up Cara’s scent.

She was under the pile of men.

Orsk was at Kahlan’s side suddenly, blood dripping into his one good eye from a cut on his head.

“Get them off of her! NOW!” She ordered, pointing.

The giant D’Haran needed no further direction and was off running.

Kahlan ducked, knowing somehow that a blade was moving towards her. Letting her Agiel dangle from her wrist, she pulled the dagger from her belt, and slammed it deep into the groin of the man beside her. As she pulled it free, a torrent of blood erupted, and he fell, crying out.

She marched away, he would die soon enough. Her focus was on the men being tossed away, as Orsk made his way through the men like they were children.

Once she saw Cara’s face, pristine and unharmed, her eyes wild, and her smile fierce as she nodded, Kahlan sliced the throat of the nearest man.

“Kill them all.” She said to Orsk, and he smiled.

Kahlan spun her dagger on her palm, her fingers gripped with Agiel in her other hand and she smiled as well. She wanted more.

* * * * *

“Do you see? Do you understand?” Cara asked gently as she closed the door to the red room.

Candles had been lit around the room in their absence, and as Cara walked around Kahlan, she could see the dullness on her leather, from where the blood had dried. She looked at Kahlan’s pale skin, drops of blood vying for attention against the freckles normally on her skin. But other than the dried blood there was not a mark on her. They had fought off the seven drunkards, and then twelve of the hapless Blood of the Fold fools, who all were now in the Underworld, their bodies merely a pile, burning in the city square.

Kahlan’s fingers rested on her Agiel, absently, focusing her.

Cara watched her pupils dilate.

The battle had been bloody and invigorating.

Now it was time to shut out the world and realize the other aspect of the Mord–Sith. If she was ready.

Kahlan nodded as her response to Cara’s question.

“Mord–Sith Kahlan. You spilt blood. Do you have remorse?”

“No. It was kill or be killed. It was primal and it was just.”

Cara moved around her, “Primal.” She echoed, before she came to stand before Kahlan, her eyes hidden in shadow. Slowly, with intent, she pulled the Agiel free, and rolled it in her fingers.

Kahlan’s lips parted slightly, her tongue peeked out, wet and ready, her nostrils flared as she too pulled in an intense lungful of air.

She was ready.

* * * * *

Cara’s knuckles found her chin and Kahlan spun with the impact, before turning back around to taunt her, the movement to pull her Agiel second nature as it was for her to pull her daggers. The pain of it in her hand was a comforting fuel to the icy fire in her bones, and she lunged forward. Cara’s forearm knocked her attempt away, as Kahlan knew it would. Her fingers release the Agiel, which continued to hang from the chain around her wrist, and with both hands she grabbed Cara’s arm. Her blue green eyes widened in surprise, as Kahlan used her strength and momentum and tossed Cara across the room.

Cara landed on a small table with a satisfying snap, as it shattered like twigs underneath her. In an instant Kahlan was there, looking down as her leg connected with Cara’s side.

She was not fighting back, not like she could. Knowing that, and feeling it like the sting of the insult it was, enraged Kahlan more. Her strikes were not pulled. She put the weight of her strength behind them. She kicked again, and then again.

That was enough to get Cara’s attention, and she rolled away, before springing back to her feet, and charging at Kahlan with a snarl of lust fueled rage. Easily Kahlan’s closed fist connected with her cheek bone. Triumphant joy spread across her face. Cara spun around with the force of the punch, she gave Kahlan her back.

That was her mistake.

Kahlan kicked her squarely on the spine, sending her sprawling onto the bed. Taking two steps she set the Agiel to screaming against Cara’s neck.

The blonde howled with frustrated rage, pinned and in pain.

“Strip.” Kahlan growled, and Cara looked over her shoulder at her, eyes on fire with indignation.

* * * * *

She followed the command, using every ounce of her Mord–Sith willpower to do so, and to keep her hands from shaking as she pulled the hidden piece of leather along her side that eased all of the ties up her right side. As Cara pulled the leather from her body, and dropped it like a second skin, she bit back the urge to continue fighting, to lash out at Kahlan. She had pulled every punch, she had allowed this.

She would continue to allow it.

All of it that was to come.

Because she loved her.

Naked, exposed under the sharp blue eyes, she wanted to look away, the pressure of the gaze almost too much to see on the face of the woman she loved. But she knew looking away would not be taken well. Instead she clenched her firsts at her sides, lifted her chin proudly.

Kahlan’s leather sighed as she walked around Cara, and the sound of the golden chain around her wrist heralded in to Cara’s mind all the things that were to come.

“The thoughts that fill my head when I touch you.” A gloved hand ran down from Cara’s neck, over her breasts to her stomach. “When I taste you.” Cara trembled as Kahlan’s tongue ran over her shoulder, and she gnawed the inside of her mouth to silence her moan. “Are they me, or are they what I have become.”

“You are as you always were Kahlan.” Cara’s voice was cut off by her moan, as two strong hands cupped her breasts with demanding power. “You are a woman first.” Cara tried to finish, as the hands moved over her body, over her ribs, hips, to grasp her backside, fingers digging into her flesh.

Kahlan sighed. “I want.”

“Tell me what you want.” Cara urged, knowing Kahlan was still fighting what she truly wanted.

“I want to break you.” She looked at Cara, her eyes a mixture of longing and fear. “Is that horrible of me? To love you as I do, and still?”

“Kahlan. It is who you are, what you are. These feelings have been inside of you. The hate you now posses as well as the pain merely allow you to accept it.”

Her shoulders eased slightly, and she bent closer to Cara, her hands moving up her back, before her lips pressed against her throat, followed quickly by her teeth, nipping hard. Cara swallowed her gasp.

“Do you want to break me? Do you want to bond me to you?”

“Yes. You already know the worst I am capable of. I… I don’t know if I want you to see this side of me first hand.”

“The darkness is as much a part of you as your light.” Cara glared at her. “You told me that once. And I believed you. When you told me you loved both sides of me equally. Do not doubt that I too, feel the same.”

“Would I hurt you?”

“Doubtful.”

“Would you want me to?” Kahlan whispered.

That was what Cara had been waiting for. The edge to push Kahlan over. With permission she did so, passionately kissing Kahlan, eliciting the depth of the kiss before she submitted to Kahlan’s tongue, and the press of her lips. She willed her body to relent and to comply, and as if feeling it Kahlan’s dominance surged forth, filling the void.

A hand grabbed the long blonde braid on her back and pulled, hard. Her neck bent and became exposed. Her mouth hissed through the pain as the pins and ointments used to keep the fake hair in place splintered and pulled. Her head snapped up, leaving the blonde braid in Kahlan’s fist. She threw it away, her fingers digging into Cara’s chin as she kissed her again.

This time the kiss tasted of hate; bitter and true. Hate for a thousand things, but none of them actually hate for Cara. She knew that. She would always know that, no matter the outcome of this night.

She surrendered to Kahlan’s power, and went limp in her arms, sliding against her leathers, her cheek scratched as it moved over the buckles on Kahlan’s corset. Her knees hit the floor and she pressed her face against burning red thighs.

“Break me.” She sighed, her mouth pressing to the leather, forcing herself to give in. Knowing that Kahlan was feeling the affects of the mind altering oils still, knowing she was still filled with the blood lust from the battle, and knowing her as she did, Cara knew that her kneeling and giving up so easily would only make Kahlan angry. Would only throw more fuel on the fire.

Cara relied on that.

She was not disappointed as the knee met her chin, her teeth cutting through her lip as she fell back against the soft red velvet of the bed.

Kahlan dropped to a squat before her, the back of her hand marking Cara’s face as she swung. Cara’s eyes filled with tears of unreleased anger.

“More.” She hissed, blood splattering across Kahlan’s cheek from her lips.

Fear nipped at her heart as Kahlan’s eyes darkened and while expecting another blow from her hand, instead lips were on hers, painfully demanding. Kahlan’s teeth pulled at her bleeding lip, sending strong bolts of pain through her body. But it was pain the color of white heat, burning down into the center of her core. Shamelessly Cara wanted more.

Wrenching away, Kahlan stared at her. Her chest was heaving with the increase of desire flowing through the both of them. Her tongue danced over her lip, tasting Cara’s blood, and her eyes flashed dark again.

“I thought you were trying to break me?” Cara panted.

“No. Yes.” Kahlan bit her own lip, hard. “Does it matter?”

“It always matters.”

“Then I shall.” Her eyes burned. “Stand on the bed.”

Cara’s muscles twitched, eager to fulfill her command. She did so immediately, and her eyes moistened as she watched Kahlan walk with stiff legs to the window.

* * * * *

Using her dagger she slashed the long red fabric surrounding the window, and pulled. With the long line of material in her hand she marched onto the bed and up to Cara and tied it securely around her right wrist, before tossing it over the wooden canopy above the bed, and then roughly tied the other end, stretching Cara’s arms over her head, the strain of her muscles looking beautiful under her sweat slicked skin.

Cara’s eyes were interested in what she was going to do next, searching her face, watching her arms as they moved. It was only when Kahlan lifted the arm holding the Agiel did her full lips open with breathless anticipation.

Nervous tension filled Kahlan’s body. Just like the wet tongues of firelight that licked across Cara’s white neck, the flames of desire burned beneath her leather. The demon inside of her howled approvingly at the sight of Cara’s slightly swaying body, there for her taking.

She moved around her, watching the lines of muscles in Cara’s back twitch with expectation. The strength of Cara’s body restrained by her command, elicited the secret emotions inside of Kahlan. She forgot hesitation, she forgot fear. Pain. Rage. They ruled in this place.

Her eyes burned heavy into Kahlan’s confidence, causing the swelling of her anger. Reducing the ocean of mystery and suggestion to a trickling stream, Kahlan answered the unspoken question.

“This is my own choosing.”

Cara’s eyes closed slowly with appreciation.

The anchor of power was exchanged, willingly.

Without tenderness the Agiel lashed across Cara’s back, causing her to arch away. Kahlan dragged the weapon across the back of her thighs, leaving red welts in its wake. The wood supporting Cara groaned as her legs no longer held her up. Her body trembled, and the edge was fast approaching as Kahlan beat the Agiel across her back again.

* * * * *

The back of her hand collided with her cheek, the force of it causing her head to slap against her own arm, and her eyes showed Cara dancing pinpricks of light.

But she has not a moment to follow them, as pain ripped through her with the same force as the growl from Kahlan’s open mouth as she slammed the point of the Agiel into her side, causing Cara’s arms to contract, attempting to lift her away from the pain.

Inside her mind, Cara heard her own voice screaming at her to fight. Fight. Over and over again she screamed at herself to fight.

The jolt of pain reached deep into her again, and her eyes flew open once more, though her vision is no longer clear. It was blurred with her tears, and through the haziness she tried to focus on Kahlan’s eyes; the endless darkness, the thin ring of blue, and the blood soaked whites of her eyes. Kahlan’s cheeks were flushed, her breathing ragged. She was on the edge, and still trying to keep herself in control. Still holding back.

Her hand reached for Cara’s cheek, and she flinched away this time, but it was no use. Kahlan’s palm rested on her cheek.

That tender touch broke Cara in ways she never imagined possible.

* * * * *

There was a tearing inside of her. Living suddenly hurt. Being in this moment hurt. And in the pallid silence, the firm and determined set of Cara’s lips, she wanted to telegraph that hurt.

The echoes of her heavy breathing rang up and down the walls. As she willingly placed the pain on Cara’s skin again she knew her own cheeks were burning crimson, obliterating the lily white calm.

There was no one thing that she could hold fast to. Not one thought in her mind that was urging her fists, fueling the power in her strikes with the Agiel. Perhaps if there were thoughts, something as honestly hateful as what Cara had done to her sister, or what the Mord–Sith had done to countless others in the name of her Lord then Kahlan could comprehend the rage in her. But there was not one thing. There was not one tangible reason why she struck the flesh before her, it was not for her own vengeance, it was not for self gain.

She did it because she did.

Kahlan the woman was not in the room. There was Kahlan the Mord–Sith, and she demanded perfection in pain. She extracted the symphony of cries. She wrung the body before her of tears and blood. And Mord–Sith Kahlan broke Cara to watch her break, to see and smell and feel her body crumble and be reborn.

From the ashes of pain Cara’s moans became richer, thicker. Laced with the swollen need of pleasure. No shame, no indignity. Just raw and exposed need. And Mord–Sith Kahlan’s strikes lingered longer on damaged skin, the leather of her fingertips found and pulled the skin on Cara’s breasts. The pain was thicker now, wet. It lived and breathed in this red room.

Pain deafened her ears, hurt darkened her eyes, and reason had no place in the destruction that glowed brightly in the form of the eyes looking at her.

She was too close to the flame of rage, Cara’s body swayed before her, her eyelids drawn down, eyes moving rapidly beneath them. Her lips were moving, almost twitching. Kahlan leaned closer, turning her head to put her ear to her bleeding lips, listening to the strained sound of Cara’s voice.

“Stay, stay with me, stay with me”

Her bones rattled with the implication, and still being on the edge of darkness and frenzy, as close to the blood rage as she had ever been before, she pulled the Agiel down the length of Cara’s back, her gasp devastatingly arousing.

The edge came and she felt her soul drop down the unending chasm, and Kahlan’s howl shook the room, Cara whimpered, and her Agiel began it’s devastating flurry of blows, some glancing, others lengthy as it slid over sweat soaked skin, which turned the light shade of pink as blood flourished in the Agiel’s wake. Kahlan could smell the terror and the pain, and pulled it inside of her, felt it coating her own skin beneath the ever tightening leather, and her mind changed, urged her on.

To hurt, to break, to see the blush of agony on Cara’s skin, to push her to a moment where nothing in the world mattered for her that is not the punishment, where she would plea and beg with every ounce of her being for Kahlan to continue, to keep up the rapid assault of the Agiel. Blood Lust, the mate to the Blood Rage that lived inside of her rolled across her lips, and pulled them into a hungry sneer.

* * * * *

“Please.” Cara whispered, tears streaming down her face.

“Please what?” Kahlan asked.

“pppppllleeeeaaaase.” She could hardly form words, her body twisting and shuddering, on the brink of ecstasy colored deep red and edged with destruction. A precipice she never thought she would be on again. No one had taken her to this place, not even Triana who had tried many times. This was a place that haunted her, tormented her and alluded Cara. She never wanted to be here, and desired it every time she would feel the bite of teeth on her flesh; hear the crack of a whip.

“Please what?” Kahlan’s fingers grabbed her chin and her face was wrenched to the side.

Cara looked into her eyes, and gasped. Her eyes were the coldest black surrounded by a sea of blood.

* * * * *

The sound of Cara’s intake of breath had the same affect on her as if an Agiel had been placed directly against her throbbing center, and Kahlan narrowed her eyes with the determination not to crumble. Keeping one hand on Cara’s chin and looking deep inside of her, seeing that she was about to shatter, Kahlan pressed her nails into Cara’s thigh, and pulled upwards, leaving a trail of hateful lines, as Cara’s entire body pulled tight. One more touch and she would be done in.

Kahlan obliged her.

The tone of Cara’s scream as the Agiel touched her back knocked the sense from Kahlan’s mind. All she heard was that scream, all she felt was the ecstasy of Cara’s climax. The bittersweet taste of it on her breath.

* * * * *

“Who am I?”

“Mistress Kahlan.”

“What am I?”

“My pain. My life. My Mistress.” Cara sobbed. “My life is yours, my rage and hate yours to command.”

“As long as we both shall live.” Kahlan affirmed.

“Yes Mistress.”

* * * * *

Trust. She could taste it as she leaned close to Cara’s back and ran her tongue along her quaking muscles, savoring the sweat and blood. Licking her wounds, she dropped the Agiel to the bed, because pain’s place was gone, and in its place the suffering of desire charged forward.

With her suspended as she was, Kahlan kneeled in front of her, lifting her legs and setting them on her shoulders. Cara groaned above her, and Kahlan echoed the needy sound as her eyes explored Cara’s open sex presented before her eyes. Glistening wetness coated the engorged flesh, and had dripped down her thighs. It was exquisite torture, Kahlan so close the scent of Cara, and it filled her senses. The rage was gone. The hate was gone. Now she wanted to possess Cara in a completely different way. Her now naked hands grasped her backside, and she pulled Cara to her starving mouth.

Cara’s body shook, the wood of the bed protested, as she tried to pull herself away from Kahlan using her arms. But her fingers dug into thick muscle, and her teeth scrapped along the sides of the hard nub. Kahlan released her teeth, but plunged her tongue deep inside, curling it and pulling as much of the intoxicating release from Cara as she could. The taste of her arousal smothered her tongue and lips, as did the cold tang of blood. As she feasted on her sex, Cara swayed slightly, and the sounds birthed from her throat are colored with the pleasure and the pain from the pressure on her wrists, and her shoulders. Her weight suddenly relaxed fully onto Kahlan’s own shoulders, and she happily supported Cara’s weight, knowing her mate is so close to breaking again, but this time in an entirely different way.

Her body began to shudder violently, just before, with a sigh, Cara reached her release under the continued pressure of Kahlan’s mouth. Regrettably, after drinking her fill, Kahlan released her hold on Cara, and slowly stood, her body pressed tightly to the exhausted blonde. Kahlan found her lips, and kissed her fiercely, feeling them move with her, reciprocating, if only much weaker than before.

“I love you Cara.” She said before pressing their lips together again. Kahlan whimpered gently as she felt Cara’s tongue tentatively brush against her own.

Kahlan reached up, and pulled the knot free on Cara’s wrist. Her arms, no longer held, fell hard over Kahlan’s shoulders. “I love you.” She repeated, setting a kiss on Cara’s cheek, before helping her down to sit on the bed.

The whence of pain on Cara’s face did not go unnoticed as she stepped off the bed, and quickly, following the tricks she now knew, stripped out of the red leather. Needy now, hungry to know even more, but still unable to fully think of any one thing, Kahlan crawled across the bed, her voice and eyes pleading. “I…I want you to break me.”

“I cannot.” Cara admitted in a voice that was utterly raw.

“Why?” Kahlan asked, not understanding. She thought they would be doing this together. To one another.

“Because, if I make the slightest mistake in doing so, I could sever the bond between you and Drefan, or worse… I could take in me the power of the confessor…and…and die.”

“So… what I did to you?”

Cara’s eyes looked at her sorrowfully, “I can never do to you.”

Kahlan’s hand went to her mouth. “Cara?” slowly, in the pit of her stomach something rolled.

“Don’t.” Cara started, but stopped, swallowing, her face pained.

“Shhh.” Kahlan whispered, trying to gently put her arms around Cara, as they lay back on the bed. Her skin was warm, the deep warmth one gets from laying in heated water. The feel of her and the scent of her were intoxicating to Kahlan, and soothed the fatigue that was suddenly so very heavy in her body.

* * * * *

The sheets were coarse against her skin, stiff with dried blood, spit, sweat, tears and release. It covered everything, including her own skin. Kahlan sat up, feeling the scratches on her flesh, reminders of pleading hands; Cara’s pleading hands.

She looked about the room frantically. Broken furniture, torn fabric. Her blood leathers on the floor beside the empty bed. But no Cara. No sign of her. Kahlan rose from the bed, and noticed a bright white shift hanging over the back of a chair. She pulled it roughly over her head, as she continued walking toward the door. She noticed the splintered wood around the lock, and was surprised. She had heard nothing last night. She had passed into the blissful sleep of the unrepentant. Only to awaken to her own personal torment.

Kahlan turned sharply, vomiting on the floor as she remembered with vivid clarity what she had done. Running the back of her hand over her mouth she threw open the door, and stood face to face with Rikka.

“Where is she?”

Rikka did not even blink.

“Where is Cara?”

Kahlan knew, could feel the anger, not the Mord–Sith, oh no, she was tempered and quiet. Silently resting. This anger was all Mother Confessor. Her hand reached for Rikka, who masterfully knocked her arm away.

“Is she?” Kahlan’s voice crackled with emotion.

“Mother Confessor, you would be advised to return to your rooms. Mistress Cara will come to you, eventually.”

“Eventually?” The blood drained from her face.

“Yes. Eventually.” Rikka said with the clear indication that there would be no more discussion.

* * * * *

“Let me go to her!” Cara demanded in a hoarse voice. Rikka’s hands were like iron shackles on her wrists, holding her down on the small bed.

“This is how it must be.”

“No! Not like this, she will be beside herself, thinking the worst.”

“Cara! You know you cannot go to her.” Rikka reminded her. “Not yet.”

She sighed, feeling emotion trying to get the better of her. “She’ll be hating herself.” Her eyes looked to Hally, pleading, but the blonde turned away.

“Better that than still being caught up in the lust of it all. She needs to come down, on her own. You know that as well as any of us.”

“Just think back, Mistress. Remember how easy it was for you to slip back into the role? DO you want that for her?” Hally said sadly.

She was right. If Kahlan saw her now, so soon after, then the Mord–Sith would surge forth again. It was better, to lay here in torment, to know Kahlan was alone, blaming herself and worrying, than for the Mord–Sith and her Blood Lust to take over again completely.

“I will wait until it passes. But not for one second more.” Cara professed.

* * * * *

Kahlan pulled the cord beside her bed twice, before crossing her arms over her chest, fighting off the burning chill in her bones. Her hair hung, filthy around her face, and she only slightly looked up, through the dark strings as the two maid servants rushed into the room to bow before her.

“The red room.”

“Yes, Mother Confessor?”

“Strip it bare. I want the bed thrown into the courtyard and burned. I want every meter of fabric burned. That room will be stripped to stone, and then the door locked. Is that understood?”

“As you command, Mother Confessor.”

“Bring me the key when it is done.” Kahlan said softly, before turning away from them.

Their foot falls struck the floor coldly as they ran from the room, punctuating the loathing she felt.

Kahlan sat heavily on the edge of her massive bed, her hands on her lap, because she did not want them soiling their bed.

Slowly her eyes closed, and she mumbled to herself. “Now I too am a contradiction wrapped in blood and pain.” In her mind she heard Cara’s scream, but it was tempered by the vision of Cara’s eyes with all their emotional intensity, all their understanding and love. Those eyes were the last vision from the night before, and that was what stayed with Kahlan now. As the Mord–Sith purred contently, as the lust for blood and pain was sated and quiet, Kahlan returned to herself. The Mother Confessor embraced her, and told her the truth. The truth her voice made real. “But a monster I am not.”

Part 6

Standing three stories above the Confessor’s Palace courtyard Kahlan could feel the heat of the flames. As the fire below her roared with indigence, the heat licked across her cheeks, forehead, and its intensity dried the tears on her cheeks almost as soon as they emerged from her eyes. The cloudy sky refused to part, and smoke rolled, white and black beneath the gray, making a living shadow of her white dress, as she watched intently from her balcony. There were witnesses in the courtyard below, guards and servants alike, and she knew that the people of her city, of Aydindril, would be wondering what caused such a spectacle in the early morning. Let them wonder, she thought. This was her personal cleansing; she would never burn the images or actions from the night before from her heart or mind, that wasn’t the point. The point of the fire and the flood of tears was for her to outwardly express the mourning of her own innocence. To at the end of it all, sweep away the ashes of her own reality of yesterday. She was Mord–Sith now, yet Kahlan knew it was more than that. She knew as her hands abused Cara that she had always harbored rage in her blood. Releasing the minuscule amounts of it as she had last night; she had embraced that part of her.

In doing so she felt relief in the release.

Her thumb moved absently over the worn soft leather set over her fingers. The small circle cut, given, and now cherished by Kahlan. The feel of it under her thumb was comforting. As her eyes embraced the scene below, by instinct she lifted her hand to her lips, kissed the leather tenderly, while inhaling the familiar scent of Cara. Even after all these months it still held fast to the scent of its previous owner. Cara who seemed to recognize all of the deeper aspects of Kahlan’s own self, and had truly known Kahlan from the very start. Perhaps because in Kahlan, Cara had recognized herself. Cara who had guided her, held her hand as she walked the cutting edge between what she was and what she could be. Cara, she inwardly sighed her mates name. In her smile, Kahlan felt as though she was good and just, and was capable of anything. She tucked the small piece of leather into her corset, above her heart, and could almost feel it warming her skin, much like the flames from the courtyard below. Kahlan blinked her eyes, urging tears to release their hold on her lashes, and they followed her command, sliding down her cheeks. She did not feel remorse, nor regret at what she had done. She felt love, and sadness, but never regret.

She turned slowly, and walked back through the open glass doors, walking through their bed chamber, and then froze. In the anteroom, there was someone sitting in her chair. A bare leg was resting over the arm of her chair, the bronze skin contrasting impeccably with the blue velvet of the chair. The casual pose of that leg stole her breath away, and her hands pressed against her thundering heart.

As Kahlan bathed herself that morning, rinsing and then scrubbing her skin until it was raw, she did not cry. She had meticulously and emotionlessly washed away the physical evidence of what she had done, and with her now clear mind, realized precisely the lessons Cara and the others had taught her. That while she spent so much energy in thinking, there were times when what she should do was follow her instincts. With that new wisdom, she could recognize the evidence of that philosophy not only in Cara, but other people. Even Richard. They acted. They did not hesitate. Cara had not hesitated, and she had submitted wholly to whatever Kahlan needed to learn that lesson, as well as to allow her to be the Mord–Sith. The two enemies that lived inside of Kahlan’s soul now would have to learn to cohabitate, to adjust and in the end Kahlan knew one of them would become the more dominant. Last night it was the Mord–Sith. This early morning it was the Mother Confessor.

Washing away blood and sweat, Kahlan knew that Cara had been completely selfless in fighting her own nature and allowing Kahlan to have those moments she needed to learn from. All Kahlan wanted, as she stepped from the muddled water of her bath earlier was to see Cara again. But her guards did not know where she was. The servants would not divulge what room she was hiding in. Never had Cara not been where she could find her. This meant she was not supposed to know, that this time was for Kahlan alone. To be alone. To ingest every moment of the night before, and to truly comprehend what it meant.

And now Cara’s leg was casually draped over her chair. She wanted to rush to Cara. Wanted to tell her a hundred things. Kahlan wanted to just see her, and be near her. To be with her. Yet Kahlan’s feet held her in place, rooted in the fear of consequence.

She watched as bare fingers appeared one at a time, like legs of a pale spider, climbing over the back arch of the chair. Then they drummed with a slow impatience, much as they did along Cara’s forearm, when she was waiting for something.

With painfully controlled steps, Kahlan walked through their bed chamber. It took considerable effort to go slowly, but somewhere inside of her she knew that she must. Faintly she could feel the rumble in her soul, that hungry part of her. She swallowed deeply; forcing it down, thinking of Cara’s shining eyes to lock that hunger away. Lightly she moved into the front room, beside the chair, and looked down with a thankful sigh.

Cara was sitting causally in the chair, a warm smile on her lips, her eyes brilliant and clear, her freshly washed hair, dry and brushed out so it shown like silk. Kahlan’s eyes moved across her smile, down her long throat, to her naked collarbone that was visible through the very loosely tied black velvet dressing gown she wore. The curve of her right breast was exposed as well, though the rest of her body was beneath a warm puddle of black fabric. She had never seen Cara like this, dressed, but not, out of her leather, and looking so sensually soft. Her expression was one of peace.

“Rather interesting spectacle outside.” Cara said, her smile widening, as her fingers still drummed on the back of the chair.

“I…I…” Kahlan stammered, still unsure that Cara was really here.

“Little over the top.” Cara said, sitting up in the chair, the gown falling open further, and exposing a wide expanse of warm skin, though it still was cinched at her waist. “But I expect nothing less from you. Just as I expected you to rebound this quickly, regardless of what anyone else may have thought. You, Kahlan Amnell are extraordinary, and powerful.” Cara lifted her arms, hands outstretched, and Kahlan took them with relief. Cara moved her thumbs over her knuckles. “And I love you.”

“Cara.” Her voice throbbed with the wounds her heart felt. Those words were suddenly exactly what she needed. Not spoken in a tone of forgiveness; that would have been wrong. They were spoken in absolute truth. No further explanation was required. Cara loved her. That was all. And that was everything.

Kahlan stepped closer, her hands moved towards Cara’s shoulders, telegraphing Kahlan’s needs, her need to nurture, to heal.

Cara took Kahlan’s hands again. “No.” She held her back, keeping her from embracing her.

“But.”

“No. We… we have to wait.” Cara’s eyes looked to the side quickly, as if she heard something, or was merely steeling her own resolve. “Know I want you too.” Her eyes looked up at Kahlan, searching her eyes for comprehension, and finding it. “I want everything you want. When it is time, you will know.”

“I don’t understand.” Kahlan whispered.

“Yes you do. Part of you does.”

Kahlan nodded, slipping down to her knees, and gazed up at Cara as she sat looking so beautiful and relaxed in the chair.

“The same part that always asks me questions even when you know the answers already.” Cara smiled, her finger tips moving over the top of Kahlan’s hands.

Kahlan put sound to her thoughts. “I can’t touch you for the same reason my Agiel is gone. The same reason why you are not dressed in….”

Cara smiled silently.

“It’s familiar. In a way.” Kahlan said, looking at their joined hands, how strong they were, the both of them, and how fragile at the same time.

“How old were you when you first confessed someone?” Cara asked in a soft voice.

“Four?” Kahlan replied without thinking. “It was a mistake. An accident.” Her eyes were focused on the lines over Cara’s knuckles, as her mind traveled back to her childhood.

“How long after before you felt your power again?”

“A month.”

“Then the next time?”

She looked up slowly. “I was five. And the power was back in a week.” Kahlan nodded. “This is like that. I need this time to regain the power. Or.” She smiled. “In this case I need time to let the power abate. For the Mord–Sith to calm.” Saying the words out loud they made complete sense. Kahlan knew if Rikka or even Cara had tried to explain this to her earlier she would have disregarded it, ignored it. In letting her mull it over, pull a similar experience from her past to the fore of her mind and compare the two, it gave her the wisdom of what this new aspect of herself would be like.

Cara nodded.

“And the time it takes for me to diminish and quiet the Blood Lust will shorten each time.”

A warm smile highlighting Cara’s lips told her she was correct. She responded with her own soft smile. It made sense to her, she knew that now, at her age and with her experience she was only winded once she confessed someone. Her power had evolved with her, and the Mord–Sith inside would do the same, though in the distinctly opposite manner. Kahlan could have understood that if Cara had sat her down and explained it to her. Knowledge would have been easy to gain, wisdom so much harder. Kahlan now had wisdom.

She regarded Cara, the lines of her face, the calm she projected. It was as though in her expression she could read resignation. Not in the negative sense, but in the sense that Cara was fully aware of what Kahlan was, and what she would become. She had a mate who knew her and knew what she was living through. There had been a time when Kahlan would look at Cara and think to herself that the blonde would never understand, could never understand what the burden of being the Mother Confessor was like. She had been horribly wrong in her assumption. Cara had known Kahlan from the beginning. Now with each day she too understood Cara.

Her head tilted to the side slightly, and she felt her hair as it brushed across the back of their hands. “So. Last night, I was drugged?”

“Not specifically drugged. It is more a block of your thoughts, an aid, to get one to feel more than think.”

Kahlan digested that. “And you did not tell me why?”

“Like most things, if you know the possible outcome your mind will skip ahead and run away with that you think should happen, versus what will.”

“And that…oil or whatnot, it is used often by you?”

“Rarely if ever.” Cara tightened her hold on Kahlan’s hand for emphasis. “The ritual, Kahlan, was a condensed version of what we Mord–Sith go through when we are first evolved, first named and dressed in our leathers. We are given the oils, and we are unleashed. Much as you were. But.” Her eyes fell. “But like with most things, I fear I failed you. What you were given at each step has been the slightest taste, not the full meal.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “I am grasping around at straws, Kahlan. Trying to help you adjust to this. Forgive me my ignorance. I was never a trainer. That was not my lot. I only can guide you with the wisdom I have gained from experience.”

Cara released her hands, and leaned over the chair’s arm to the table. Inadvertently her gown opened, revealing the line of her stomach and her breast, both covered in deep and angry red bruises, enough to make Kahlan gasp. Cara’s eyes narrowed at her, just for a moment, as she finished reaching for a book and with her other hand pulled the black velvet gown closed. Her blue green eyes searched Kahlan’s face for a moment, seeming to be looking for something.

Kahlan relaxed under the inspection.

Seeming pleased with what she saw, Cara opened the book while speaking again. “I have tried to contact Berdine. She always knows more about this sort of thing than I do. But. This all I got back. Either Berdine is drunk, or someone has their journey book.”

She turned the book to Kahlan, and she saw the crude rendering of a penis, drawn by someone who believed strongly in wishful thinking.

“I think stolen.” Kahlan said shaking her head.

“It’s been almost a fortnight. Perhaps a little longer.”

“They will get the book back, I am sure.”

Cara nodded, and then with a swiftness that amazed even Kahlan, she stabbed the small stylus into her palm and scratched something on the page of the book. She smiled and then turned it to Kahlan. It read, you will die. soon.

“Perhaps that will help.” Cara sighed, closing the book. “I admit. I need her guidance. I don’t like the uncertainty, especially when it has to do with you, Kahlan. I am so sorry.”

“No. You forbid me from apologizing, and I am enforcing that same rule.” She shook her head. She watched as Cara closed the book, and set it on her lap, her face calmly waiting. It was almost as if Cara knew that there were words at the fore of Kahlan’s mind. Words that were essential. “I have ached to feel the strike of your rage on my skin.” Kahlan whispered. Cara held her tongue, knowing this needed to be said. “I thought, I hoped that each and every painful blow you felt from me would be returned. That you would return to me the pain.”

“You didn’t think. You acted.”

Kahlan leaned closer to Cara, just to be closer, but was sure to keep her hands to herself, to not get too intimately close. “Yes. Cara, I acted. I just was.” Their foreheads met softly, and Cara allowed the touch. Kahlan could look deeply into her eyes, seeing the tiny flecks of brown and yellow in the greenish blue of her eyes. Kahlan admitted. “But I wanted. I desperately wanted to feel your pain.”

“You did. You are.” Cara cupped her cheek. “Every blow, every punch, every cut and every lash, you felt it too. You always will.”

They were silent for long languid moments. Kahlan just breathed in the closeness, breathed in Cara.

“I will never do that again.” Kahlan pledged from her knees.

“Yes, you will.” Cara said softly, her hand touching Kahlan’s chin.

“Never.”

“Kahlan, you will, and as often as you need to until.”

“Until?”

“Until I can make right this wrong.”

* * * * *

The door opened behind them, and Kahlan looked over her shoulder, and was forced to look twice. Because what she saw was so beyond comprehension it took a moment for it to sink into her mind.

Rikka stormed into the room, wearing a long sleeping gown of pale yellow, which seemed entirely misplaced on her body, and her hair was hanging down loosely, naturally crimped from being in a tight braid. She looked soft and ridiculous, and she even walked as though she hated every single moment she was dressed in such a way.

“You are both so very annoyingly stubborn. It is amazing to me that the both of you are still alive.” She growled putting her hands on her hips.

“Rikka! Really, I would think our stubbornness is why we are still alive.” Kahlan replied.

“Here I thought someone would have put a pillow over your head long before now.” She shook her head. “Why do I put up with it?”

“Aside from the fact that she is your master?” Cara chuckled.

Rikka rolled her eyes.

“Because you like Kahlan.” Cara prodded.

“Do not.”

“I think she does like you.” Cara said to Kahlan with a grin.

“Enough! You, Cara, should not be here. Not yet. Up. UP!” She reached for Cara’s arm and the blonde huffed as she stood. “And you, Mother Confessor, You need to be in bed. Resting. No more of this setting fire to things, or trying to sneak out of this room.”

“There are things I need to be doing.”

“Oh? Yes there are. Sleep.” With Cara on one side of her, Rikka pulled Kahlan to her feet. “I am not asking.”

It was Kahlan’s turn to roll her eyes.

“She may be right.” Cara said. “Lay down in our bed. Sleep. And know…know I am somewhere in the palace, my eyes closed, sleeping with you.”

Kahlan took a step closer to Cara. “Just one kiss?”

Cara shook her head and Rikka stood between them.

Kahlan knew. She did. That one kiss would elicit her passion, and her passion would rule her reason. And in all this she now understood, reason was the Mother Confessor, and she needed to be the one to rule Kahlan now.

Instead their hands reached and touched, finger tips brushing together, before Rikka shoved Cara towards the door.

“Sleep Mother Confessor. Don’t make me come back here.” Rikka ordered over her shoulder, before she roughly shoved Cara through the door.

* * * * *

The scream of the Agiel reverberated in the quiet forest moments before it connected with the side of his head, sending him sprawling through the air for two paces. He landed with a muffled cry, and a face full of mud. She kicked his hip, rolling him over before she stood over him, glaring down with her cold blue eyes.

“Where is it?” Berdine questioned.

“I… oh Spirits! Please, I… I.” His tiny dark eyes went as wide as they could as he looked up at her, all color draining from his cheeks.

“The BOOK.” She stressed.

“Book?”

Raina reached down for his large leather pack where it sat beside the smoldering fire. With a look of boredom on her face she upended his pack, sending baubles, trinkets, a compass, some food, and the book scattering across the ground. “Oh look.” She said throwing the pack over her shoulder and bending, her gloved fingers picking it up. “The book.”

“I never would have taken it.” The man pleaded, uselessly. “I never would have stolen from Mord–Sith. Honest. I would never.”

“Word of advice then? When you see two women with long braids, whether they be naked or in leather? They are Mord–Sith.” Raina said looking at him like he was a fascinating little bug, with the same expression one has before they drop their boot heel down on it.

Berdine dropped to her knees on either side of his narrow chest, and her Agiel pressed into his ribs. She smiled at him deviously as his ribs popped. He screamed, as they always do. Rolling her eyes she hoped just one day to meet a man who didn’t scream at the first broken bone. It would provide a little more respect for their species. As of yet? That had not happened.

“What’s your name, little weasel?”

“W…w…wi..wilson.” He stuttered.

“Ha!” Raina laughed, walking closer to them. She held out the book. “Look what Cara wrote!” Berdine noticed the faint but familiar scrawl spelling out prophetically, ‘you will die. Soon’

“Our Mistress is very astute. Pity you are an utter idiot, Wilson.”

He groaned in pain. And she hadn’t even really hurt him yet. This little peon had taken them leagues off course, had made them hike through swamps and through towns where the sight of Mord–Sith was not one that brought out the best in villagers. She was angry. Her Agiel pressed hard into his stomach, and he twitched with the agony. Tears broke from his eyes, and he was mumbling something about being sorry, or not meaning to upset her. Not that it mattered. He was just an annoyance. They had the book. She would kill him and they could resume their quest.

Berdine made a noise between a growl and a moan of frustration, as she stood and moved away from the sobbing man.

“He’s still alive.” Raina quipped, as she flipped through the journey book, but her eyes were watching Berdine. She could feel it.

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed.” Berdine slammed her Agiel away, and crossed her arms tightly in annoyance over the tops of her breast. Why did she suddenly feel as though killing the weasel was not the appropriate response? Never had she hesitated before.

Raina walked over to her. “You can’t do it.”

“No. I can’t.” Berdine mumbled, then out of spite, turned and kicked Wilson the weasel. Hard. He rolled away.

“It’s been ongoing for a while. Since Kahlan.” Raina said.

“I know.”

“Do you think they know? That already so much is changing?”

“I doubt it.”

“Well they know something is going on.” Raina held the book open to her, and she snatched it, looking down. One page was a ridiculously inaccurate snake drawing. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance when she realized it was not a snake.

She kicked Wilson again, though not as hard.

Turning the page she saw the firm and thoughtful handwriting, it was Cara’s but done slowly, in thick red.

“ ‘Why haven’t you written? If you are not trapped in some dark tomb, or in a dungeon but are merely enjoying the countryside I will be very disappointed. Something is different. The blood lust is still there, but tempered in me, and the others. Yet it seems to be getting stronger in HER. I think she needs to participate in the ritual, but I don’t know every aspect of it. I will try and wait, until I heard from you. DAMNIT BERDINE YOU BETTER BE ALIVE OR I WILL KILL YOU.’ “

Berdine slammed the book closed, and her lips pressed together in anger and frustration. “You know, I think I will kill that bastard.” She turned, but Wilson the Weasel was gone. She huffed.

“Maybe she is still waiting to hear from you, before she does anything?”

“Cara? Wait for anything?” Berdine shook her head. “If she isn’t very careful, Kahlan could break her. Irrevocably.” She could feel the slight tingling of concern nibbling at the back of her skull. For Cara to write more than a sentence meant she was worried, that she was considering the ritual was downright upsetting.

“I don’t think that would happen.”

“Did you think she would make the Mother Confessor a Mord–Sith?”

“Well, no. I wasn’t expecting that either.” Raina bumped Berdine with her hip. “Well, write her back. And then we will start heading north, north west. We could probably make it to Aydindril in a week, if we get some horses.” She looked up at her with her dark eyes wide, and it was just the look Berdine needed, to calm her mind, and cease all the thoughts she was having. She allowed herself to just be lost in the dark calming pools of brown for a moment. “I’ll even let you check the book as often as you want.”

Berdine nodded, and began pulling off her glove.

* * * * *

“This can’t be right.” Richard said stopping and looking around. The well worn trail they had been following over the crest of the hill dipped down before them, and in fifty short yards disappeared under the rough waves of a massive lake. “This trail just disappears.”

“That happens sometimes, my boy.”

“I know that nature retakes what is hers. But, this trail is well used. Or was. It should lead down further.” Richard pulled off his pack, and dug around inside, until he found a map, which he pulled out. “Let’s see.” He looked up at the landscape, and then back down at the map, which seemed wrong. “What… this should be a valley and a village.” He looked again at the map. “The Valley of Bishop’s Throne. What happened here?”

Zedd clamped his hand down on Richard’s shoulder, rather hard. “Ah, I know this! You see, the people of this village made a grievous error.” Richard stood up, feeling as though this was going to be one of those stories that would go on in length but hold very little merit, once they reached the end. Still, he humored his grandfather.

“This error? It seems recent, if you take into account how well worn this trail is.”

“You would be correct. From what was told to me, the people of Bishop’s Throne were a complacent people for quiet a few generations. Running down from these hills was a small, delicate stream. The stream of course brought small fish, but nothing too large. It also served one or two farms, but as the village elders began to court the idea of expanding the village into more of a hamlet, they in their lack of vision determined that they should stop the small stream.”

“Why?”

“Oh, like most men, they were short sighted. They thought that by stopping the small and regulated stream it would create in its place a pond. Or they hoped a lake.”

“That makes no sense.”

“When man makes decisions based on greed it never makes sense, my boy.” Zedd grinned. “They blocked the stream. Stopping its steady and dependable flow. And then the rains came to the mountain range hundreds of leagues away. And it rained. And it really rained. But here? They did not see the rain, and carried on about their daily pursuits. Then one day, the little stream turned into a raging river, and that river brought with it a flood of unimaginable power.”

“And the people in the village?”

“They all drowned. Simply due to their own greed and lack of foresight.”

“Mmhm. Poor buggers.” Zedd slipped his hands into the large sleeves of his robes. “So now in this place instead of the small yet prosperous village of Bishop’s Throne, we have the sullen Tribune lake. But I don’t advise taking a swim. Too many dead bodies.”

“Thanks for the advice, Zedd.” Richard looked out over the still water, then grimaced. “Well, we can head back around. I was hoping to reach the next town by night fall.”

“In such a hurry are we?”

“Yes. I am hoping there will be some news from Aydindril.” He pulled his pack back over his shoulders. “I checked the parchment again, and still nothing as of this morning.” He complained. “This isn’t like Kahlan. For her not to respond.”

“Perhaps the letter did not reach her.” Zedd made the same excuse he had been making for a week.

They had sent the parchment to Kahlan, and while he had to make the contents of the letter benign he had thought her smart enough to understand the simple message hidden within. That the parchment had been spelled, much like the pages of a journey book, so that they could communicate. There was a lot of conflicting information being shared within the Midlands they had discovered on their travels. The most disconcerting for Richard were the tales of madness in the southern townships of both Westland and the Midlands. He had been hoping that once he told this to Kahlan that she would rush south, and work with him to determine what was really going on. Richard just knew that the letter had reached her, and he was disappointed that she had not replied.

“Why do I feel like it did reach her and she just didn’t care? She… she has changed so much.”

“She has. As she should. As you have. For months you have been pinning away. Richard, my boy, you need to accept what has come to pass.”

“What if I can’t? This just… From the moment I saw her in along the edge of the Boundary, I… I loved her.”

“Lust is more like it.” His grandfather corrected in an admonishing tone.

“She was the one for me, Zedd. I felt it. I knew it.”

“You are young.”

“No. I knew.” Richard’s hand settled on the handle of the Sword of Truth, and he felt the tingle of anger that lived inside the sword as it slipped into his hand, up his arm, and constricted his heart. “She looked at me and she felt it too. Suddenly I am supposed to accept that she no longer loves me, and instead loves Cara? A Mord–Sith? It… it is irreconcilable to me. All the dreams I had for us.”

“Therein lies your problem, Richard. You fastened your happiness to her sleeve. You put all your dreams in her hands, and that is never the way love should be. You love, and you love beside them, with them, but never just for them.”

“Wait. What is that?” Richard pointed to the horizon, on the crest of the far hill. It appeared to be a mass of dark shapes emerging from the other side.

“Looks like a swarm of ants.” Zedd offered.

“Ants… more like soldiers. Let’s get a closer look.”

* * * * *

Cara sat up in the small bed; hand around her throat, forcing the feeling of choking away from her mind. The nightmare clung to her just as the thin linen shift did to her skin, soaked through with her cold sweat. Weak afternoon light filled this small servant’s quarter, so she knew she had not been asleep long, regardless of how her limbs and muscles ached.

Nightmares were common, and generally did not affect her in this way. Then she felt it again, a rush of anxiety and absolute dread.

“Kahlan.” Cara hissed, realizing what had woken her, and threw the blankets from the bed as she rose.

* * * * *

Kahlan sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers in a steeple, which she pressed to her lips, as her eyes, unfocused looked out the open windows.

A wind was rising outside, and with it brought the cold scent of snow. Perhaps the last storm of the season. As the breeze slipped inside of her room, uninvited, pulling at her hair, touching her shoulders without invitation she shuddered.

The nightmare she had just woken from terrified her.

It started as they always seemed to. Her, standing in the desert. Alone. Blood and flowers. Silence. The overwhelming guilt at being the last. This time, she had turned around in the nightmare, feeling eyes on her. Standing there had been a small girl, her clothes as foreign as her expression. In her right hand she held a sword. In her left, by cloying hair, she held Cara’s head; the blonde on her knees, lifeless.

Kahlan closed her eyes again.

This was no ordinary nightmare. That she knew. But the sickness of it, the feeling of warning was painfully oblique. What did it mean?

Her eyes rose, to look at the ceiling high above her, and her lips formed the words her hoarse voice spoke, “Spirits, please guide me. What is to come? What can I do?”

A door slammed open nearby, and as if an answer to her plea suddenly Cara was standing at the foot of the massive bed, her chest heaving up and down as if she had just run a long distance, the shift she wore, was nearly transparent, and her skin was damp.

“Cara.” Kahlan said her voice breaking just so. Her hand reached out, and she felt fearful that this too may be part of a dream.

Cara crawled across the bed, and wrapped her strong arms around Kahlan, and as she breathed in Cara’s distinct scent Kahlan knew this was real.

“I love you. I love you.” Cara muttered into her hair, holding even tighter. It was as if her lover knew that she needed her, needed to be held by her.

“It… is it too soon? Can you?”

“I am here. I will always be here, with you.”

“What if I can’t do this? What if I can’t be both things? I can’t even properly rule my people?”

“There is nothing you cannot do.” Cara declared.

“Cara, I am so –“ The word terrified was refused, by strong lips on hers, and hands in her hair. She could feel Cara’s body trembling.

“You cannot be that, you cannot say that. You are strong. You are amazing. You will succeed completely. You HAVE to. You are my strength. You are… my everything.” Cara said, pulling her back down to the bed. “Your nightmare, I felt it.” Her hands moved over Kahlan’s face, touching, feeling. As if it had been far longer than hours since they had seen each other, as if through the space of the dream and sleep, years had passed. “Always and forever I am with you.” Cara said, before setting their lips together. The tenderness within her lips made Kahlan’s eyes flutter closed, as her hands went to hold Cara’s face. Rising inside of Kahlan was love, pure and honest. Passion colored the pastel edges of the emotion, highlighting the kiss, with each pass of Cara’s lips, but it did not overwhelm or take control. The kiss they shared was not one to fuel passion, but to reaffirm their commitment and devotion for one another.

Cara’s damp body curled around Kahlan’s, and her fingertips moved over her closed eyes, as their lips continued to brush together. Chaste kisses, that with each brush of their lips, forced the feelings of worthlessness and uncertainty from Kahlan’s mind.

“Just a dream. Whatever it was, it was just a dream.” Cara’s voice murmured between the pressure of her lips. Kahlan nodded, not wanting or needing to speak, instead she returned the tender touch with her own lips across the entirety of Cara’s face.

All she needed was in her arms.

Part 7

Contrary to Cara’s request, Kahlan refused to sit in the long and vapid dining hall beside Drefan surrounded by the ever growing legion of sycophantic bourgeoisie of Aydindril. While Kahlan was well aware of where her responsibilities lay, she flat out refused to allow them and the reality that they portrayed to encroach on the moment that she needed. The Mother Confessor put her foot down and ordered dinner to be brought to her chambers, and then, her fingers entwining with Cara’s sat before the warming fire in the hearth and ate. She was even able to use her narrowed eyes and pursed lips to have Cara relent and eat thin slices of venison from Kahlan’s fingers. Even though Kahlan knew she was tempting the Mistress inside of her as she watched Cara’s lips part, her tongue slowly extended to take the meat, and especially after, as her jaws and teeth minced together and her tongue, wet and poignant slid over her bottom lip. Cara seeing the affect she was having on Kahlan, had offered her a cup of tea, before causally pulling a loose blanket tighter around her body.

Subtly reminding Kahlan to breathe.

Words were sparingly given. Kahlan’s head seemed to be clear, yet so much had changed between yesterday and today, that if she paused for a moment she felt nearly dizzy with it.

When she released a deep sigh, Cara looked at her with understanding, as though she had known this moment was coming, and had been content to wait out its arrival. “Will Rikka be outside the door, if I decide that there are things I should be doing down in the Council Chambers?”

“No.” Cara’s lips only slightly curled in a smile.

Kahlan nodded, and then slowly stood, and looking down at Cara, extended her hand. Cara looked at the hand, and then up her arm, eyes following the natural lines before she looked at her eyes with question. Kahlan responded by wiggling her fingers to get Cara to take her hand.

Smirking, the blonde did so.

“Will you meet me down stairs?”

“Oh? You want me to walk around the Palace in this… piece of fabric?” Cara pulled on the thin and still transparent shift.

“If no one else was here, I would welcome you however you wished to be. Naked.” She gently bit her bottom lip. “In that slip. A robe. Your leathers. Mm. Even a dress.” Kahlan’s voice had dipped low, into a warm purr.

“Really.”

“Yes.” Kahlan smiled. “And yes I am prepared to see red leather again, without being overcome.”

Cara nodded in agreement.

“Meet me?”

“We’ll see.” Cara smiled, dropping the blanket to the floor, before stepping forward and barely brushing her lips against Kahlan’s cheek as she walked passed.

Kahlan turned her head and allowed her eyes to follow her mate as she sensually walked, her back strong, her head lifted with pride, across the floor and into their bed chambers. Slowly Kahlan closed her eyes and took in a deep breath to calm her thundering heart and the tension in her hands. Just a moment to ground herself, and then she turned and walked briskly out of the room.

* * * * *

“I want General Tobias Brogan in the receiving hall within the hour.” Kahlan said, knowing exactly when Sergeant at Arms Wyborn fell into step beside her. Not four steps onto the main floor of the Council Chambers and he appeared. He had been waiting, as she knew he would be. She did not bother looking at him, knowing there would be no need; Kahlan did not even pause in her steps.

She listened as he ordered someone behind them to go, and quickly, before his voice was at her shoulder, and she could see his whitening hair and the darkness of his tunic out of the corner of her eye.

“There was quite a skirmish last night.” He offered, his bright eyes flicking to her and then away.

“Oh?”

“Apparently some drunken soldiers got into an altercation with some of your Mord–Sith.”

Kahlan replied with the noncommittal, “Hm.”

Wyborn half smiled, as he reached in front of her and gripped the handle to her private office door. Holding it open for her he continued, “And then there was an disagreement with some members from the Blood of the Fold.”

“You don’t say.”

“All the men died of course.” He looked hard at her, as she sat behind the desk. “All but the D’Haran devil who has been standing at the front gate asking for his Mistress.”

Kahlan looked at the lines of Wyborn’s face as well as the twinkle in his eyes. He was doing his best not to show any outward sign of pride, in his manner or his voice. And yet, there it was, in his eyes. While he had truly no idea what had taken place during the night, what he did know, apparently was that Kahlan and the others had battled and killed a good deal of men. And that, as this man was not only the closest thing to a father that she had, but as the man who taught her how to swing a sword and plunge a blade, brought out his pride. Though he was loathe to admit it. No one could truly lie to the Mother Confessor. Save Mord–Sith.

“Orsk.” Kahlan said the man’s name, and then tapped her finger on the table. She had not forgotten him, she just was not sure what to do with him. He was not a man who would go unnoticed. “You may send him in. Oh, but have him cleaned up, perhaps find him some more befitting clothes?”

“As you command, Mother Confessor.” Wyborn’s lip twitched again, indicating he had far more he wanted to say, but with decorum he waited.

Kahlan continued to stare at him, for a moment enjoying the way he fought to not look away. She set her elbow down on the desk and then dropped her chin in her hand. “General Brogan…would you like to be there when I speak with him?”

“I dare say I would.” His smile then broke through brightly.

* * * * *

“Oh look. I didn’t know we would have the company of oversized, disfigured, and stupid this evening.” Cara said as she walked into the room, a vision in red, her hair brushed out and softly framing her face. Orsk, who had been fidgeting with the bracers and edges of the Home Guard tunic he wore, as it was too small, spun around at the sound of her voice and made a noise at the back of his throat. It was even more animalistic than a growl.

A meaty fist went around Cara’s throat, lifting her feet off the ground, but that didn’t stop Cara’s own responding growl or her kicking at him

“Orsk! Do you know who that is?” Kahlan said, standing quickly. She looked from the one eye peering at her from his scarred face to Cara, who pursed her lips and looked almost amused, even with his hand around her throat.

“Mord–Sith, Mistress, sworn enemy of Confessors.”

“He isn’t so dumb then.” Cara choked out.

“That is Mistress Cara. You will put her down.”

Kahlan watched as Cara’s boot heels touched the floor, and then his fingers slowly, as if he had to tell each and every one of the five individually, released Cara. To the blonde’s credit she did not move away, did not touch her throat, merely set her hands on her hips, and her lips curled again in that smile that was a cross between a smirk and a leer. The smile that advertised calm, while beckoning anyone to raise a hand to her. As if she was looking forward to a fight.

That was it exactly, Kahlan thought as she walked past Cara, feeling those eyes on her, almost becoming light headed with the scent of the instant burst of adrenaline that was warmly rolling off of Cara. The Mord–Sith would always welcome a fight, look forward to it, not for the pain and death, but for the having the opportunity to lower the chains of restraint on their rage. On, what was in all truth, their power. Anger. Rage. It was power. Just as the Confessor had love and compassion. She felt the slight twitch of awakening within her, and Kahlan swallowed. She would stay in control.

Hally and Rikka, who had been behind Cara, now came into the room, both seeming at ease and taking in the scene before them, but Kahlan did notice that Hally’s hand twitched just beside her Agiel. Their faces shown with indifference, but Kahlan was fairly certain that both Mord–Sith would not hesitate if the threat from Orsk seemed real. Especially Hally, who had a definite score to settle.

Kahlan walked up to Orsk and glared up at his one eye. “You will never raise a hand to her again for if you do I will be very displeased.”

“But she is Mord–Sith.” He whined.

Kahlan punched his shoulder, before yelling. “No! Cara is my mate!”

“Mate?” His brows fell together in confusion.

“My mate.” Kahlan again stressed.

“But… Orsk can be that. Orsk makes fine, strong children.”

“Can I kill him?” Hally asked.

“Not yet.” Cara said under her breath.

“Why kill him? He is large. Strong.” Rikka crossed her arms. “I do not understand you people.”

“We aren’t people.” Kahlan began.

“We’re Mord–Sith.” Cara finished with a smile, that momentary flash of their very special smile. It came and went too swiftly.

Kahlan looked back at the giant of a man. He was big and strong, and apparently somewhat smart, as he had lived this long as a fierce warrior. He did have Cara’s coloring; naturally bronze skin, blonde hair, and what may have been bluish green eyes.

“Not him.” Cara said sharply, as if reading her mind.

“Why not?” Kahlan looked at her sharply. “Rikka is correct; he’s strong, smart, determined.”

“And a D’Haran.”

Kahlan furrowed her brow. “So are you.”

Her voice dropped in strength but only slightly, just a momentary sign of weakness. “You should not… it should be someone from the Midlands.”

“Why?”

Cara crossed her arms. “D’Haran’s are bound to Lord Rahl, the line of Confessors should be free of that connection.”

“Oh. Well…”

“You can still keep him if you want. For a pet. He is huge, and would be an asset.”

“I see.” Kahlan smiled sadly. “This has nothing to do with the fact that you deeply do not want me to be with anyone else?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Cara’s eyes flashed hurt, proving Kahlan’s point.

“Ridiculous? I do not think you believe that. I think that this, seeing it in front of you and the possibility of it bothers you. So do you see now why I do not want to do this? I don’t even want to consider it?” Kahlan snapped back, feeling the pressure building behind her eyes.

“You need to.”

“Why?”

“Kahlan, we will talk about this later. Just…”

“If you tell me to relax I swear to the Spirits, Cara I will”–

Cara took a step forward and with her voice brittle cut her off. “And you may with my blessing. But for now, calm down.”

She turned her back to Cara, not out of anger, but out of suddenly realizing she was right. She had gotten angry. Almost instantly. Which was not like her. Or perhaps now it was.

“Orsk, you will protect Cara as you protect me, do you understand.” Kahlan commanded, feeling as though at that moment it was the only function of her power she could allow herself to touch.

“As you wish, my Mistress.”

* * * * *

Her back was heaving, the white material of her dress stretching tight, and Cara could feel the unease growing inside of Kahlan. But she also had faith that she would take a deep breath, or twelve, and the rage would dissipate. Just as she knew the headaches would return, and she knew that there would not be a long stretch of time that passed before she found herself again on the end of her Agiel. And Cara would welcome that moment. Not as a punishment, on the contrary, she relished the idea of walking that path with Kahlan. She watched closely as she took another deep breath, and slowly let it out.

Cara’s skin was bruised and torn, but it did not matter. It was the intent that mattered, not the affect. Even consumed by the lust and the rage, Cara knew that Kahlan would not go through that one particular door. If was not that Cara thought Kahlan incapable of killing, she had seen the Mother Confessor kill hundreds of people over the past year. It was just an instinctual feeling inside. That she would not die by Kahlan’s hand.

This was a reality that she had come to understand many moments ago. She ceased fearing death at the hands of the Mother Confessor the day of the trial in that dusty village. Surely she had hoped in her quickly hatched plan that she would push and manipulate Kahlan and her emotions to the breaking point, getting her to kill her, so that she could finish the evolution into becoming Mord–Sith; but in that act Cara knew she would not have the final death. She had just known that she would still live.

Perhaps it was blind faith in the breath of life.

Or clear and true faith in the power of Kahlan’s heart.

Slowly, her dark hair moved, and her pale cheek was turned to Cara, and then her warm blue eyes, clear and aware found her face. While her lips did not part, nor did they smile, in the intensity of Kahlan’s gaze Cara could feel her thanks, and could feel the Mother Confessor regaining control.

* * * * *

After the pregnant pause of the moment, Kahlan glared and pointed to the corner, and Orsk went to stand there obediently. Then as if the tension slipped out of the room, Captain Ryan spoke. “So far, reports from last night are that there were three times as many disturbances as normal.”

“I think that may have been due to a certain group of women.” Kahlan began, leaning her hip to the desk.

“No, Mother Confessor. These reports are from all over the city, not merely the altercations… between the Mord–Sith. Fights, arguments. They were all over the city really. Someone tried to set fire to another man, apparently because the other man got served ale first.”

“That sounds more like events after a drunken celebration. But at the end of winter?”

“It is very much outside of the realm of normalcy.” Sergeant Wyborn added.

The winds. What she had sensed on them, that unease. Could that be the harbinger for whatever it was that was giving birth to discontent? The mind of man and what motivated him was one of the deepest wells of mystery. While in wisdom one could read signs and recognize the fine line between cause and affect, there was still so much that was unexplainable.

“Letters of intent began arriving this afternoon.” Captain Ryan said, motioning to a small stack of letters that Kahlan had been purposely ignoring on the desk behind her.

“Intent?” Hally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her, as she poked at the stack of letters. Kahlan noticed that when Cara cleared her throat, Hally’s hand sprung back. It was fascinating to her to see how all these women seemed to follow Cara. And how Cara seemed to take that responsibility seriously.

Kahlan sighed lightly. “I had forgotten.”

“Yes well, our preparations have already begun, Mother Confessor.”

“Good good.” She said distractedly.

“The Spring Solstice is in two weeks.” Captain Ryan filled in the obvious question in Hally’s face.

She felt the closeness of Cara beside her, before her voice asked. “Another gala then?”

“Yes.”

“My. The Midlands are very well versed in celebrations.” Cara said lightly.

“That they are. It brings all of the different kingdoms together, giving them some sort of common,” Kahlan’s voice drifted off as she looked at Cara and saw that no explanation was needed. She smiled sadly before finishing. “Yes, another ridiculous party.”

“I never said.”

“You don’t have to. I said it for us both.”

“Will.” Cara leaned so close her breath caressed Kahlan’s cheek. “The Night Wisp be coming?”

“One or two, the night before. This gala is held during the day. When the sun is at its blinding peak.”

“Oh.” Endearingly her tone was full of disappointment.

“We can go visit them any time you like, Cara.”

“Why would we do that?” She asked, looking away.

“Why in deed.” Kahlan smiled, setting her hand gently on Cara’s arm, hoping for just a moment that in her touch she was able to reveal to Cara all the things she was thinking and feeling, just as she could in the sacred fields of the Night Wisp; in a touch sending her the warmth of her love, the conviction of her promise, and the need that Cara know through all this that she was never angry at her, but with certain circumstances she faced. “Walk with me?” She asked, and Cara merely nodded as they walked from the room, and then through the empty Council Chamber.

The metal clanking against metal in perfect synchronicity with hard leather slapping against the marble floors of the chamber hall signaled the approach Kahlan had been waiting for. The rigid uniformity of the sound was as grating as the uptight pulse of the men she saw as she lifted her eyes. Slowly she crossed her legs, and set one hand on the arm of the First Council Chair, her chair, her face as cold as she felt when she looked at these men.

Their bright red capes, touted to be blood red, but the color was not that of blood, it was vanity in crimson, a red of innocent slaughters and pious rhetoric. It was just like the obscene feather on the top of their helmets, a peacock plume announcing to all that should see them that these men were righteous in their narcissism, holding strong to their ignorant fear. Since the first moment the sun reflected off of the polish armor over their shoulders, blinding her with their belligerent hate, Kahlan, a mere slip of a girl at the time, felt a new emotion in her chest. That emotion had been sorrow. Sorrow for the ignorant men who proclaimed that their way, their view was the only one, and in doing so marked themselves for a life of torment in the Underworld at the hands of the Keeper. Bigotry and finger pointing; rounding up women who did not obey their so called ‘male betters’ and torturing them in the name of the Creator. It was not a path to righteous salvation as they deluded themselves into thinking; it was hate. And hate was unjust.

The Blood of the Fold for generations had tortured and murdered the peasants, and even the royalty of Nicobarese, believing that only those who wore the uniform of the Blood could see truth in humanity, and with this burden they were the men whose prideful duty corrupted them, and turned them into the scourge of the land, who in the name of the Creator could declare any person a baneling, and therefore grant the Blood of the Fold the right to do whatever they pleased.

Their thirst for righteousness still brought out feelings of sorrow in Kahlan, but now, as she had seen the results of their fervor first hand, the sorrow was colored with a thick coating of disgust. That one man could do to others what she had seen these men do. Not merely during the fight the night before. No, as a Confessor she had walked through villages, seen the doors painted with the red x on them, walked into so called truth rooms, where bodies of the tortured where staked in the corners like logs ready for the fire. She had seen the evil side of man, with its myriad faces, over time. The Blood of the Fold had been one such face that always appalled her.

She never understood why all of the Mother Confessors before her had allowed such rampant murder in the name of the Creator. Why no one had stepped back from the illogical stance that this was how it was always done, and taken the logical road that was clear, this was not how it should be.

From under the white hood of her Mother Confessor’s armor the eyes of a Mord–Sith flashed red, and narrowed in on the man who walked efficiently down the center isle of the room. Kahlan could almost feel the scar on her lip twitch as he came closer, and she could see the look in his eyes. The look that stated he had a deep contempt for being ordered to come before her, as well as a contempt for her in general. Well, she thought, as her eyes turned cold blue again, that feeling was certainly mutual.

Stopping two feet from the steps that lead to her, he weakly nodded his head in greeting, a courtesy he felt above. Which was fine. The Mother Confessor did not need his courtesy. Not really. She waited, for a moment enjoying watching his mind through his ignorant eyes. Watching the questions that filled him, the concern, as well as the simpleton voice she was sure was there, filling him with the lack of understanding that made him dangerous.

“High General Tobias Brogan.” He seemed to positively vibrate at the sound of his own name. Pride lifted his chin. She was looking forward to watching it drop. “An interesting rumor reached me, the night before last.”

“The Keeper thrives in the wagging tongues of the gossiper.”

“That he may. And still, I heard that the King of Nicobarese is no longer.”

“He been baneling. Was dispatched, back to his master.” Brogan crossed his arms.

“I see. When did this happen?”

“My own hand was what slain that monstrosity and impostor.” He smiled arrogantly. “Prior to my arrival in Aydindril, for the winter season.

“Nicobarese did not submit the official notification to the Central Council, detailing that their King was no more.” Kahlan said evenly.

“You call me in to discuss paperwork?”

Kahlan smiled, and turned to Cara who stepped beside her chair, and leaned against it, her arms crossing and her lips pulling into her deadliest smile. Kahlan returned it with a knowing twinkle in her eyes. “No.” Kahlan laughed, turning back to the High General. “Not for paperwork. I also have it on good authority that some of your men attacked the Mord–Sith last night.”

“I know not of that, Mother Confessor. My men hold the law of Aydindril in high esteem. They not be running around attacking anyone who does not deserve it.” He huffed, his eyes skipping around the room behind Kahlan, as ten Mord–Sith seemed to be breathed out of the shadows.

The muscles around his eyes twitched as he looked at these women, who where the true wearers of blood, who were the honest executioners. Mord–Sith were not a band of ignorant men bent on control and ridicule. While the truth was they followed their Lord Rahl, they always did so with the altruistic quality that, while horrible in nature, could not be denied its honesty.

“It is a terrible thing that good men died.” He hissed.

“If they would so good, do you not think they would have lived?” Kahlan asked sweetly.

“Keeper’s whores those women are. Dark and wanton ways that bend ones sensibilities. Not to be trusted Mother Confessor.”

Kahlan stood slowly, her voice calmly proceeding. “They are their own. They do not belong to nor follow the Keeper. You would do well to remember your place, General Brogan. In fact, I believe I told you that you were no longer welcome in my city. Yet here you stand. The thaws are coming. Before the last flake of snow is melted from my city streets, you and your fanatics will be gone. If there is one person left in the Palace of Nicobarese? I will burn it to the ground and then I will be coming for you.”

“You threaten war on a sovereign land?” He blanched.

“Nicobarese, and the Blood of the Fold have been allowed to prosper in your own way, free to follow your beliefs, even though I abhor your ideology. I allow you to exist. By breaking the laws of Aydindril, by breaking my laws? You forfeit your right to be a component of the Midlands. Those days are dead. The Blood of the Fold is no longer a member of the Central Council. Any further acts of aggression against me, against Aydindril, against the people of the Midlands, against Mord–Sith or any citizen of D’Hara, and you forfeit your right to life. Am I clear?”

“As ice, Mother Confessor.”

“Let us hope so. For your sake.” She sat down gently, her hand running over her knee, as she needed to do something with her hand, it positively ached to wrap around his throat. She looked up from under her brows and she hoped her emotions were for once very clear in her expression. “You can leave. Now.”

In a huff, but with no other comment, he spun on his heel and marched away.

“Apparently the pretty prince is not happy with your lack of faith in his version of the Creator.” Cara chuckled as he stormed out of the hall, his men falling into an arrogant line behind him.

“What they believe… it is not faith. It is insanity.” Kahlan snapped back. “This world would be a better place without the likes of them. Those that cling to fear reshaped into rhetoric. Blind belief.”

“What they believe is true to them. We may disagree, as will others. But haven’t you told me, that the passion in ones beliefs are what makes them true for that person.”

“That makes no sense.” Kahlan argued.

“No? You told me that in love there was strength. I thought you crazy for saying it, for believing in it. But, I did not want to beat you over the head with my disbelief. I accepted that we differed there. And then in time, I learned to see things from your point of view.”

“That is not the same. What they think.”

“Is their truth.” Cara stressed. “Just because it is their truth does not mean it is yours or mine.”

“Why are you making excuses for them? They would slaughter you in an instant.”

“They would try.”

“Cara! You don’t understand.” Her hand slapped the arm of her chair.

“You are wrong. I do. You are the one who does not. Those people? Let them think what ever they want. So long as they do not raise their fist to you and your people? They are harmless, and they do have a place.”

“Now you are telling me the world needs both good and bad.”

Her eyes flashed a hurt green. “Yes.”

Kahlan shook her head. “This is beyond your understanding.”

Cara’s shoulders went back, and her chin lifted as her jaw, just for a moment tightened. “I see.”

Kahlan noticed then that her own fist was clenched, and so was Cara’s though hers was around the handle of her Agiel.

“Cara.” Kahlan said softly.

“I will leave you to the things that are clearly beyond my simpleton mind’s understanding.” She mumbled, before stepping down from the dais.

The urge to call out to her as she walked briskly from Council Chamber was consuming, but Kahlan knew that doing such a thing would be not only improper but insulting to Cara. She would let her leave for now. Knowing full and well that it was because Kahlan had snapped not once but twice at her within the pass of a candle mark.

She sighed. Finding balance was going to be much harder than she thought; when all she wanted to do was lash out and hurt someone when her anger swelled.

Kahlan closed her eyes.

Without thinking she kept hurting Cara.

* * * * *

When she returned to their chambers, Cara was sitting in the chair beside the fire. Not Kahlan’s chair, where she normally would sprawl out with a smile, letting her fingers move over the thick blue velvet; no, Cara was sitting in the smaller chair, still well appointed, but it made Cara seem tense, as though there were thoughts clouding her mind. Kahlan felt unsteady on her feet, seeing the profile of her face as she looked into the flames, how they highlighted and shadowed the natural lines of her brows, her lips.

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Cara said softly, her eyes still lost in the flames.

Kahlan was unsure as to what to say next, or rather how to say it.

She took Cara’s hands and slowly pulled, and smiled when the blonde stood. Her eyes searched her face, but as always she could not merely read the Mord–Sith; there were times when she could easily read the woman and her mate, but the face looking back at her was solid in its complex calm. Kahlan tightened their hands, and walked backwards, guiding Cara with her towards the bed chamber. “Make love with me?” She asked in a husky tone.

“It may be too soon.”

“I disagree.”

“You would.” Cara steeled her resolve and stopped them from moving. “Kahlan? Why? Tell me, what is motivating you?”

“Love.”

Cara’s brow lifted, she expected more.

“The dreams, the talk, the expectations. How I… how I touched you last? All of it is stacked in my chest and I can’t have that be…” She closed her eyes. “I can’t let it sit there; being the last time I touched you. Is craving intimacy so wrong?”

Cara laughed gently. “You are expecting me? A Mord–Sith to tell you that yes it is.” Her voice paused and became low and serious. “No. It is not wrong.”

“Are you afraid that… that I will hurt you?”

“Never.”

“Then what is it?”

“You cannot take me to the bed and make love to me, as a way to heal me, or nurture me. That would tip scales that are tenuously being built inside of you.”

“Would it also be…a mistake if I were to consume you with passion and aggression?”

Cara nodded.

“Good.”

“Good?”

Kahlan pulled again on her hands. “Make love with me. With me. As my equal. As my mate. With the same level of need and love from both of us.”

* * * * *

In the abject privacy of her mind, the world was as wide as the night sky, and she fell away from everything. The cold of the stone under her fingers did not exist; the smell of the air was there but not. All that there was for Cara were the pulsing emotions. Sparked to life moments, months, years ago. Emotions that she did not think had survived the life she lived, but in the warm eyes of her enemy she became everything she thought she wasn’t. She became worthy, good, tender, kind. All in the eyes of the woman who could have killed her with a touch, who instead broke the shackles she had placed around herself as a small child, and in a touch Kahlan had lead her through the door in her soul.

In Kahlan’s eyes she found the path to her heart.

And in Cara’s eyes Kahlan found the path to the dark chamber door of her passion.

Time had not absolved her of anything.

Not that she ever wanted it to.

Love was the salve on the burns of her hate, but still the hate and the wrath raged under her skin. In love she had found strength, endurance, and wisdom.

Tendrils of reality slipped closer, letting her feel the wetness on her cheeks, as her ears heard the low moan coming from the bed in the chamber behind her. Cara sighed her mate’s name in reply.

Falling into bed with Kahlan earlier she had allowed their mutual love to warm their skin and steal their breath. But as Kahlan’s hand moved down her body with delirious intent, Cara had gripped her wrist and told her no.

The look in those blue eyes was one she despised herself for creating. A look of lost hope. With need burning under her own skin, tantalizing her with its torture Cara had pulled Kahlan into her arms and held fast. She had gently kissed her forehead and told her that it was too soon. Because Cara could taste blood on Kahlan’s tongue, could feel the need inside of both of them for the tenderness to evolve into something much more volatile. Using all of her physical strength, and then relying on the strength granted to her in love, Cara explained in vivid and arousing detail what she needed from Kahlan at that moment. How she ached to feel her hand on her throat, holding her forcefully down, how she wanted to scream in the delicious agony that would be found in the pounding of fists. Cara had trembled visibly as she whispered ardently that she wanted to break around Kahlan’s touch. And because of her own need she would force the Mord–Sith’s Blood Lust to cloud Kahlan’s blue eyes, and that Kahlan wasn’t prepared for that yet. That so soon, she would find herself feeling the bliss of her fingers clawing, her mouth marking Cara’s skin, and in that the Mord–Sith would become victorious.

Love was a delicate balance.

Kahlan was still building her scale.

Relenting, Kahlan had said she understood. She had wept tears into Cara’s neck, affirming her love over and over until her voice grew hoarse. As her fingers ripped holes into the linen sheets of their bed.

Cara tapped the spine of the journey book against the stone wall, thinking of the words written inside. In the gentle and perfectly spaced script of Berdine’s hand it said, ‘Do not attempt the ritual. It is too tenuous. Cara do not. I fear you may end up destroyed completely.’

It was too late. Much too late. And though she was not destroyed, neither was the need that flared inside Kahlan. It was there, it was growing stronger. There was a balance to be found, Cara just was not yet sure how to get there. Or where to find it.

Her reply to Berdine had not yet been answered, and the silence was thick. ‘It is done. And will be again. Don’t chastise me. Tell me what to do to make this right.’

She would not sit idly by, there had to be something, a book or clues, in the Wizard’s Keep. The massive shadow of rock cut into the mountain behind Aydindril. The Confessors were educated on all things Mord–Sith, and vice versa. What Cara knew she had been trained on, how to avoid, how to kill. Perhaps there would be some clues in dusty books that would lead her down the path to the balance Kahlan needed.

“Of course I get to look through dusty books, while you gallivant through the forests.” She grumbled at the specter of Berdine she felt behind her.

She tapped the book’s spine once more, before her eyebrow rose, and she looked over her shoulder. The very distinct sound of a sigh. Kahlan’s sigh. The sigh of waking, the sigh of leaving behind the webs of dreams.

Cara turned. She needed to lay with Kahlan, and prayed to the Creator for the strength to do the right thing. Whatever that may be.

Standing where Cara was, the faint light of the moon highlighted Kahlan, and she saw that what she thought was her waking from sleep was actually the onset of the darkness. Quietly, Cara came deep into the room, and set the journey book beside the lit candle on the table beside her.

The jerking motion of Kahlan’s arm meant she was deeper in the throes of a nightmare, and idiotically all Cara could think to do is become the stone to protect her. Desperately she wanted to crawl inside of Kahlan’s mind, knowing she was far better equipped to battle these types of demons. Those that haunted the dreams of Mord–Sith. Cara’s nostrils flared with anger, and helplessness, being here, on the outside unable to do anything. There was still a small vile of oil beside the bed, and not knowing what else to do, she opened the stopper, placing a drop on her finger, before she applied it softly across Kahlan’s forehead.

Looking down on her, watching her eyes moving under her thin eyelids, her lips pulling tight, Cara was over come, and sat heavily on the bed, pulling Kahlan onto her lap, wrapping the Confessor up in her arms, pressing their cheeks together.

“Kahlan, why did I…Hesitation would have destroyed both of us, but in not hesitating I may have dealt you an even more terrible blow.” Cara pressed her lips to her forehead, not caring that the peppermint oil coated her lips. “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing.” A whispered response.

Cara leaned back, looking down, forgetting instantly that tears still covered her cheeks. “You are awake.”

“Yes, my love. And it wasn’t you.” Kahlan’s warm hand caressed her cheek. “This is beyond you or I.”

“I made you Mord–Sith.”

“You led me to the path. The path that I chose to walk. You saved thousands of lives. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I will get through these nightmares and headaches. If I have to sleep in my red leather or clutching the Agiel I will.

“That isn’t the life you should be living.”

“Living. That is the key. I would not be living if I hadn’t.” Kahlan’s truth pushed away some of the doubt in Cara’s mind, just as her thumb brushed away some of the tears. A warm smile came across her lips, and then her hand urged Cara closer to her, lower, so that softly their lips brushed together.

Cara swallowed, feeling the whispers under her skin, and then their lips met again.

Kahlan exhaled heavily, the scent of her tantalizing on Cara’s wet skin, as she asked rather randomly, “Can I breathe life into you?”

“You have, repeatedly.” Cara whispered her lips again meeting Kahlan’s. The hand on her cheek stilled, keeping Cara from pulling away again. The tender urgency in Kahlan’s kiss did not go unnoticed by Cara, and she steeled herself to not deepen it, nor fall into Kahlan’s arms. It took more strength that she thought she possessed to do both.

“But, if you are hurt… if, Spirits forbid you were to… can I save you?” Kahlan asked her eyes erratic with concern. It made Cara wonder just what the nature of her nightmares had been.

“I don’t know Kahlan. You were not broken as we were, I honestly do not know the strength of your power.” She kissed her nose gently, before sitting up. “We could kill someone and give it a go?”

“No.” Kahlan’s sudden smirk was infectious.

“But we could!” Cara pressed.

“Maybe.” Kahlan smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.

“How long have you been having headaches?” Cara’s voice asked, her breath moving the hair on Kahlan’s shoulder.

“How?”

“You tasted like peppermint when you came to me.”

“Oh.”

“How long?”

“Months.” She sighed.

“How is your head now?”

Kahlan thought. “Much better.”

Cara made a low noise in her chest.

“I am sure it is nothing.”

“Generally I would agree with you. It could be stress, the change of seasons.” Cara urged her onto her back. “Generally. Kahlan, there is nothing general about you, there never has been. And there certainly is not now.” She brushed her finger tips across Kahlan’s temple gently applying slight pressure. “Promise me.”

“What?”

“Promise to tell me when they return. When they get worse?”

“Cara.”

“Promise me.” Her voice was like ice suddenly.

“Yes. I promise.”

Cara kissed her softly, just for a moment. “Thank you.” She mouthed against her lips, before pulling Kahlan into her arms, tightening them around her.

* * * * *

Kahlan’s nose twitched and scrunched at the pungent scent that assaulted her as she stepped out onto the balcony beside Cara.

“What?” She began, but then stopped, looking out to the city. “Another pyre.”

“Yes.” Cara crossed her arms, turning to face her. “The fear of banelings has been amplified by the rhetoric of the Blood of the Fold, they left their mark here certainly. But why is no one thinking that maybe, just maybe now that the Keeper has been defeated and the veil repaired that we don’t necessarily have to throw fresh bodies on the roasting spits?”

“Fear. Just as you said. Do we want to take the chance that the dead won’t come back?”

“Hmm.” Cara’s scowl reappeared.

“I thought D’Harans used funeral pyres.”

“We do. Except for, you know…” Cara’s hand made a dismissive motion towards Kahlan.

“I know?”

“For Lord Rahl.” Her eyes glanced at her from the corner of her eye, before sliding back to the view of the city and the thick smoke.

“Ah.” Kahlan put her hand on Cara’s shoulder, before setting her chin atop it. “What do you suggest? Should I make a decree that we no longer allow funeral pyres?”

“That is not for me to say, or even to think about. I am Mord–Sith, you are the Mother Confessor. You are my Queen.”

“No. You are not Mord–Sith.”

“Yes. I am.”

“So much more than that…you are…” Her voice drifted away for a moment.

“Yes?” Cara pressed.

Kahlan smiled slowly. “You are my Queen.”

“There are laws against that sort of thing.” Cara chuckled.

“Rewrite the laws with me?”

“Oh?” Cara turned, and Kahlan kept her hand on her shoulder, before moving it around to the back of her neck. “You want to allow people to marry more than one person? I never knew polygamy was something you considered.”

Kahlan pursed her lips in a silly grin. “Being a widow who remarried a fiery and sarcastic woman was more along the lines of what I was thinking.”

Cara shrugged her shoulders as her smirk grew. “Eh. We are already joined. In nearly every way. Why give up the power of D’Hara?”

“I will give up everything.” Gently Kahlan kissed her. “For you.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t?”

“Don’t give anything up for me. Relish in it, be it. Be your power. I will be right here, in awe.”

Kahlan pressed their cheeks together and breathed in deeply. “You. The things you say.”

“Are truth.”

“Will you spend the day with me?”

Cara kissed her cheek. “I have some time.”

“Oh? Busy are we?”

“Actually, I do have some matters to look into. But, I can spare some time for you. What did you have in mind?”

“Go riding with me? I am in the mood to feel the wind in my hair.” She looked over the city again. “Fresh wind that is.”

* * * * *

Cara grabbed him by the back of his tunic and lifted his now swinging feet off the ground.

“Put me down you demon!” He hollered at her, his kicking legs trying to gain purchase.

She glared at him and issued a low rumbling growl. “Stop.”

Surprising even to her, he froze.

When she noticed the shadow on the ground, and felt Kahlan’s presence it made more sense.

“What have you caught there, Mistress Cara?”

“Not sure. I thought it was a wolverine scaring the horses, but apparently it is a boy.”

“A boy.”

“Apparently.” She lifted him higher and glared. “Somewhere under the grime.”

She felt Kahlan’s shoulder brush her own as she stood beside her. “What is your name?”

“Oliver, Mother Confessor, Ma’am.”

“Put Oliver down, Mistress Cara.” She said with a smile.

She did so and he immediately stuck his tongue out at her, before dropping to his knees.

“And why are you in our stables, Oliver.”

“I…Um.”

“Why are you in our stables?”

“Stealing tack to sell, Mother Confessor.” He offered, ashamed.

“Why?”

“For bread.”

“Why?” She pressed.

“For sweets.” He mumbled.

“Mm. I see. And this is because your parents do not provide you with enough in life, or enough of the honeyed things in life?”

He stayed sullen, the pout growing larger on his face.

“Stealing from the Mother Confessor.” Cara shook her head.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. I mean.” He looked suddenly confused.

“Doesn’t matter?” Cara stepped closer to him.

“Part of me says it matters, because… because we are taught to appreciate her, I mean, you Mother Confessor.”

“Part?” Kahlan asked.

“The other part tells me that you are nothing. You mean nothing, and you are wicked and wrong to have so much when we all have so little.”

“Where did you hear this?” Kahlan’s voice lacked strength, it having been taken from her and instead filled this young boy’s tone.

“I…I don’t remember.” He looked genuinely confused.

* * * * *

Cara was keeping a close eye on Kahlan. Since the run in with the little boy at the stables she seemed unsure on her feet. As though his words had managed to work their way into her. Cara was apprehensive, knowing that both she and Kahlan were very much used to looks and words issued under breaths. She knew Kahlan was very familiar with being viewed in a negative light, just as Cara was, they both generally gained strength from it. But this seemed to affect her differently.

“Did you give that boy a gold coin?” Kahlan asked as she slowed Nick’s gait down the street. They had passed Kings Row and were heading to the west, through the city, planning to emerge through the open fields on that side of Aydindril. A nice place to let the horses stretch their legs, and to enjoy the wind and fresh air.

“Why would I do that? I gave him a kick to his backside.” Cara replied.

“A kick and a coin.”

“Hm.”

“You like children.”

Cara laughed. “No.”

“You gave him a gold coin. Admit it. And admit that you like children.”

“No. I do not. They unnerve me.”

“And?” Kahlan asked with a smile.

“And I gave him two silver. Not gold.” She mumbled, urging her black horse on a little quicker, only relenting to Kahlan’s teasing, because she enjoyed seeing her smile, and at this point anything to get her mind onto something else would be beneficial.

“You cannot fool me, Cara.” Kahlan said from behind her. “One day you will admit it.”

As they slowly made their way through the busy streets, their horses seeming content as they moved, Cara noticed that there seemed to be more angry looks directed at them than usual. Also, there seemed to be more men on the streets. Not that men were uncommon, but generally at this time of day they were moving with purpose, going to and from places, completing tasks. These men seemed to be milling around in groups, or leaning against walls, arms crossed and eyes hard as they stared at the two of them riding through the street.

Passing a tavern which seemed to be doing very brisk business for this time of the morning, Cara caught some of the words being sung from inside in drunken merriment. Something about the virility of Lord Rahl, and having an army of toe headed sons.

Kahlan came up beside her. “I wonder if we should have the minstrels change their songs of Lord Rahl. Have it be known that his is now half a man.”

“While amusing, it would do more harm than good, for the people, especially D’Harans to know their Lord is without his manhood.” Cara said honestly, but agreeing with Kahlan.

Kahlan pursed her lips, in agreement. “The time when this ruse can end will not come soon enough for me.”

“Oh?” Cara asked, leaning towards her slightly. “I thought you enjoyed being Queen and Lord.”

She turned her head, and gazed longingly at Cara. She could feel the look; it seemed to make her breath catch in her chest. “It is a duty. I enjoy being Kahlan. The woman. Everything else? I will do to the best of my ability and for the good of all. But if the Spirits were to grant me one wish, I would wish to merely be myself.”

“If they gave you one wish, it would be that?” Cara asked.

“Yes.”

Cara was silent for a moment, thinking. “I understand.”

“What would you?”

“Wish for?”

Kahlan nodded.

“For you to get your wish.” Cara smiled.

* * * * *

In Cara’s smile and words she lost herself for a moment. There seemed to be nothing around them, just that special smile. At that moment it did make Kahlan want to get on her knees and pray to the Spirits and the Creator and ask for just that. To just be Kahlan.

“But you know.” Cara said slowly. “That if you were to just be Kahlan the woman? You would not be Kahlan. You are who you are because of what you are.”

She felt her eyes twinkling with emotion, “Oh, Cara.” But her voice was cut short. A sharp sting filled her shoulder, and she turned her head slightly, seeing a small mob coming towards them. Not with eyes filled in irreverence but with hate. Fists were raised over heads, and angry voices were thrown down the street, voices that picked up with hear hears of agreement from other people who had been standing around them.

Cara hissed from behind her.

“You are a charlatan!”

“Centuries we have been under the thumb of witches like you!”

“The Confessor is supposed to be justice and truth! You are neither!”

“Where were you when the demons from the east attacked? When they killed our husbands and sons!”

“All you need to do it protect us! Instead you join the Keeper and his army!”

“No more!”

“NO MORE!”

Nick spun around, suddenly surrounded, and even the war horse knew that this was not safe, that there were almost too many people. There was easily a ring of three people around her, separating her from Cara.

Kahlan looked toward her pleadingly, not afraid for herself, but not liking the looks on the faces that were getting far too close to the Mord–Sith and her sleek black horse.

“Nick.” She said her horse’s name gently, and instinctually he knew and gently started moving through the people, giving them the option of moving or ending up underneath his massive hooves.

A rock glanced off of her forehead, and she felt the bite of it, yet even knowing she was cut and bleeding, the words being shouted, the curses flung were worse. Cara moved to jump from her horse.

“No. Cara. No.” Kahlan ordered, forcing her will without even thinking about it.

Cara’s gritted her teeth, being held in place by the bond the two of them shared. Kahlan hated doing it to her, but knew that if Cara were to jump down from her horse people would die

“How dare they! You’re hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter. We need to go.”

“Not likely.” Cara grumbled before she whistled, shrill and loud. Nick tossed his head, and Kahlan was sure he gave Cara an angry look. She watched as Cara moved to pull her Agiel.

“Cara. No. These are my people.”

“People gone mad!”

The mob surged and as rocks and sticks rained down on them, as another strike landed on her cheek, she felt her own rage grow stronger. She felt the urge to pull her daggers.

Soldiers, in the red tunics of the Home Guard and D’Hara swarmed around them making a protective ring around her and Cara, their swords raised, yells of quiet ricocheted through the streets. The mob seemed to deflate seeing the swords and the show of force. Kahlan was so happy that she was not wearing her Agiel. It would be the tool of destruction for these people.

“Do not hurt them.” Kahlan ordered, but the passion was not in her voice, it was in her blood.

* * * * *

Cara was sleeping, and while she had the inexplicable ability to flash her eyes and wake at the slightest change in the room, she would not wake for a few hours. Kahlan had seen to that, as she brewed their tea, as they both paced the room, upset with the myriad of events from the afternoon. She had been suspect, thinking for sure that Cara would know what she had done, at the added bitterness in the tea from the leaves of Valerian. But she had taken the cup, finished one, then a second.

And now she slept, her face soft, peaceful.

Gently Kahlan kissed her forehead before slipping from the bed.

She did not look back, she knew better than to trust herself to do that. Instead she lifted a long white dressing gown from the back of a chair and tied it around her as she walked out of the bed chamber. Outside the doors of their room, four guards stood with eyes down cast. Their duty was to ensure no one got inside of the Mother Confessor’s private chambers, not to ensure she was kept in. To keep her in was the duty of a Mord–Sith, and none were in the hall.

Quickly and quietly she walked through the gloom, focused, her determination growing with each fall of her footsteps, down stairs, around bends, and then up another set of stairs.

She ignored the guards before the door that she came to in much the same way she ignored those who were following her, and without emotion, because emotion had been left in her bed beside Cara, she opened the wooden door, her voice low and dark.

“Good evening, husband.”

Her fingers lifted the cat–o’–nine from it’s hook beside the door before she slammed it shut behind her.

Part 8

The horse beneath her had just hit her stride, finding that balanced rhythm in the constant power of the canter that was not too fast nor two slow, and Berdine had allowed the animal to find her own pace. It always seemed easier that way. You want to get somewhere fast, allow the method of travel to be most efficient. It had taken an hour of riding, but now she too felt the rhythm of the animal, and just held on mostly by her thighs. Raina was just beside and behind; she could hear the deep exhales of her black mount as they moved swiftly through the rolling hills.

Moving quickly her mood was greatly improved, every day that passed since the debacle, as Raina referred to it teasingly. Her inability to just reach down and snap that weasel’s neck. She had written back to Cara, a short note, telling her that they would return to Aydindril and that under no circumstances should Cara attempt the ritual with Kahlan. It was far too tenuous, the bonds all too thin to put such a heavy strain on.

They had not heard back in two days. Not that Berdine expected anything more. Cara was an enigma. Berdine knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had seen the message, that Cara would have been checking the journey book daily. No, that wasn’t the reason for the lack of response. The reason was probably that Cara had already acted on her impulse and was now dealing with the consequences. The consequence of having an extraordinarily powerful, aggressive, and entirely new sort of Mord–Sith on her hands. Berdine could hardly imagine, the Mother Confessor, with her stubborn pride, twined now with the hungry anger and lust fueled hate. She laughed sadly as her horse moved effortless through the forests under the first leaves in the canopy above. Cara was probably very busy.

And very sore.

Losing herself in the rhythm of the horse, and her thoughts as to what Cara may be facing with these new and seemingly off putting changes in the bond to Lord Rahl, Berdine was not in the reality of the moment, until she felt a sudden change in the air beside her head, and then another by her arm. Turning her head she looked behind at the turn in the hill. There were three men riding horses, two pulling back bows, and releasing arrows.

She turned swiftly, eyes searching out Raina, seeing her in the shadows of the forest canopy. “Arrows!” Berdine called out, just as her eyes fixated on Raina who smirked knowingly at her, before her warm brown eyes went wide, and Raina looked down, at the blossom of blood around the point of the arrow that erupted from her chest.

As she fell, her body moving impossibly slow, from the rushing horse, it reared in fright.

Berdine screamed her name, and saw nothing but red as she pulled so hard on the reins of her horse she was sure she broke its neck.

* * * * *

Her feet landed leadenly on the ground, and a pillar of dust swirled around her, as her eyes narrowed on the swiftly approaching men. Arrows again pierced the air around her, but did not touch her. Nothing could touch her, not with the heat of wrath that burned from the pit of her soul, which would, if it could, burst forth from her skin and burn the entire forest around her to the ground.

In the first heat beat she pressed one foot hard to the earth, solidifying her, the first rider was almost there, the second beat she pulled the Agiel, another for her to reach her powerful arm up and slam it into the center of his chest, as if a dagger blade. Berdine envisioned her pain as white hot iron, and the Agiel slipped through the clothes he wore, through flesh and melting bone. His heart burst before it could beat again. The horse’s erratic gallop turned into a sprint of flight, but the man on the end of her weapon froze in the air. With a growling sneer, as his life ended, and the horse ran away, time sped up and Berdine slammed his dead body to the ground.

She ducked the sword whose intended resting place was her neck, and turned her Agiel to the back of the hand holding it, feeling the pleasure in the scream of pain.

Arrogantly the remaining archer slipped off of the back of his mount and staggered to her with his eyes full of hatred. His hand pulled his sword, not that it mattered, and as he was a mere yard from her, he tried to swing. But in his blind overconfidence he did not see what she was about to do, what in her mind she had already done. Berdine stepped inside the arch of his arms, close enough to feel his heaving chest against hers, and she looked down into his watery eyes. If she wanted to she could look over the top of his head. Not that she did, no, she had other things planned for his head.

His swinging arm hit her shoulder, and it felt like a summer breeze to her. To him, he howled at the pain in connecting with her granite body. She increased his howl, urging it into a scream of desperate longing. Longing for death. The Agiel pressed into his diaphragm, and then harder, deeper between his lungs, bypassing his cage of ribs.

“This. Is. For. Her.” The soft staccato of her tone was emphasized by the punches to his side, as she imagined his lungs collapsing with the pressure of the Agiel. His mouth fell open, gasping like a fish on the shore. Smiling sweetly at this little man, she slammed her forehead into his face, pleased with the crunch of bone, before she twisted the Agiel, bursting his heart.

Wind whistled behind her, moving her braid softly. But she knew before it was there, could feel the presence of his intent before the man behind her swung his sword. Sidestepping, another body falling at her feet, she grinned at the small man and his well worn sword.

With a yell born with the ignorance of pride, he lunged at her, and twisting away, Berdine allowed both her hands to grab the blade at its base, fingers flat. Her elbow met his throat, causing him to instinctively lift his hands to his own neck, the sword no longer important to him.

And it was now in Berdine’s hands. She flipped it, catching the handle in one hand and with the momentum already gained, brought it down, easily severing the man’s arm.

In a torrent of blood the useless limb fell, before his eyes widened. He was without it before he even felt the cut.

Dropping to his knees, his only remaining hand went to the gushing void on his shoulder, his dull blue eyes looking at her, pleadingly.

“Please… please… mercy.” He cried.

Her boot connected with his chin as she advised. “Mercy holds no quarter in my soul.”

* * * * *

She wrenched the arrow from Raina’s still body, throwing it away, and pulled her onto her lap. Berdine felt her blue eyes fill with the unfamiliar wetness of tears and closed her eyes tightly, as she pulled off her glove, and ran her thumb hesitantly over Raina’s silken bottom lip.

It was still warm.

The hush that had fallen over the forest around them, after the last crescendo of screams remained, as if the birds and forest animals knew that in this moment, they were to respectfully hold their tongues and merely observe.

Gently she moved her fingertips over Raina’s skin, skin that from the first moment she saw it, Berdine had felt the consuming need to touch. Her knuckles brushed along the stubborn jaw line, before meeting with the corner of her lips; lips that were the gateway to her voice. The voice, special, unique, that had slipped through the cold stone of Berdine’s dungeon cell, that had reached into the silent storm that was Berdine before her breaking, as innocence had been saying it’s last goodbyes. The voice of this woman had found and touched her in a way that without hesitation Berdine knew she loved her… before their eyes ever met, before she knew the scent of her skin, or even the texture of it. This brilliant woman, with her focus and determination had been for Berdine the unexpected, the calm at the center of the People’s Palace and the fierce storm of destruction that Berdine was born from. Even when they beat and broke Berdine and told her she was incapable of loving anyone or thing, save Lord Rahl, she knew. Just as she had always known that she was meant for more exquisite landscapes than those of man. Raina’s voice, her presence of mind stayed with her when thoughts of everything else went away. When she tasted her first shedding of blood tears, when they first sent her to the Underworld, Raina’s phantom had been with her. She loved this woman, and having her dead, in her arms; it was torture, as it was exquisite. If she was forced to pass permanently into the Underworld Berdine was bound and determined to go there last, so that she would be there with Raina. She would hold her and tell her that she loved her as she slipped from this world. Nothing and no one would stop her from suffering that moment.

Nightmares that danced across her mind in the night were of her never hearing those lips part and speak her name, of never hearing her say something as gruff as ‘if you continue to read that book the words will etched themselves into your eyes.’, or when Raina would look over her shoulder, her brown eyes smoldering with want and need, as her voice would almost hesitantly whisper ‘will you brush my hair?’ sent a stab of pain greater than any Agiel, whip, or breaking of her bones; wrecking havoc through her. Those nightmares, where she was forbidden from the scent of her skin, the flavor of her kiss, or the caress of her words, those were the nightmares that caused her to wake in a sweat of panic and a scream of terror on her lips.

A wayward tear escaped from her eye, and come to rest came to rest on Raina’s cheek, moving slowly alongside her nose. Quickly, Berdine wiped it away, and then angrily wiped at her eyes. She would never hear the end of it if she was caught crying.

Part of her smiled.

Another part smirked.

And a bigger part released a heart wrenching sob, before she pulled it back and swallowed the emotion down, before she took a deep long breath into her, and looked back down, to the still woman who lay across her lap.

The side of her thumb brushed against Raina’s bottom lip again, pulling her lips slightly open, and keeping her eyes focused on Raina she leaned down, brushing her lips against her lover’s once, then whispering to her gently, “victis honor” before she exhaled deeply into her, filling her with the tingling essence that came from deep within, and which merged into Raina’s mouth, down her throat, and followed the winding paths to that same deep place. Feeling the magical link ended, Berdine brushed their lips together once more, tenderly, before sitting up.

Warm brown eyes looked up at her intently, a bright twinkling in the corner of each. Whether the twinkling was from emotion or just the affect of being gone for a short while, Berdine would not hazard a guess, though the hand that was on her wrist suddenly squeezing it tight provided her with the answer.

“Hello.” Raina said softly.

“Hello.” Berdine echoed.

Her fingers brushed against Berdine’s cheek, and she felt the sticky film of blood between their touch.

“It’s not mine.” Berdine offered.

“Mm. I did not think it would be.”

Effortlessly Berdine slipped her arms under the petite Mord–Sith, and stood. Her eyes never once moved away from the clearing brown depths of Raina’s soul. As she rose to her full height, an arm settled on her shoulder, and a gloved hand clasped the back of her neck. With the utmost delicacy Berdine felt a finger tip caress the base of her skull, “I am fine.”

“I know.” Berdine replied, before she forced herself to look away from those eyes, and from the fading fear, and she began walking, holding Raina delicately in her arms.

She walked in the silence, and as the massacre was left further behind, as the air seemed to grow sweeter with the promise of spring, the symphony of the forest picked up where it had left off. The high pitch of crickets serenading matched perfectly to the lilting sounds of birds. Berdine’s blue eyes searched the road before them, focused on the journey, and knowing where she was going, having seen it from the corner of her eye as her horse had raced through these hills she thought of nothing but the comforting weight in her arms, and the pulse of the heart next to hers.

“I can walk.”

“I know.” Berdine replied as softly as her smile, when she looked into Raina’s mysteriously dark eyes, surrendering herself for just a moment.

The shrill call of the gray tipped swallow announced it’s coming, before the first drops of rain fell from the heavy sky above, the water that began to rinse the terror away.

Her fingers tightened around her neck and she leaned her face against Berdine’s chest, she could feel her body relaxing.

“Who were they?”

“Not sure.”

“But you checked?”

“Of course I did. I did not become a Mord–Sith a week ago, Raina.” She winked down at her. “They seemed ordinary, dressed as random villagers.”

“Your tone tells me there is a But there.”

“But, they were all branded.”

“D’Harans then.” Raina Grumbled.

“No.” While D’Haran soldiers did brand there specialized markings on their arms, and those in higher rank bore proudly the long lines of their station along their upper arms, what Berdine had seen was nothing close to that. “They were hiding the brands. Under their bracers.”

“What did they look like?”

“Hastily done, by iron it looked like. Two had crescent moons, or something similar, the other an x.”

“I am not familiar with that.”

“Nor am I. The weapons they were carrying were well used and efficient, just as soldiers would carry, but no documents, no seals.”

“Hmm. I do not smell smoke. Did you not burn the bodies?”

“No.”

“Berdine.”

“Let them come back as banelings. I will gladly kill them again. In fact, I am looking forward to it.” She growled.

Soothingly Raina’s fingers moved into her hair. “What are you thinking, your eyes are pensive.”

“Why would they shoot to kill Mord–Sith, here in the hills of D’Hara?” She shook her head. “We will be more careful.”

“You are always careful.”

“So careful you were killed.”

“And now I am alive. In your arms.”

Berdine smiled. “I know.”

Stepping off of the road, the rain increasing and cleansing the both of them, Berdine walked through knee high grass, which had just begun its annual extensions, always trying to reach above the trees, and never seeming to make it, but still, it tried each and every year.

In the distance she saw the shadow that she had remembered, and the hand on her neck tightened, and she looked down, seeing that Raina was still looking up at her, expressionless, but her eyes were clear again, focused. The sky blue of Berdine’s eyes brushed against the rich mountainous brown of Raina’s, pledging things that neither would ever say out loud. Because, Mord–Sith did not pledge such things out loud.

Reluctantly she looked away, as she stepped beside the small cottage.

“I can walk.”

“I know.” Berdine replied, not bothering with the closed door, instead she walked around to the side, where an entire wall had fallen some time ago. Much of the floor inside had been reclaimed by nature, and the roof was spotted with holes. But there was still enough cover from the rain. Under the thickest section of roof, Berdine kneeled, and set Raina down. When she moved, Berdine shook her head slowly, her eyes stern and serious. Raina blinked, accepting that this was something Berdine needed to do.

She pulled the small pack from her back, and looking inside found her water skin, and the rough cloth that she used to clean up. Setting those aside she pulled off her gloves, setting them on the ground, and then delicately she began unbuckling the thicker corset of leather around the brunette’s ribs. Setting it aside, she moved her hands to the ring of leather about Raina’s neck, “I can do that you know.”

“I know.”

Berdine then undid the laces along her side, and her eyes moved over the blood soaked skin that was reveled when she pulled it away, exposing the smooth expanse of flesh down to the curve of her waist. Her eyes took in all of the blood; the scent of it was familiar and infuriating all at once.

Raina’s skin twitched before trembling at the coldness of the water Berdine poured over her skin. Her eyes darkened significantly as she met Berdine’s stare. The look was a mixture of pain and that special look that seemed to burn in her brown eyes just for Berdine. Tenderly, keeping her eyes on Raina, she moved the rough cloth through the pooled water on her belly, skin constricting under her touch, as she moved the water over her upper chest, rinsing and wiping away the drying blood. Raina’s skin underneath the film of blood was unmarked.

One of the miracles of the breath of life. The death blow or wound never remained.

It was the wounds that did not kill that stayed, marring Raina’s supple skin. As Berdine moved the cloth over the blood, erasing it from the warming skin, her eyes and fingertips touched other scars, reminders of moments passed. Her jaws tightened as she saw the few lines placed on Raina’s flesh, lines that Berdine had placed there, under the order of that bastard.

Berdine’s eyes went round with memories and appreciation as the wet cloth moved under her breast, clearing away the blood and leaving the long jagged line of white flesh burning there. She felt her jaw tighten as her memory heard Raina’s scream, as her mind flashed the image of Raina’s body in chains, Darken Rahl moving his favorite blade against and then under her skin.

A moderate slap across her cheek brought her eyes to focus.

Raina’s hard stare punctuated the slap.

Berdine moved the damp cloth slowly over the crest of Raina’s breast, and could feel her nipple harden with the harsh and frozen touch.

The second slap was twice as hard as the first.

It elicited a growl from Berdine, who dropped her body on top of the petite woman under her, and their lips met fiercely. The skin under Berdine’s hands, as she gripped Raina’s shoulders, burned. The lips that met her’s were brutal and resilient, willful and joined her, battling in that sensual dance they both knew the steps to. Fingers cupped the sides of her face, and as their tongues brushed together Berdine could feel Raina’s body sigh. Not relax, just sigh. And in that slight implication Berdine was the one who relaxed, and Raina seemed to come alive under her, taking control of their kiss, and her body moved them over and across the dirt on the floor.

Looking up, as Raina released her lips, and sat up, now straddling Berdine, she got lost in deep dark eyes, which were wet with emotion. Gently Raina’s palm tapped her cheek.

“The past is over. Do not go there.” Raina ordered. “Don’t break my heart by going to that place.”

Understanding, Berdine nodded. The past was better left alone, written on decaying pages in the book of life lived, and then sequestered on the shelf. While it was hard for her, she did as Raina asked, and forced her mind to focus on the quickly moving hands that were pulling off bloody leather, watching with a dry mouth as more and more flesh was exposed. Flesh that she had almost lost. Flesh that she always craved. For all these years, it was moments like this that put her back together, that made her feel like more than a Mord–Sith.

Her hands, rough and calloused, delicately moved from Raina’s hips, over the definition of her stomach, her ribs, to cup her breasts. Berdine slowly sat up, her eyes plunging deep into the pools of brown calm before her mouth opened and she surrounded the left nipple, warming it with her breath.

“I am alive.” Raina’s voice danced in her ears. Berdine nodded, sucking the flesh deeper into her mouth. Fingers gripped her cheeks, pulling her away with a groan. The eyes looking at her flashed dangerously, and the lips pulled into the smile of mischievousness. “Do you want to play?”

The words and the implications sent tremors of desire through Berdine’s body. And though just the idea of playing Raina’s game made her body throb, she shook her head no.

“What do you want?”

Berdine wrapped her arms around her lovers body, pulling her tightly to her, and she hoped without words Raina would know, that she just needed to touch her, feel her, tenderly, to convince herself that she was really there.

Softly her voice confessed, “I want to lose myself in your shadows. I want to disappear under the dark waves of you and just be in that moment with you, feeling your life pulsing under my hands.”

“Then come with me.”

* * * * *

The light in the sky was turning from empty black, gaining intensity and lightening in color as Kahlan walked with exhausted legs back into her bed chamber. Cara lay on her side, her hand outstretched to where Kahlan’s body normally lay, her breathing shallow, but still calm. She was still asleep.

Kahlan released the deep breath of pent up worry at seeing her there, almost delicate in slumber. She stripped the blood soaked dressing gown from her shoulders, and tossed it into the fire. Next was the shift she pulled off, and it too caught the attention of the flames and they grew wild, before lowering to consume it. She looked over her skin, and saw nothing amiss. No marks.

No, the pain Kahlan felt was below the surface. Her muscles ached, pulled and abused. And that feeling calmed the rage.

Kahlan slipped beneath the blankets, and moved as close as she could get to Cara, wanting to wrap herself in the blonde’s arms.

And as if reading her mind, her heart, those strong arms did move and pull her close.

* * * * *

Richard and Zedd looked over the battle field outside of Anderith. Hurriedly gathered piles of the slain were burning, and weapons still serviceable were left lying on the churned up earth. It had taken them days to get here, Richard not realizing that the men he had seen on the far ridge were really leagues away and that there had been no easy way to cut through the hills of the lower Midlands.

Zedd calculated that they were still an hour outside of the city of Anderith, when they came across what was once a grazing field, and had found this, the remnants of a hastily pitched battle. There were maybe four pyres smoldering, but not all the bodies had been placed on them. There were still at least a dozen men scattered through this one field. Richard was squatting down beside one such man, and he pulled the large flag that had been in the dying man’s fist. He spread it out, and then looked around again at the carnage, a solemn look on his face.

The flag he recognized and he knew Zedd recognized it too. It was the flag that hung over every official building in the town of Southaven. In Westland.

“Zedd, we have to get word to Kahlan. If she hears of this, if they say it was an act of aggression by Westland she will strike back. And she would be wrong.”

“These men are Westland born Richard.”

“Yes, but they would not fight like this, not if something else wasn’t motivating them.”

“Motivate? Richard they came through here and butchered these villagers. Look around. What weapons do you see? I see pitch forks, machete and axes. The only swords I see are all ones forged with Westland steel.”

“Which is how I know it couldn’t be something they did on their own volition.” Richard said standing, slapping the dirt from his hands.

“You give too much credit to those you do not know.”

“Find a way to send her word, or you go to her. I don’t care. Chase and I will get to the bottom of this and find out the truth.” He was still confident that Chase would be waiting for him in Anderith. Just as he was confident that these men from Westland would never come here and kill innocent people. It just did not feel true to him.

Zedd harrumphed. “Something more is going on here Richard, and you need to stop blindly thinking all roads lead to Kahlan!”

“I think, while he is somewhat wrong, you should listen to your Wizard, Richard.”

He spun around, his eyes narrowing on the woman behind them.

“Nicci.” Zedd growled.

She smiled.

“I thought you would be dead and gone, basking in the torment of your master.” Richard said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword and regarding her carefully.

“Ah well, the past never truly stays dead and buried, now does it, Richard?”

* * * * *

“I would like to say this is a welcome surprise, but it never seems to be when you appear.” Kahlan said as she looked up, seeing Shota standing beside the fireplace in her anteroom.

“You look well, Mother Confessor.”

“Should I even wonder how you got in here?” Kahlan asked, moving to set her cup of tea on the small marble topped table beside her chair. She had been sitting, drinking tea, trying to dull the roar of her headache before Cara woke, when she had just felt something was different. Looking up she found Shota, her long auburn hair moving as if there was a wind moving through the room. There was not of course, it was just part of the witch woman’s power. Moving her hair, as well as the thin gossamer material of her dress.

Shota smiled, running her finger along the marble mantel, her fingernail scraping shrilly, as if she knew very well that Kahlan’s head was already on the edge of bursting. She had thought her actions in the night would have calmed the headache, but she had been terribly wrong.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“It appears as though I needed to come and see for myself.”

“See?”

“Lord Rahl.” Shota said as she turned, and looked Kahlan directly in the eyes. “The neutered man on the other side of the Palace is not Lord Rahl.”

“No. He is not.” Kahlan crossed her arms.

“How did you do it?” Shota asked in a soft voice. “Not that I suppose it matters. Not now.” Shota sighed, and with a flourish of her arms, moved the length of her long grey dress to the side, and kneeled before Kahlan. “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.” Shota’s forehead was pressed to the floor. “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.” Her tone took on the feeling of utter conviction in the words she was saying, “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

“What are you doing?” Kahlan asked, astonished.

Gradually Shota rose, her hands moving to her hair, straightening the long red tresses. “My devotions to you, Lord Rahl.”

“But why?”

“Did your little pet not ever tell you the reason why the people of D’Hara are bound to the Lord Rahl? Why all those thousands of years ago Alric Rahl had the foresight to create the bond?”

Kahlan watched her closely as Shota went to the small table, and poured herself a cup of tea. The witch woman’s eyes flickered for a moment, and Kahlan felt Cara coming rapidly from the bed room. Without even looking Kahlan knew that she held her Agiel.

“Call off your dog.”

“Dog? Let me bite you then.” Cara growled.

Kahlan looked at her gently, and with a sigh Cara stopped her approach. But she did not put her Agiel away.

“So, Cara.” Shota said her name as though it were the harshest word she could think of. “Did you not tell her of the true nature of the bond?”

“She has, as well as others.” Kahlan crossed her arms interrupting. “I know that it was manifested in the time of the Great War, by Alric Rahl. I know it has been passed down through the generations to all of the gifted Lord Rahl.”

“But why, Mother Confessor. Why?” Shota asked, and then took a sip of the tea.

Her eyes flashed at Kahlan, tasting it, before she looked at Cara. She looked down at the bitter tea, before she took another sip, this time she watched Kahlan closely. And Kahlan assumed that Shota already knew exactly what she was drinking and why, and she refused to care at this point. Shota knew she was Lord Rahl, what more would it hurt that she had deduced she was Mord–Sith as well?

“It was a defense of some sort.” Kahlan said lightly, admitting she did not know specifically why.

“It was to protect the people of D’Hara against the power of the Dream Walker.”

“That is true, but there hasn’t been any such creature for thousands of years.” Cara scoffed. “If you have heard otherwise? You have been listening to myths and stories told to scare children.”

“Is it? If only you were correct. But trust me; I did not abandon my home, to travel here because of a mere myth.”

Cara’s eyes rolled. “The wizards during the Great War took people who had the gift of dream casting and added their magic. Creating the Dream Walkers. But those with the ability to dream cast have long since died out.” Cara said setting her hands on her hips.

“That is not true.” It was Kahlan who spoke.

“Oh?”

“I was visited, once, by a dream sent by one such dreamcaster.”

“What dream?” Cara asked.

Kahlan looked at Cara with seriousness. “The first time I had the dream, the dream of the roses. There was a bird?” Her fingers went to the side of her head, as though it was hard for her to focus through the throbbing pain. “Zedd told me it was sent to me by a dreamcaster.”

“Interesting.” Shota tapped her long nailed finger to her lips.

“Why did those wizards create Dream Walkers?” Kahlan asked, still feeling unease, but something, perhaps instinct told her she needed to listen to what Shota had to say. Though she was well aware that she would take none of it at face value.

“Why indeed. Why create Confessors? Why create Mord–Sith? Why did those wizards create all of these things? Because they were tools to be used in war! How better to defeat your enemies than have a way to control them, and that was what they created in the Dream Walkers. They can slip in between the cracks of a person’s mind and wedge themselves there. The more powerful the Dream Walker, the more they can enter into a person’s mind at any time. If a Dream Walker wishes it, a person could be made to do anything against their will. Anything. No moment that person has ever experienced would be out of bounds to a Dream Walker. And the Dream Walker does not bother with the farmer or the kitchen help. The average person. Oh no. The gifted are who the Dream Walker seeks out. Because the gifted are extremely vulnerable. Easier to find, easier to control. And can you imagine? Either of you? Someone able to control another’s power, not by confessing them, not by taking their power inside, but merely by slipping into their mind? That is why. When they were first created, there was no protection against a Dream Walker and the wizards of the New World searched desperately for some way to protect themselves. Because as the Dream Walkers got stronger they could enter the minds of those very wizards who were fighting against them. It wasn’t until Alric Rahl created a bond to his people that a form of protection was available. The people’s bond to the Lord Rahl protected them from the Dream Walkers. It protected them then, and it protects them now.”

“This Dream Walker has been plaguing you.” Kahlan said softly, now understanding why Shota had kneeled and given the devotion.

“Yes. The things she promised to do to me, the things she wanted me to do.” Her face turned horrendous with the glow of hate. “If I were any less of a sorceress she may have had me. But no, she is still too far from me to truly control me.”

“You gave the devotion.” Cara said, slipping her Agiel into it’s holster, also understanding the implications of what, if true, Shota was saying. “But you are not of D’Hara. How can you be protected by the bond? How can Kahlan for that matter?”

“Those with the blood of D’Hara are protected, you are correct. But those of us who come to Lord Rahl, in person or just in thought, and devote ourselves totally to Lord Rahl, to the trust and protection afforded, the bond develops inside of us as well. Not enough for us to ever be able to feel when Lord Rahl is near, but enough to keep our minds protected.” She took another sip of the tea, before setting it down. “That you are Lord Rahl, means you are protected, Mother Confessor. But the moment you lose the bond? You must immediately devote yourself to the new Lord Rahl. Be it Richard or whomever. You must swear your fidelity to them, and believe in their cause.”

“What if I am at odds with them and their beliefs?” Kahlan asked.

“Then you will fall prey to the Dream Walker. That is not something you want to have happen. I would not wish that fate on my worst enemy, and while we have had our differences, Kahlan, you cannot let that happen. Not ever. If a Dream Walker was able to control the Mother Confessor? All life would be lost.”

Part 9

Kahlan sat; her blue eyes clouded with the pain in her head which Cara could see visibly, as she leaned back in the large blue chair. Her hands were resting on the arms, her fingers gripping the edges, probably unaware that she seemed to be hanging on. Her entire body was still unyielding, and had been from the moment Cara had rushed into the anteroom, when she felt the unfamiliar magical vibration in the air. Kahlan seemed to be considering what Shota had said.

Cara clenched her jaw, anger mounting in her chest, at the thought of Kahlan being blindly devoted to any Lord Rahl. Watching her closely she noticed the way Kahlan’s face turned hard, how her back curved slightly, as it pressed further back into the deep blue velvet of her chair. Slowly she lifted her hand, and tucked some strands of soft shadowed hair behind her ear.

“Do you think it would be so easy for someone to control me?” Kahlan asked Shota with a voice low and even.

“Easy?” Shota laughed. “There is nothing easy about what this Dream Walker is attempting to do.”

“And, devotion to Lord Rahl would be the only thing standing between the power of the Dream Walker and someone’s mind?” Kahlan asked, leaning slightly to the side, lifting her hand, and moving her index finger across her smooth lips. Her pupils dilated slightly and then tightened, as if; just for a moment her mind took her somewhere else. Deep in thought, Cara assumed, watching her very closely.

“That is what my visions tell me.”

“Well, don’t think me harsh when I say that I put about as much stock into your visions as I do the weather predictions from the blind man who paces before the city’s southern gate.” Kahlan snapped.

“Believe or don’t.” Shota shrugged, but her eyes went hard. “You must either remain as you are; remain in custody the power of Lord Rahl.”

“Or?”

“Or whoever acquires the power of the bond after you, you must devote yourself to them. Faithfully, committed, and true.”

It made Cara internally shudder slightly, the thought that if there was some creature in the world who could push themselves into her mind, or worse, into Kahlan’s mind, to control them, that the only reprieve would be to devotion one’s self to Lord Rahl, no matter who that Lord Rahl was.

Memories of giving devotions; of her forehead to the ground, devoting herself to Darken Rahl, as her insides ached with fear and hatred paraded through mind. Repeatedly giving herself, through the words and sentiment, of the devotion to him, even with the pain of his touch radiating on her skin, with the cuts from the whip he wielded bleeding beneath her leather. Vowing the protect him, and follow him implicitly while killing for him, abusing others for him. The devotion and the way of the Mord–Sith was clear, and she had known she hated Darken Rahl as she gave it, yet, she gave it anyway.

Devotions and the belief in Lord Rahl, in his ability to protect all people from the harm of magic, that in his light the people of D’Hara shone and thrived was something instilled from birth. Of the childhood recollections Cara did have; twisted with the smells of home and sounds of family, were the fervor and that blind loyalty. Children learned to say the words of the devotion before they knew the meaning, at the same time they learned words like Mother, Father, and love. It was never questioned. Even as Mord–Sith, having suffered abuse of every imaginable sort at the hands of Darken Rahl, Cara was still devoted, still followed through with the ignorant dedication. That devotion became the collar around her neck, the chains that tied her to Lord Rahl and his desires. For years she followed the path Lord Rahl directed her upon. Cara had known absolution in the loyalty to Lord Rahl. Accepting all he said and believed as her own, because in his wisdom she was humbled, her life was to be lived in the service of him. No deed was beyond her doing, when done in his name. Breaking, killing, manipulating, all of it done in his name, and with the belief that she was doing the only thing she could; pleasing her master.

That thought terrified her. That there could be someone like Darken Rahl, who could control the power of the bond in the future; that Kahlan would have to submit with absolute devotion to another Lord Rahl. Her blood chilled, knowing that if the Lord Rahl was a man like Darken or his father before him, that Kahlan would be collared, shackled, and restrained by the Lord Rahl’s will.

What would be worse, devotion to an evil man, or being controlled by someone with evil intent? Or were they the same?

Perhaps the witch woman was wrong. Perhaps Shota feared something that seemed larger and stronger than it was? That these dreams, for whatever reason were not the harbinger of a looming darkness, that just perhaps Shota was wrong.

Her eyes twinkled with conviction, she knew they did. She could feel her inner voice chanting over and over that she would find a way, to protect Kahlan from having to give herself to a cause she did not believe in, from being shackled to someone else’s whims. She would find a way.

She turned to Shota and voiced this concern. “If she remains as she is, if she remains Lord Rahl, she is safe?”

Shota looked down at the stone floor, her voice low, cautious. “All it would take was for someone to snap that man’s neck.” Her eyes searched Cara’s face. “She is only Lord Rahl for as long as that man lives. And when I saw him? He was barely hanging on to life.”

Cara’s eyes shot to Kahlan, whose expression was unchanged.

“You both can do whatever it is you wish.” Shota shrugged. “I merely felt the need to remind you, Mother Confessor,” the title lashed out of her mouth like the tail of a snake. “That when the thin bond you have to that eunuch in the tower is broken? When you are no longer in control of the bond?” She slapped her hands together. “That is when the Dream Walker will come for you. And she will have you.”

“This is where you threaten me, then?” Kahlan asked.

Cara watched as Shota nodded slowly. The promise was there, and none of them felt the need to voice what was so obvious.

“So. Wizards made a Dream Walker three thousand years ago.” Cara’s voice stressed. “I doubt there is either a need or a group of Wizards who could make another.”

“Mother Confessor, perhaps you would care to explain to your Mord–Sith, that what was made once, can be brought to the world again, without the influence of man.” Shota replied.

Kahlan looked at her hands, for a moment, a look of sadness in the corners of her eyes, as if hating this particular thread of logic. “Magda Searus was made. She was the first Confessor. Her power passes through the generations, through the blood of daughters born.” Slowly Kahlan lifted her eyes back up, their blue was cloudy, pained.

Cara’s jaws clenched. “Fine! Alright. Fine. So. If there are all of these Dream Walkers being borne why have we not crossed paths with them before?”

“Not borne… similar to Confessors, but different. The power lay dormant. Until things were in alignment. Now there is one.” Shota crossed her arms for a moment, her face looking pensive. “There have always been dream casters; that their existence did not reach you, is more to do with the barrier, the separation between the Old and New Worlds. In this, the dream casters have kept themselves hidden. Plus, as you both well know, sometimes knowledge can harm.”

Kahlan narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, harm?”

“Things better left learned, versus taught. That is how you are able to love…Cara. Do you know how many generations of Confessors would have done anything to have what you have now?”

Kahlan blushed, just slightly, but Cara noticed.

“But, a lesson not learned, having to be explained…”

“It would not be the same.” Kahlan finished.

Cara crossed her arms. “So, have you seen this Dream Walker?”

“Some times. Mostly I feel intent. But.” Shota looked to Kahlan.

“But?” Cara asked.

“The image of her I see seems different than her intent. Kahlan, I too have seen the young girl with white eyes. Dream Walkers have black eyes. From lid to lid their eyes are like liquid shadows. In my dreams her eyes are white.”

Kahlan nodded. “Her eyes are white in my dreams as well.”

“And young?”

“Very.”

“Do you know who this Dream Walker is?”

“My visions only tell me she is still a child, just on the cusp of womanhood.”

“A child?” Cara snapped. All of this concern was over a child.

“Oh yes. But not any child. This is a very powerful child, and one who is not acting for her own cause, but one that is being manipulated.”

Cara paced, her eyes downcast to the floor, catching patterns in the blue, white and silver of the intricately woven rug, and the hints of sparkling flakes in the soft gray stone floor. A child would make Kahlan pause, if they ever came to a moment in time where they needed to remove this child from the world of the living. Kahlan would hesitate.

In hesitation lay failure.

Cara felt a tingling on the back of her neck, feeling the faint touch of Kahlan’s gaze, and it was almost as if, in her mind she could hear her soft voice telling her to calm down. Cara stopped pacing, her eyes slowly lifting, and she momentarily lost herself in the thick blue eyes that had been looking at her. Her heart trembled at the look of concern and pain in them.

“You’ve been visited by the Dream Walker for some time now?” Kahlan asked Shota, but her eyes remained with Cara for one moment longer.

“Since last spring. It… It made no sense to me, then.” Shota confessed. “Though now I think that I know why.”

Cara watched as Kahlan waited, patiently, the fingers on her right hand twitching slightly.

“Was that when Richard and then you traveled to the Old World?”

Kahlan slowly nodded, her eyes moved to Cara, for just a moment. That was when Leo had joined their quest, for a short while. That was before Cara had pushed Kahlan to face her feelings, and unwittingly forced Cara to face her own. “We went to the Palace of the Prophets.”

“He, and all of you, wiggled through a crack in the barrier between the Old World and the New. The boundary between Old and New, it allowed this, for one reason or another, but I suspect that when Richard left the Old World, he was specifically different and he did not wiggle back through a crack, he kicked through the barrier in the Valley of Perdition.” Shota explained.

“We all were there.” Cara interjected.

“Yes, and while that would have caused a ripple in the barrier, Richard shattered it.”

“How?” Cara asked incredulously.

“Well he escaped the valley for one. And most importantly he had given his gift, his Han, to another. He initially went through the barrier, as he should be, he went through again as something different. He altered prophecies and existence as we know it.” Shota said sadly.

“He… he gave his gift to Sister Nicci.” Kahlan realized.

“Who we know has been through the barrier since.” Cara added.

“So, Shota. What is it that you suggest we do?”

“Do, Mother Confessor? We find this evil thing, this Dream Walker and we destroy it.”

Cara flinched for Kahlan, who kept her face unreadable.

“If you suspected this, why had you not come forward sooner? We have crossed paths, you and I, between then and now. So what is motivating you?”

“The dreams are worse; I was beginning to feel the intent of them in my waking moments. Urging me to do things.”

“What things, specifically?”

“I was being urged to kill Richard.”

Cara watched as Kahlan closed her eyes just for a moment. “‘Richard went to see you. This winter. He sent word to me that you were not in Agaden Reach.”

Shota rolled her eyes. “I was already on my way here. One can’t just wish one’s self over great distances. It is not as though we can merely have some magical mode of transportation to get from place to place. Things take time. Especially those things worth having.” Shota tapped the mantel, and the sharp tone of her nail on stone seemed to agitate Kahlan’s headache.

Shota’s eyes fixated on Kahlan, and then she purposefully pulled her fingernail across the marble, creating a high pitched screech. It caused Cara’s skin to twitch, and Kahlan moaned softly in pain.

Moving suddenly, Shota was beside Kahlan, and fear slipped through Cara’s skin, just as the witch woman’s hand moved over Kahlan’s forehead.

Shota had moved too fast. Cara had not expected it, and had hesitated.

Cara growled, “Don’t touch her”, as she stepped closer, to attack Shota, but Kahlan held up her hand.

The look on the Mother Confessor’s face was one of calm, and almost resignation. “It’s alright.” Kahlan blinked up at Shota. Her face seemed to loosen under the faint touch of Shota’s hand. Cara relaxed the smallest amount, understanding, seeing that for some reason Shota had removed Kahlan’s headache. Kahlan sighed a thank you.

“A momentary reprieve. It will not last.” Shota explained.

Cara watched, glad that Kahlan’s pain was gone, though it was a small consolation to knowing the headaches were back so soon, and that she seemed helpless to stop them.

Kahlan grabbed her hand, and Cara turned sharply, her glance dipping to their joined hands, then to Kahlan’s blue eyes.

“We have been through so much together already, whatever comes, Cara, we will get through that as well.”

* * * * *

“You… are not.” Her forehead furrowed slightly, as she looked at Richard standing before her, his face hard, his eyes searching her face. That she had been incorrect in her assumptions was only slightly unsettling. If she allowed herself a moment to consider it, Nicci knew that she should have known. She should have expected that if anyone could unburden themselves from unwanted destiny and magic, it would be Richard Rahl. She had come in search of him for two reasons, that the first reason was no longer applicable, well, Nicci would accept that. “Well. Not that it matters.”

“What are you talking about?” Richard asked, his fingers tightening on the hilt of the Sword of Truth. Such an ingenious weapon. To have something that should be inanimate, be instead alive with hate, and knowledge. It, like many other things created at the time of the Great War fascinated her. Things that on the surface appeared to be one thing, with one duty; when beneath the surface they were so much more.

Nicci was very well versed in things that were more than they appeared on the surface.

The wizard shifted his weight as he stared at her. But Nicci was not concerned. While a Wizard of the First Order, he was very powerful, amazingly so. However, the strength of his Han did not even compare to her own. Not even close.

“Nothing Richard, clearly.” She clasped her hands before her.

He grabbed her arm sharply. “Why are you here?” The way he looked at her was refreshing; it was with distrust and the faint coloring of malice in his eyes. Nicci was forever used to being under the glance of men, the heavy weight of lust in their eyes. It was so common that it was barely discernable from any other glance; she recognized it and then ignored it. Their lust was nothing to her. Just as they themselves were nothing to her. All that mattered was the purpose, the work of the divine. Be that the divine of the Creator as it was in her youth, or the work of the Keeper as it had been in her life. Nicci now had a different purpose, one that was establishing, and growing daily. The way Richard looked at her was refreshing. The domineering nature of his fingers around her arm was not.

She looked at his hand on her arm, and while it was annoyingly tight, it was not pain. She doubted Richard knew what pain felt like, true pain. Even his time spent under the caress of an Agiel was nothing close to the pain Nicci knew. Not that it mattered. Pain was merely a feeling. Feelings. Pain or pleasure. They were the same, and without use.

“I came to find you, but apparently you can no longer help me. But I can still help you.”

“Nicci, what do you mean?” the Wizard asked, as he moved his hand toward Richard, a clear sign that he thought Richard should remove his hand. Richard did not heed that request. Nicci had not expected him to.

Her lips fell into a thin line, regarding the wizard. “What is more important, is why are you wasting time running around the country side?”

“We heard there were problems in Anderith, we came to–”

“Problems? This?” She interrupted, moving her eyes over the small field. “This is not a problem, this is just a reality. There was a battle, albeit small. Now it is over. You are chasing shadows, not realizing the sun has set and in the darkness of twilight you are surrounded by them.”

“Riddles?” Richard growled.

“No.” She shook her head. “Why would I bother with that?” She looked back to Richard, searching his pensive expression. There was a cloud in his eyes that she had not seen when last she looked at him, when before he had been focused on defeating the Keeper, when he had told her that she mattered. No, something was certainly different now. She was fairly certain she knew exactly what that was. “Where is Kahlan?” And with that question, he did release his hold on her arm, and stepped back, glaring at her with the added color of contempt to his eyes. Under his stare, Nicci felt the smallest amount of pride.

“What do you care?” His voice asked, but the tone was sharp. He wanted to grab a hold of her again, this time to shake. His desire to lash out at her physically was written on his expression.

“I don’t.” She looked up at him, feeling her lips flash ever so slightly with a smile. “I just notice she and the Mord–Sith are absent.”

“Notice that there is not an Agiel pointed at your heart.” The wizard said insolently.

She rolled her eyes to him. She knew the kiss of an Agiel. It, like everything else, was just a tool of pain, and pain was a feeling that did not matter.

“You will not speak of her. You know nothing about her.” Richard stepped closer to her, and she could smell not only the leather of his clothes, and the sun scalded into his sweat, but his contempt for her. His eyes flashed with the pain of unrequited emotions. In that look, in the smell of desperation, she knew now why the Mother Confessor was not with him. Nicci had expected nothing less. While to her Richard Rahl was an enigma, a fascinating puzzle of a mind that was free of strict indoctrination, there were aspects of him that were as common as a house fly. His blind lust fueled devotion to Kahlan had been apparent, and she had of course used that to her advantage when it suited her. However, Nicci was always aware that while Richard looked to Kahlan as a child to the Creator, Kahlan looked to Richard like a horse to the bit in her mouth, the reins of duty pulling tight. That the Mord–Sith was no longer guarding Richard, well that was either because Richard had renounced his birth right as Lord Rahl, and

she was off fulfilling her duty with her new master; or, Nicci felt the twinge of truth in thinking that where the Mother Confessor was, the fiery Mord–Sith would be close at hand.

“Really Richard. You should not be so hasty, and dare I say, overreacting? In the book of your life? The chapter with Kahlan in it was only half written, your half, and it is over.”

“Why are you here? Have you come all this way to harass me merely over the fact the Kahlan decided to turn her back on me?”

Nicci laughed. “Hardly. What does she matter to me?”

“You brought her up.” Richard crossed his arms.

Slowly Nicci moved her eyes to the Wizard, to watch as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Gently she sighed, seeing that Richard was only getting more childish.

“I made a passing comment. It is you who latched on to the subject of her. While you should, perhaps be asking me why I have come all this way, searching you out, you instead find the need to have an argument with me. Richard, I do not care. I do not care that she is not here, nor do I care that your… feelings seem hurt. Really you disappoint me.”

“You are nothing. I disappoint you? You don’t know me. You are a Sister of the Dark.”

“I was a Sister of the Dark. I have broken my vow to the Keeper.” She said evenly, but Richard talked over her.

“When ever you appear it is for some nefarious goal you have set for yourself. Some twisted ideology. You should not concern yourself with me, with Kahlan, or the fact that she and I are separated.”

Nicci had heard enough. He did not listen, he did not think. He was not being the Seeker. And she needed for him to be just that. To be the man he was supposed to be. If even the Wizard, his own grandfather, was cowering to his sad broken hearted whims, then it would be up to her to shatter his pathetic illusions. He had more important things to concern himself with.

She took a step closer to him, her light blue eyes narrowing in seriousness. “It’s not enough to leave her side, you have to leave the idea of her as well. She will never be who you expected; she will never be what you wanted. You must learn Richard, that people are unique. You may break someone, but you will never remake them into the image you desire simply because you have the pieces of them at your feet. Humans are not malleable. Not like that. They are distinctly what they are. So, you could continue to dream of the Kahlan you want at night, or you can embrace the Kahlan she is, with the understanding that she will never love you as you want. She will never be the wife and mother of your children. Love her for who she is now, but don’t ever expect to find happiness nor peace if you love her for who you blindly thought she was.”

“You don’t know her. How could you, when you are just a murderer and a diluted thief? Someone like you can’t even comprehend her.” He snapped.

“I know women. I know their focus. I know what it is like to live as a woman with power, when the world looks down at you and sets you on a pillar at the same time. You forget things that do not please you. You forget I am almost two hundred years old, Richard. And while there is much life I have not lived, in comparison to you? I have lived lifetimes. Do not for one moment view me as some blushing girl, looking up at the Seeker with adoration.” The last words were spoken softly, without passion, and in doing so Richard’s eyes went as wide as if she had slapped him.

“I…Nicci I’m.”

“Please. Do not attempt to say you are sorry for hurting my feelings.” She laughed. “The older you get the more you learn that feelings get in the way and are of no use. That, Seeker, is the lesson you should be taking to heart.”

She watched as his face froze for a moment, as the look that she had been hoping to see flushed in his cheeks and finally the twinkling eyes of the Seeker shown through. While his jaws may have clenched in some sort of emotional reaction to her words, the analytical mind was processing, was twitching, as were the fingers of his hand on the hilt of his sword.

He released a low sigh, and turned from her, turning his back to her. As he walked away, she thought it interesting. Just as the way he looked at her was interesting, so to was the fact that he had just turned his back on her, probably the singularly most powerful sorceress in the Midlands, without concern that she would bring him harm.

That was the enigma that was Richard Rahl. That was the Seeker she had come all this way for. His feet took him amid bodies, and paced him as he thought. She hoped he would think of what she said, and learn that it was time for him to put boyhood emotions away, and learn to be a man.

Softly, without turning she asked, “Wizard, a word?”

“That was two.” He said. “I don’t like you.”

Slowly she turned, her head moving to the side as she regarded him. She laughed sadly. “Like? Like doesn’t matter to me. Why should it?”

“What do you want?”

“Want?” She thought for a moment. “I want for nothing, save death. And in time I will receive that. Gladly and gratefully. Your dislike? It should be pleased, that delayed justice will come to me in death, at breaking my vow to the Keeper. Before then, I am compelled to do things.”

“Such as?” the Wizard asked suspiciously.

“There is someone in my mind, attempting to urge me. To have me act. There is this need to kill both you and Richard.” As she knew he would, the Wizard flinched, and his hand moved to harness his power. “Put your hand down. That I feel this need? That is now I know it is not me. That it is another. Something is placing these thoughts inside of me.” Her icy eyes looked at him. “To sense that I should kill Richard is a sign of being controlled.” She paused for just a moment. “I am not to be controlled. And so I will do the opposite. I will protect him. And to do that, I need to make Richard strong.”

The old man’s thick brows moved together has he considered her words, and then they spread wide, as wide as his eyes became. “You mean Richard’s Han His power?”

“Yes. I need your help, to return it to him. You are a wizard, his grandfather; perhaps you can help him so that the power does not kill him.”

“That will take time. Time I feel that we do not have.”

“Then we should start now.”

Ch 8

“Let us see how the citizens of Aydindril are fairing this fine morning.” Kahlan said with determination as she was about to step through the large doors that opened before her, and into the receiving hall.

Shota had left them, saying that she would be in Aydindril, and would return soon. Kahlan was still not sure how she felt, not only about what she had said, but even the idea that there could be a magical being like a Dream Walker. While she believed that there were creatures and forms of magic in this world that she knew nothing about, it still seemed beyond imagining. That someone cloud slip through space and time, and enter another’s mind. That they could see through another’s eyes, feel through their skin. Merely using powerful magic nestled in intent.

The hand to the back of her neck brought her from her thoughts. The warm leather sheathed hand pulled her close as Cara stepped into her, pelvises meeting the beat before Cara’s lips moved against Kahlan’s. The kiss, unexpected shook her soul, as Cara seemed to. In the kiss she felt as though Cara was taking what she needed while giving Kahlan just as much in return. Kahlan, forgetting where it was that her feet stood, met the kiss, and met the need, her body trembling, her lips moving with Cara’s, pressing against her mouth with the delicious passion of wanting so much more, but loving the tension that stretched in her muscles, the tension of knowing this one kiss, this one press of lips, was all that would sustain her for the hours to come.

Breaking the kiss, her eyes opened, and she looked into the warm loving blue green of Cara’s eyes.

“You aren’t coming?” Kahlan asked, realizing the reason for the kiss.

“No.”

“What will you be doing?” Kahlan asked, taking a slow breath, to calm her rapidly beating heart.

“Things.” Cara half smiled.

“Things?”

“Yes, Kahlan, I too can be doing things. While you sit in your chamber signing papers and giving orders, some of us have things to be doing as well.”

She couldn’t help herself. “What sort of things? Mord–Sith things?” Kahlan asked with a smile, leaning into her mate.

“Mord–Sith.” Cara shook her head as she lifted her arm up to gently press the back of the hand against Kahlan’s flushed cheek. “Let’s just say I will be doing things, important things.”

The insistent press of her knuckles across Kahlan’s jaw line telegraphed Cara’s intent. This was punctuated as sea green eyes fixated on her, and Cara brushed their lips together. Her full bottom lip reached up to caress the ridge of Kahlan’s upper lip in such a way that she felt it everywhere. Like an insistence of closeness, pulsing through her skin. Then gone.

With a soft smile, Cara turned away, her eyes lids lowing slowly to rest half closed, her expression one of deep affection. Then she turned completely, and began walking away, down the long hall, looking once over her shoulder.

Their eyes met with longing and promises for a later.

People moved out of her way, in a flurry of limbs, as Cara sauntered through the crowded hallway, an untamable force of will, wisdom and desire.

* * * * *

Berdine growled low in frustration, closing the book over her finger.

“That is your ‘Damnit Cara’ growl.” Raina’s voice said with understanding from behind her.

“There are specific ones?” She asked, turning around.

“Oh yes.” Raina said, as she held up an apple for her horse, who took it tentatively, and Raina smiled as their eyes met. The mid day sun was muted here, held at bay by the thick canopy of fresh green leaves. Still, a ray of sunlight managed to find the side of Raina’s body, highlighting her dark hair, causing it to glisten in its tight braid.

“She… just.”

Her dark eyes twinkled, “Mmhm. See, I told you, Cara growl.”

Berdine returned the smile softly, taking a step closer to her. “She has ordered us to not only stay in D’Hara, but to continue north.”

“All the way back to the temple.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

“Well we have horses this time, and the weather is getting warmer each day.” Raina’s fingers left the muzzle of her horse, and she turned to face Berdine completely, taking the two steps needed to match those same two steps Berdine took, so that they met in the warming shadows under the maples and oak trees around them.

“You are just trying to make me feel better.” She sighed, looking up at the trees, feeling the weight of worry for Cara settling on her shoulders.

“I could do that too, if you would let me.” Raina said softly, as her hand, tentatively set on Berdine’s wrist. Berdine’s head snapped to her, looking at the way her brown eyes darkened, as she gazed up at her coyly from under her brows. Berdine swallowed, that look, no matter how often she saw it, had the ability to stop her breath and wrap its fingers around her heart.

The fingers on her wrist moved lower, to the book in her hand, which, as she was completely lost in the beginnings of the storm she saw churning in Raina’s eyes, Berdine relinquished to her.

She watched as Raina opened the book, and read the words scrawled there. Short. An order. Berdine felt a smile pulling at her lips as Raina shrugged, closed the small leather book, and then walked back to the horse. The woods were thick with the sounds of birds and other creatures caught up in the business of living, of waking and finding winter over, and spring upon them. A woodpecker started in the distance, and all of the sound seemed a natural and fitting symphony that Raina’s hips moved in time to, until she reached the horse, and slipped the book into her saddle bag.

She did not turn around, but her left hand did settle on her hip, before slowly her palm caressed over her brown leather. It was her unconscious sign, the sign that she was thinking of something. When the thought of what that something may be flashed into Berdine’s mind, she smiled.

As they had stopped the night before in this small clearing, the ground was trampled flat by their feet, but there was a moderately sized rock, which they had each sat upon during the night, when it was their turn to keep watch. This, if one asked Berdine, was the only problem with the two of them traveling alone. They were never allowed to sleep at the same time, together. While one slept, the other would watch over her. It was enough, Berdine knew, that they were together. However, thoughts of moments when they had slept side by side, limbs entwined haunted her as she stood watch every night over the petite brunette.

She watched the way Raina’s strong shoulders moved, as if her breathing had increased ever so slightly, and it was enough to make her own breathing increase. It was enough to make her slip into thoughts that did not involve Confessors or Mord–Sith, did not have to do with Lord Rahls and Seekers. No. Berdine’s thoughts were suddenly only of Raina.

As Berdine sat on the rock, Raina turned to look at her, her brows lifting in question. A question because they had been about to mount their horses and begin the day’s journey. Berdine looked at her hands for a moment, the soft gloves covering them, and slowly pulled them off. First one, and then as she removed the other she looked up at Raina, her eyes she knew darkening.

“I don’t like going to the temple. It seems a waste of time.” She offered.

The dark braid that hung over Raina’s shoulder was tossed back, as she quickly covered the distance between the two of them. Raina sat on her lap, facing her, her thighs hugging her sides. “A waste of time?” Her voice purred. “Perhaps we will get lucky and it will be abandoned. Can you imagine? The baths? The soft beds?” She brushed her lips against Berdine’s, keeping her swirling dark eyes locked onto Berdine’s blues. Berdine whimpered at the brush of their lips. Raina looked at her with seriousness, and love as her lips formed the words, “The white room.” Those three words sent spiraling tendrils of thick arousal through her body. Her hands gripped at Raina’s hips. “You do remember the white room, don’t you, Berdine?”

She remembered.

Her thoughts spun her through time, and she could see everything in that room, feel it all, smell it, and taste it. She remembered the look of white Mord–Sith leather laying on the black marble floors, shed by them, as unnecessary armor. She remembered the soft throb in her hand, from the knife cut, from their joining ceremony. Berdine remembered laying on the softness of the white leather chaise, of Raina’s darkness contrasting beautifully with the white of the walls. She remembered as she used her hair to caress the length of Berdine’s skin. She could remember how she ached for more. How her fingertips burned until they were soothed by touching Raina. How her mouth was dry until their lips met, tongues explored. She moaned softly as she remembered Raina moving with determination as her body rocked between Berdine’s thighs, as Raina’s mouth consumed hers, as passion filled their needy hands and hungry eyes.

“I do.” Berdine huskily responded, slowly opening her eyes, returning her to the reality of the forest, and the beautiful woman on her lap.

Raina set her elbows on her shoulders, and looked deeply into her eyes. “Then perhaps? This journey will be pleasant. Perhaps.” She brushed their lips together again, still softly, but this time with slightly more pressure. Berdine could feel the spark of need passing between them. “Perhaps.” Raina whispered setting their foreheads together. “This can be our reward, perhaps we can… spend time in the white room again?”

Even if she had wanted to speak, Berdine found her voice gone, and all she could do was tighten her fingers on Raina’s hips and pull her even closer, until every inch of their torsos were touching, moving together as their lungs moved quicker, as their hearts began beating stronger together. She buried her face to Raina’s neck, inhaling deeply, taking in every nuance of scent from her skin, as her body temperature increased, her mind dizzy with the remembering, her muscles ached at the thought of experiencing, and as her soul expanded with the feeling of loving the woman in her arms.

Knowing fingers moved to hold the back of her head, as Berdine’s mouth opened, and her tongue caressed the flesh, as her lips pressed. Raina moaned as Berdine’s teeth pressed down, as she bit her neck just above the thick leather collar.

“Distract me, Berdine.” Raina moaned softly.

Berdine let her hands move up the petite brunette’s back, pressing their bodies closer together. For a moment she wished she did have magic, so that she could will away the inches of leather separating their flesh.

She leaned back slightly, looking up at Raina’s face, seeing the lightning in the storm brewing in her dark brown eyes. “Always.” Berdine said. They both knew, that when they could find moments such as this, they would take them. They always had, and Berdine knew that they always would.

Her hand cupped Raina’s cheek, as she looked at her for a moment more, feeling her own skin turning a dark shade of red under the thrilling gaze of her eyes.

Forcefully she pulled Raina to her, their lips meeting in a hard crush, teeth pressing against lips, and Raina kissed her back, just as strongly, as she dug her finger tips into the back of Berdine’s skull. Her tongue teased against Berdine’s bottom lip, before she opened to her with a sigh, feeling the caress of it against her own, swallowing down the sweet flavor of her mouth, as they kissed one another with the ever present and now ever growing flames of need.

Berdine pulled her lips away, and panting stared deeply at Raina’s bruised lips, before leaning in again, and taking her bottom lip into her mouth, suckling it, brushing her tongue against it.

Hands moved over her body, moving between them, and she could hear metal being unlatched, and she plunged her tongue into Raina’s mouth, drinking in the flavors and textures of her, as much as she could, until Raina pulled away.

“Strip.” She commanded, as her brown eyes flashed dangerously, and she stood up, hands moving to her own buckles on her leather. There was no room for debate or disobedience in that one word.

In the filtered morning light, brown leather fell quickly. The sounds of the forest seemed to fade, until, for Berdine there was no sound but that of Raina pulling in air, there was no sight but her tongue moving over her bottom lip with anticipation, there was no sensation but the feeling of Raina’s flesh against her own as their bodies came crashing together. Mouths met again, in desperation, hands explored and nails scratched pathways onto skin.

Berdine pulled Raina with her, down to the soft leaves of the forest floor, not breaking the contact of their lips, as tongues danced, as their breath mingled, becoming joined. Her skin tingled and pulsed, her nipples tightened as she felt the grazing of Raina’s against them. Urgently her thighs parted, and her lover settled between them, her kisses becoming deeper, and the way Raina’s tongue moved inside of her mouth she could feel it as though that tongue was buried in her center.

Raina moved with a wild rhythm, without restraint, without hesitation. Passion and primal need filled both of them, as Raina thrust her fingers deeply inside of Berdine. A low keening sound came from Berdine’s lips as her own hand moved between their bodies, and her fingers found the luscious wetness between Raina’s legs. Her hand found its home, and Raina gasped at the sensation, of feeling Berdine moving inside of her, as her hungry mouth found scalding hot skin. They began moving together, Berdine firmly began sucking hard above Raina’s breast, marking her and taking her in kind.

She felt herself tighten around the fingers thrusting quickly inside of her, and she growled Raina’s name, as her hips bucked with the pleasure of being filled, as her palm pressed against her lover’s throbbing clit, while Berdine picked up the very same thrusting pace that Raina had set for them both. Her eyes rolled back with the exquisite pleasure that increased with each stroke of Raina’s fingers inside of her. She felt her body tremble with desire at the feeling of being surrounded by Raina’s tight, wet center as well. Pressing deeper Berdine watched in awe as Raina’s neck fell back, and Berdine was sure she heard a howl burst from Raina’s full lips, rustling the trees around them, and in affect driving her on, increasing her need impossibly, as her teeth pulled at skin, as her blood screamed Raina’s name, as she broke, shattering, biting harder just above Raina’s heart, marking her lover.

* * * * *

The smell of spring, the grass and the pollen on the wind could not compare to the sweetness of Raina’s skin she decided, as Berdine pressed her face to her shoulder and breathed in deeply.

Lips pressed against her neck, as she felt fingers twirling a few loose strands of her hair. Berdine leaned her body closer to Raina, enjoying the way she fit against her perfectly.

“I can see it now.”

“What?” Berdine asked her voice still passionately low.

“How Cara and Kahlan fell in love, traipsing through the woods together.” Raina smiled shyly. “I like the scent of leaves in your hair.”

* * * * *

As she saw a flash of red passing by the open door of her chamber, Kahlan called out to the brunette. “Rikka?” Her eyes stayed on the doorway, as she watched the Mord–Sith step backwards and looked inside her chamber, at all the papers on the desk, at the open jar of ink, and Kahlan suspected the long quill in her hand, before Rikka’s eyes check the corner, where Drefan sat, staring down at his hands.

Rikka’s brow raised in question.

“May I ask you something?”

“Mother Confessor. You do not ask that. You ask the question.”

She smiled softly, beseechingly, and Rikka sighed before stepping into the room. “Is he behaving?”

“Oh, yes. Being a quiet boy this morning.” Whether he wanted to or not, Kahlan thought. Her nerves were still frayed, and part of her just wished he would lash out in some why so she could return in kind. “You mentioned to me, before, about spending years in the south of D’Hara.”

Rikka nodded.

“Do you know of a place called Caska?”

“Caska.” Rikka said softly. “In the Deep Nothing.” She nodded. “It was abandoned thousands of years ago. Just after the Old and New World were separated.”

“You know of the Old world?”

She shrugged. “As much as one can know, when they have lived beside it for years. The Old World is there, on the other side of the barrier, and we did not cross into it. No one did.”

“The people of Caska?”

“There are no people of Caska. It is a necropolis now.” Her face went soft in thought for a moment. “Well, no. There are the bedouin of the region. Nomads really, moving through the deserts.”

“What do you know of them?”

“Little.” Rikka stepped closer to the table, and her gloved fingertips tapped out a faint rhythm, as if she were using that sound to look through her memories. “I have interacted with them some, but they keep to themselves, and would you blame them?”

“Blame them?”

“Being nomadic they moved through the deserts and did not follow Lord Rahl, they did not participate in devotions, they were, for all intents and purposes, outside of the rest of the D’Haran people, and as such suffered the brunt of ridicule, scorn and torture.” Her eyes looked toward Drefan for a moment, as he shifted. “They were, in the eyes of many, the lowest form of humanity in D’Hara.”

“Slaves then?”

“Yes and no. Slavery in D’Hara… does not really exist. More a class system. Those with the most D’Haran blood, and those who had been granted the favors of the Lord Rahl? They had servants and serfs on their lands. The ways of D’Hara are very similar to the Midlands, Mother Confessor, in that regard.”

“Hmm.” Kahlan thought of that for a moment, tapping the long owl feather quill to her lips.

“Those who lived in the Deep Nothing, those who perhaps are of ancient Caska blood? They were outside of the normal convention. We did not cross paths with them often. When we did, it… it never boded well for them.” Rikka looked at her hand on the desk, before she looked up at Kahlan. “Raina was taken from them. I doubt she recalls anything from that life, but one never knows.”

“So, these nomads, are they similar in appearance to Raina?” Kahlan asked her voice tight. The young girl who came to her along with the dreams of her being the last Confessor had resembled Raina somewhat, with her dark hair, and the lines of her face. The girl she had seen holding up Cara’s head in her latest dream could have easily been Raina at a very young age.

“Small, feisty? Dark?” Rikka nodded. “Oh yes.”

“Will you find Cara for me?”

“I know where she is, and I know she does not wish to be disturbed.” Rikka said in a way that made it clear that if she were ordered to she would go and bring Cara back, but neither of them would be happy about it.

“Actually.” Kahlan said with a mischievous smile. “I really only need the journey book.”

* * * * *

Raina read the delicate words written on the page, her face getting harder. The hand writing had given Berdine pause, but she had recognized it as that of the Mother Confessor. “Why would she be asking these things?” Raina looked up at Berdine, who was leaning against the thick fir tree.

“I don’t know.”

“Hmm. Well, I am afraid she will be greatly disappointed.” Raina looked up. “Unless you remember anything? Something you read? Or have seen?”

“You never spoke of your life before coming to the People’s Palace, and there are hardly any books that Darken Rahl had me read that pertained to the Deep Nothing.” Berdine felt her forehead furrow. Why the Mother Confessor would be asking of the Caska people, why she would specifically mention dreams and magic, made no sense. She had thought that Kahlan understood, that in D’Hara Lord Rahl was the magic against the magic, and in that regard all knowledge was his and his along. Or in this case, hers.

“Perhaps Darken would know more. Perhaps… we could find a way to speak with him?” Raina asked.

“Was he there? When you were in the Underworld?” Berdine asked, remembering that Cara had mentioned him after she had died, by Berdine’s hand.

“No. It was peaceful. Well, you know, for being the Underworld.” Raina smiled.

Berdine sighed. “I don’t know. In this, my head has nothing to offer.”

A warm hand slipped into hers and squeezed. “What does your heart think?”

“That more is going on that we know. And my heart is hurting for Cara.” Berdine confessed.

“Because?”

“Because of Kahlan. Can you even imagine? Cara, having to think, having to try and unearth what is happening? Cara asks us questions of Mord–Sith training and breaking, and of the magical bond that ties us to our pets. Kahlan is asking questions of the people of the Deep Nothing. Are the two of them even speaking? What is happening in Aydindril?” Berdine pursed her lips. “Cara is clearly concerned for Kahlan and the headaches, and reading between the lines? She blames herself.”

“While Cara and I have had our disagreements.” Raina’s face was flushed with her feelings of jealousy, before her eyes hardened. “She is smart. She will figure out what needs to be.”

* * * * *

How Berdine could spend days at a time staring at books Cara did not know, and did not think she ever would. After just a day of sitting at a table, a candle’s thick flame keeping her company as she thumbed through tome after tome, her eyes ached and burned, and she was fairly certain part of her brain had burst with the sheer boredom of reading such mundane words for hours.

Disappointed she was beginning to think that finding anything useful would not be done here in Aydindril. The books in the library of the Confessors were full of facts and information, about creatures possessing magic in the Midlands. But to find anything pertaining to Mord–Sith had taken time, and once she began reading through those specific volumes she was dejected. Most of the information was false or second hand and twisted. Perhaps if at the hands of a Confessor a Mord–Sith did not die in agony, but could be confessed, well, then perhaps they would have more information. As it was, there was nothing. And certainly nothing about the bonds between mistress and pet. Unless Berdine knew more and had written to her, Cara was afraid she was going to have to rely on her own experience, and would have to follow her instinct.

She merely prayed she was doing the right thing.

As Cara walked down the path from the Keep, she turned her head sharply, hearing a strange sound coming from the eastern quarter of the city. It sounded like bells, but shriller. Not a sound she had heard before. It distracted her.

Shota appearing from seemingly nowhere, grabbed Cara’s arm, pulling her roughly against her, her long nails somehow digging into her forearm in such a way that Cara’s hand went numb and she could not grab her Agiel.

Not that she would.

Something inside Cara told her that this woman was scared and concerned over the possibility of the Dream Walker, but that Shota’s intent was not malicious. Even if they were, if Shota used her magic against her? Cara would have her in an instant. They both knew that.

Shota’s face, unlike a Confessor’s, was full of thoughts. Cara did not like what she saw. She liked even less that this woman seemed to know not only about the dream caster, but that she seemed to know the secret as to how she and Kahlan were able to be intimate, without fear of confession. That was a closely guarded secret, not one that Cara wanted the whole of the Midlands to know. “Why did you not just kill him?” Shota sneered.

She knew instantly who the Him was that she referred to. “There would have been war.” Cara replied through her teeth.

“There will always be war!” Shota exclaimed. “You did it for your own selfish reasons. To have her be what you are! Do you see now the error? You see that you are killing her?”

Shota released Cara roughly, and Cara glared at her, hating her, because she feared she was right.

“If that is the case, if you seem to know so much about Mord–Sith and Confessors? Then why don’t you help me make this right!” Cara growled.

“You ask for my help?”

“What choice do I have?” Cara sighed.

Ch 9

Murmurs reached out to her through the noise of the minstrels, voices in hurried tones speaking in urgency. It caught her attention, but did not dull her annoyance. “Where is she?” Kahlan growled again lowly at Rikka, who merely shrugged, but her eyes sparkled.

This was unlike Cara, though entirely like her in the same token. To be late, especially after she had spent a good portion of the morning, speaking against what she referred to as ridiculous obedience to rules and pageantry. Now she had the audacity to be late for the gala.

While Kahlan fought to keep her expression like the painting of Magnus Searus above her, however the annoyance and headache were making her lips pull thin. And the loud chattering from the dancers here at the gala did not help.

She rose from her chair, and stomped down the steps, her long white dress billowing like waves in her wake. Apparently everyone just had to talk about someone. Kahlan would get to the bottom of this, and then maybe, just maybe she would have some peace. Glaring she approached the sound that was at the moment the pin head to her temper, and as the people parted in reverent fear of the Mother Confessor she spotted blue.

Icy, cold blue of a silken dress. Warm bronze shoulders exposed, not a common style of a dress for this spring gala. The blue tugged at her, reminded her of Night Wisp, and frozen water. Then it dawned on Kahlan.

The blue of that woman’s dress was the same color of her eyes.

That was what she realized as the woman at the center of all this attention and conversation turned, the power of her neck holding a proud chin, faint finger curls of blonde hair framing her face, and the soft full lips pulled into a smirking smile. Until that smile turned so warm that Kahlan forgot how to breathe.

Cara was standing amid all of these people, shocking them with her obvious disregard for their rules and idiosyncrasies, standing in the center of the spring gala, in a beautiful gown of blue.

A dress.

Cara’s eyes spoke loudly to her, that she was here, in this dress, just for Kahlan.

Part 10

The surprise in Kahlan’s eyes turned to a deep appreciation as they moved over Cara, and in that moment, in that look, all of her discomfort evaporated, and she was left with a sense of pride, and love.

While she had been unsure as she sat and received the help of a small army of maid servants, who had set her hair, powered her skin, and tightened all of the strings on the corset beneath the smooth silk of this dress, now Cara knew that it had been the right decision. The darkness in Kahlan’s eyes was replaced with the lightness of love.

Kahlan moved around her slowly, examining her, and Cara in turn moved in the opposite direction, allowing the inspection, and doing the same to Kahlan. Appreciating the finger curls in her hair as it hung over her shoulders in brilliant and dark contrast to the pale gown, the cut of the material over her breasts, and the way the Mother Confessor’s gown was a part of her.

The critical voices of the thousands of people in the hall muted; became insignificant. As the two of them completed one rotation, a familiar cord of music played from the minstrels in the far corner of the room. The lilt of strings being played was familiar to Cara, and she bowed her head ever so slightly, inviting Kahlan into the dance.

Suddenly Cara no longer cared about customs and etiquette. She just wanted to dance with Kahlan.

* * * * *

The nod took her by surprise, and it was followed by Cara lifting her hand, palm out to Kahlan. A request for her to step forward.

Kahlan did so with pleasure, and a smile on her lips.

The dance was timeless, as fluid as a river, and as patient as the moon. Their palms barely touched, and their hands lifted as Kahlan lost herself in Cara’s eyes, as they moved in the circle. The hall, full of revelers here for the Spring Gala, seemed empty suddenly, and it became a place just for the two of them. The way Cara smiled; warm and calm, even while doing this, which she knew Cara despised, dancing this traditional reel with Kahlan, in that brilliant blue dress. It seemed like she was doing everything she could to show Kahlan her appreciation, as if in her quick steps to the beat, she was offering herself.

Kahlan’s fingers moved to entwine with Cara’s suddenly, and she pulled. The blonde stepped immediately into her, their bodies meeting in a much more informal crush than was acceptable before the crowd of Midlanders, but Kahlan did not care.

“I love you.”

Cara’s eyes looked confused for a moment.

“These things that you do? I know what they mean. I know that in your doing them, you are granting me gifts.” Kahlan’s free hand cupped her cheek, and Cara’s eyes widened.

Cara was still partially in the real world, in the center of the dance floor, and all the witnesses around them.

Kahlan wasn’t there anymore. For her there was nothing but the music and Cara.

“Cara, I will do the same for you. I will walk on your paths, and I will come into your world.”

“You already have.”

“This. Moments like this, where you shelve your pride and steel your will to simply make me smile? These are not moments easily forgotten.”

Kahlan’s fingers traced delicately on Cara’s cheek, while their hands were twined strongly, and it was more passionate, the meeting of their vision and understanding, than any kiss could have been.

* * * * *

“You’re insane.” Richard snapped.

“I’m insane? You are the one who is turning your back on true and honest power.”

“I do not want to be a wizard.”

“There are some things in life we do not get to choose.”

“You took the gift from me.”

“Which was a mistake. One that I corrected.” Nicci said gently from where she sat on the small bench beside the horse stables.

The noise from the city of Anderith moved on the wind around them, warm with the changing season. Still this city was small and hushed compared to the city of Tanimura, where she had spent decades living at the Palace of the Prophets. Even at the height of the day Anderith was a small hamlet to Nicci. For one reason or another, none that Richard had yet divulged, they were still here, seemingly waiting.

It was on their first night here, with the Wizard watching over her, that Nicci had placed her hands on Richard’s sleeping body, and returned to him all of the power she had taken.

With a scream he had awoken, and instinctually backhanded her across the room.

It had been a week, and the flesh around her eye was still colored with a deep bruise, one that, every time Richard set his gaze on her caused him to grimace.

* * * * *

Just as Kahlan moved even closer, her steps stalling in the dance, her lips parted, and Cara sighed her name in warning.

There had been a hush from the crowd watching them dance together, but that hush turned into the sharp intake of air as Kahlan had moved to kiss her. For the Mother Confessor to be so bold, to kiss Cara on the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by her subjects and her husband, was out of character even for Kahlan. Kahlan who knew and understood her role as Mother Confessor.

“Let them stare. I do not care.” Kahlan said intently. “This is Aydindril. This is my home. And you are my mate.”

Cara smiled gently. “Yes. I am. But Kahlan, think. Think about what you are doing. Consider what they are thinking.” Cara tried to move them back into the rhythm of the music, to continue the dance.

Kahlan’s eyes narrowed. “No.” Her feet stopped.

“I love you Kahlan, and I am here, with you. But do not throw away the respect these people have for you just to prove a point. I know. I feel what you want. I want it to.”

“I will not be made to cower, nor will I for an instant turn my face from what must be done.”

“What if you have to?”

“Why would I have to?”

* * * * *

“Richard. Which one of those chickens is not a chicken?” Nicci asked again, smiling as he shook his head in dispute.

“They are all chickens. And this is ridiculous.”

“Is it? And no. They are not all just chickens. One has been touched by magic. It has a signature to it, one that you, with your Han returned, will be able to detect.”

“I…” He began but she looked at him with seriousness. He crossed his arms and looked into the small chicken pen. “That one.” He pointed to a small black and white speckled chicken.

“Why do you pick that one?”

“Because it is pretty.” He offered with a smile.

“Are you being difficult on purpose?” She asked, feeling the desire swelling inside of her to stand, put her hands around his neck and squeeze the life out of him.

“Nicci? What is it?” Richard asked, concern filling his voice. “Your eyes are… not normal.”

“I want to kill you.” She said lightly. “More than for being childish.” She closed her eyes, and focused her mind, pushing away the intent she felt, the intent she knew was not her own.

“You had another dream last night?”

“I did.” She offered, opening her eyes. “It would be helpful if you would at least try to accept the teachings I am offering.”

“Instead of us talking about these dreams?”

“Your pride and stubbornness may be the death of you yet, Richard Rahl.” Nicci replied evenly.

“It’s the grey hen.” He offered.

“Thank you.” She sighed.

“Why is there a magical chicken?” the Wizard asked as he came around the corner of the stable building, the large man, Chase in tow.

“Training.” Richard offered.

“Harrumph.” The Wizard grumbled, and Nicci snapped her fingers, removing the touch of magic from the bird, who squawked once in annoyance. “There are more important things to worry about today than your training I fear.”

Richard looked intently at his grandfather, while Nicci noticed that the large Boundary Warden’s eyes were shifting back and forth with agitation.

“What is it?” Richard asked.

“What was once an undercurrent of discontent when we arrive here in Anderith has risen to the surface. I just found Chase among a group of men from Westland who arrived this morning. Apparently they are the same men who had attacked the village we came across a week ago. They were in the city’s square.”

“Was there fighting?”

“Oh no, my boy. They were discussing the next course of action.”

“Action?”

“Indeed.” He turned to the large man. “Chase, why don’t you tell Richard exactly what you were discussing?”

“You were part of this madness, Chase?”

“What is madness is that Lord Rahl has slipped into the Midlands and declared himself indisputable ruler. That he has forced the hand of the Midlands so easily, by corrupting and defiling that woman.”

“Woman?” Richard asked, and Nicci watched as his jaws clenched.

“Your lady love? You remember her, don’t you? We all know full and well that she is in league with the Keeper, that she and her murdering wenches are carrying out the will of that bastard brother of yours, Lord Rahl. We are not going to stand for it. We are not going to allow him to take what is not his.”

“Chase? You know Kahlan. You know she is honest, pure, and would never be in league with anyone, let alone the Keeper.”

“You’re blind Richard. She is corrupted. As is that D’Haran. We are rallying and we will march into Aydindril and set things back to right.”

“How?” The Seeker asked.

“We will kill Lord Rahl, and then imprison the Confessor until she breaks and submits to the will of the people.” Chase smiled with a dark sneer on his lips.

When she met this large man before, Richard had gone on and on at length of his devotion to what was right, and his steadfastness in the protection of not only Richard and the people of Westland but his respect for Kahlan. To hear these words, and to see the look of absolute certainty in his eyes, Nicci knew that this was not the man speaking. This was someone speaking for him, through him.

“Chase?” Richard asked in shock.

“He is not the only one feeling these sentiments, my boy. The city is literally humming with the chants to bring down the House of Rahl.” The Wizard set his hand on Richard’s shoulder, “And Kahlan as well.”

* * * * *

With a strong squeeze of her hand, Cara released Kahlan’s touch, before she stepped away, walking with her eyes still on the Mother Confessor. Perfectly the others around them parted, avoiding Cara’s steps, and once she was ten feet from Kahlan, her unexpected smile brightened and it reached deep inside of Kahlan, affecting her with its absolute purity. It stole the breath from her lungs.

Cara turned around then, and walked towards the form in stunning red leather just on the edge of the dance floor.

Kahlan noticed Hally’s eyes as she took in the scene before her, and noticed the stress of worry in the corners of them.

The dance with Cara had been exquisite and had lasted through more melodies than she could count. If she had her way it would have lasted through the evening and into the night, it would have lasted for days, just the two of them, moving together in the soothing pulse of the music.

It was the most sincere intimacy the two of them experienced together in weeks, since Kahlan broke Cara. And that fact was something she was very aware of. If she had known that giving into the Mord-Sith within her would have meant sacrificing the moments of intimacy and love making with Cara she never would have agreed to it. No matter what it would have had done to her.

Kahlan turned, and inadvertently stepped into the woman who had been standing behind her. Kahlan’s eyes narrowed in shock, looking at the brilliant blue stone that rested on the woman’s forehead between her light colored eyebrows. In a quick moment Kahlan examined her, from her short sandy colored hair, to the way her blue eyes looked stunningly like the jewel between them. Her face held a few fine wrinkles, but she was exceptionally young for what she was.

“You are a Seer.” Kahlan said gently.

“Mother Confessor, it is a great honor.”

“The honor is all mine. I did not know that there was a Seer in Aydindril.” Kahlan looked closely seeing great depth in her eyes. “Nor have I ever met one as young as yourself.”

“I only arrived a few days ago, Mother Confessor. I attempted to have an audience with you, but.”

“But you were turned away.” Kahlan smiled apologetically, extending her hand, knowing that she had been turning away visitors; her headaches had been just too strong, and her patience too weak. She was ashamed of her own physical failings, at not living up to expectations, as well as the weakness she felt nearly every evening, weakness to do harm. “What is your name?”

“Jebra Bevinvier, Mother Confessor. There is much I need to.” The Seer took her hand, bowing deeply to kiss it, as was customary, but her knees buckled, and Kahlan stepped forward to attempt to catch her.

“What is it?” Kahlan asked in a rush.

The woman’s bright blue eyes flashed up at her “You must leave Aydindril. You must.”

Cara was suddenly there, her arm slipped around the woman’s waist, lifting her from Kahlan’s hold, just in case she was a threat. “She has magic.” Cara said softly, and the woman looked at Cara, her mouth going slack.

“Oh! Oh my.” The Seer pushed away from Cara, as if her touch was scalding her.

“What is it Jebra?” Kahlan asked.

“I… I cannot.” Her eyes were wide as she stared at Cara, wide with shock and perhaps something more. She turned back to Kahlan. “It is not safe!”

* * * * *

An older woman, whose hair was just below her shoulders, denoting that she was of some official ranking in the Midlands waved her hand as she spoke to Kahlan. Cara watched her out of the corner of her eye. This was not the first person to approach Kahlan since the Gala began, and would not be the last. They all seemed tense as they spoke to the Mother Confessor, and Cara was not sure if that was due to the amount of elderberry wine that seemed to flow this afternoon, or the fact that Cara was standing not a foot away from Kahlan, clearly and visibly at her side, while her husband, Lord Rahl, sat on the dais across the room, a Home Guard standing at either side of his chair.

Her eyes moved over the crowds. People were milling around, the sunlight thick with dust as it came through the large windows above the receiving hall, making the whole sight seem other worldly. In the crowds she could see not one stitch of red, which made her feel slightly uneasy. Hally had taken the Seer to a suite of private rooms to rest, with the request that she remain there, as Kahlan wanted to speak with her further, in private. Rikka was at the Keep, watching over Shota who had been reviewing books there, and occasionally giving out information to Cara about Kahlan. So far the information she was provided proved useless. Recommendations of teas to drink, the burning of certain colors of wax candles around Kahlan. And of Shota’s insistence that Cara do not stoke the flames of Kahlan’s passion; not her passion for blood and pain, nor her passion for love and compassion. So far, all of that advice seemed empty, and Kahlan’s moods continued to darken and her headaches were becoming stronger.

“Did you know there was once a time where there were tens of, almost a hundred Confessors?”

“I remember.” Kahlan replied, her eyes moving to Cara, before sliding back to the woman who was speaking.

“Oh the beauty and the grandeur of those days. My dear, you must return our lands to that time. It does no good for you to,” Her eyes moved over Cara, “idle your time away in pursuits that do not improve the quality of life for the people of the Midlands.”

“Perhaps, my child,” Kahlan said angrily. “The people of the Midlands need to work on improving their own lives, and worry less about mine, and the line of Confessors?”

The woman nodded drunkenly. “That is exactly what I told the Grand Duke of Mardovia.”

“Oh? And his reply?”

“He agreed. The time is now, for the people of the Midlands to rise and improve themselves.”

Cara did not like the tone or the words the woman used.

“How do you plan to improve yourselves? By coming here and drinking all of the Mother Confessor’s wine? Or by working to strengthen the Council?”

“You would be surprised how strong the Council is, Mother Confessor.” The woman refused to speak to Cara, not that she minded. She was content to stand and keep watch on the room, and the tension that filled it. “I dare say we are now aware of the error we made in the Winter Session, at signing over our sovereignty to the likes of that D’Haran.” She looked over towards the dais, and Drefan. “To see that even you, our Mother Confessor, and his wife, cannot abide to stand beside him, to even sleep in the same chamber not to mention the lack of a child in your womb. Well, that tells us that you will be with us. When we act.”

“How will you act?” Cara asked suspiciously.

“Trust that you and your D’Haran cohorts will know when we do.”

“Is that a threat?” Cara stepped forward, not afraid of some middle aged drunk woman, but, the flash of hate in her eyes was far stronger than she had expected to see in a body so frail.

“A promise. We know you slaughtered all the other Confessors. We know all about you, Mord-Sith.”

Cara felt her lips purse together, and her palm itched to strike this woman across her face.

“That Cara killed the Confessors at Valeria is of no matter. Not now. Not anymore.”

“Why yes, it did make things convenient for you, did it not Mother Confessor?”

“We are done.” Kahlan snapped, and turned away from the woman who just smiled.

Kahlan’s fingers found Cara’s arm and she began leading them away. “Cara, I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I do not hold you accountable for anything.”

“Where we are now, today, it is easy at times to forget where we came from.” Cara looked at her seriously. “I will never forget, Kahlan. Ever.”

“Nor will I. Forgive? Always. Forget? Never.” Kahlan smiled softly. “Do you think we should be concerned with what that woman said? That the Council is planning something? We know that kingdoms have been meeting in secret, we know that there seems to be an increase in unhappiness with the D’Haran army being just outside the city itself.”

“What good would concern bring? What she said? It is all things you already know. I think what you need to focus on, Mother Confessor, is your own health.” Cara offered, letting Kahlan know that she could see the exhaustion and pain in her eyes.

“I… I have found myself wishing that there was someone I could hand the power over too.” Kahlan said softly to her. “So that we could have some time. So that I could rest.”

“You could. Give it to the Council magistrate. Give it to another specific person. If that is what you want and you need.” Cara, putting her hand on top of Kahlan’s, and stopping their procession through the crowds. “But you and I both know that if you decide to do either of those things? The Midlands will be without a true Mother Confessor. Without your barometer of truth. It will merely be someone acting in your stead.”

“I know that.”

“And I know you will never just walk away, no matter how much you want to and no matter how much I want to. We are what we are Kahlan. Warriors with duty.”

“Honor.”

“Stubbornness.”

“Conviction.”

“Faith.”

“Love.” Kahlan said sternly and her eyes seemed to sparkle suddenly, in that special way that made Cara want to embrace her.

There seemed to be a commotion off to the right suddenly, and Cara’s eyes swung towards the possible threat, her smile slipping away.

Moving through the crowds were three large men, one clearly a step before the other two. Cara was well versed in noblemen, and those who had lackeys trailing behind were generally higher on the power scale. She watched as his lips spread in a smile, his short beard moving on his cheeks, and his light blue eyes twinkling with joy. He was tall, and appeared strong, but was definitely borne of the Midlands, his size was average compared to a D’Haran.

As he stepped even closer, she held back her low growl at the familiar way his eyes moved over Kahlan, and she took in the light blue of his tunic, the gold and sapphire broach at his shoulder, and the strong and worn looking sword that rested on his hip.

“Well, look at you!” He exclaimed taking Kahlan’s hands, and holding them out as his smiling eyes moved over her body, outwardly his expression was one of kinship and kindness, but Cara’s own eyes narrowed at him. There just seemed to be a twinkling in his eyes that she did not appreciate.

That or she was just as Kahlan had alluded to at times, jealous.

She did not want to think nor admit that. Jealousy was as uncommon to a Mord-Sith as wearing a dress.

Shaking her head, Cara turned away, but her eyes flittered back to the two of them.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Kahlan smiled.

“That is has been, what? Three years? No, four?”

“That sounds about right.”

“So. You know each other. Intimately?” Cara growled.

“Prince Harold, please,” Kahlan stepped to Cara, taking her hand, and pulling it, and therefore Cara closer. “May I introduce to you Mistress Cara.”

“Mistress? Oh! You are the Mord-Sith.” His voice, though charming, held a slight edge to it.

“Among other things.” Kahlan offered softly.

“I honestly did not recognize you in that beautiful dress, darlin, and my apologies. I was expecting someone…”

“Taller?” Cara snapped.

Prince Harold actually laughed. “No. No. More frightening.” The words were thinly veiled; their contempt was evident behind them. Though Kahlan did not seem to notice.

“I can be.” Cara said, glaring up at him from under her brows, not for the first time this day wishing she had at least her Agiel under the skirts of her dress.

“Prince Harold would come to the Palace often as a child, and I spent time away in Galea with his family as well, when my mother had business to attend to in the region.” Kahlan did not so much ignore the tension between the two of them, as step over it.

Cara sighed, and noticed Hally standing a few feet away. She glared once more at the tall and handsome Prince, before stepping away towards Hally, who should not have returned so soon.

“Well, come what may, Mother Confessor, you are still the most breathtaking woman in all the Midlands.” The Prince’s annoying voice followed Cara.

“I, well, thank you.” Cara looked over her shoulder, and watched as Kahlan blushed.

“I hate him.” Cara said softly under her breath.

Hally turned to her. “Why?”

“I just do.” Cara looked hard at Hally. “Why are you here again so soon?”

“Captain Ryan. He is in a state.”

“A state?”

“Apparently Queen Milena of Tamarang has arrived, and brought with her not only an apparent gift for the Mother Confessor, but a Wizard with her as well.”

“We knew she would.”

“Yes well, Captain Ryan is not pleased, as the Mother Confessor does not have a Wizard of her own.”

Kahlan’s laughter, honest and rich moved around Cara, making her eyes constrict again.

“No… she does not have a wizard. She has me.”

* * * * *

“You cannot be serious, Chase? You know Kahlan, you know me. This is not like you.”

“I don’t know how much we should fear this declaration, Richard, the army of Anderith is small, inconsequential, and even with the added support of troops from Westland, there is little they could do to upset the Home Guard of Aydindril, even without the presence of the D’Haran Army.” The Wizard said nonchalantly.

“Oh you of little faith.” Chase said, his voice seeming to change slightly. Nicci noticed, but was not sure if the others did as well.

“What do you mean?” Richard asked.

“Very soon an army the size of which you cannot comprehend will swarm into the Midlands, and into D’Hara and it will burn across the land until it’s fist finds the throat of Lord Rahl and snuffs him out.”

Nicci felt the color drain from her face. “What army?”

“Oh, little Nicci, you know what army.” Chase’s voice had the lull to it of familiarity.

“Impossible.” She said gruffly.

“Very possible. The Imperial Order is marching this way at this very moment.”

“There is no way an Army of that size can pass through the barrier between the worlds.”

“That was once true. But thanks to you, Nicci? The barrier is no more.”

“Barrier, what barrier? Nicci? Chase? What is the Imperial Order?” Richard asked, his eyes moving between the two of them.

“The law. The life. The will of the people.” Chase quoted.

Nicci ignored Chase for a moment, her eyes moving to Richard, and her tone slipping into that of a teacher again. “The Imperial Order is the empire of the Old World. Its creation was due in part to the growth some few hundred years ago by a sect of religious zealots called the Fellowship of Order. The Order’s teachings are simple; that mankind is evil and full of selfish desires.” Nicci said evenly. “I was a member of the Fellowship for nearly a century, as were my parents before me.”

“So, it is merely the ruling class of the Old World. Why would this cause you concern?”

“Concern?” Nicci blinked at Richard. “It is more than concern, Seeker. The Fellowship as well as the Emperor claim to work in the name of the Creator. Their armies are spread throughout the Old World, ruling all people under the iron fist of their beliefs. Beliefs that clearly state that the army is the hand of the Emperor, and he can murder, rape and steal from innocent people, because it is the duty of all to bend to the will of others in need. People of the Old World are brainwashed with the promise of a better world in death and that their current life was worthless. Anyone who speaks out against these thoughts are quickly put to death, being accused of treason against the Creator.”

“That sounds very much like the philosophy of a certain Lord Rahl.” Richard said off handedly.

“Perhaps. But what makes the idea of the Order coming here, into the Midlands a frightening prospect? They despise magic, Richard, and those who are gifted with it. They want to end magic itself.” Nicci stressed.

“Is that even possible?” Richard asked.

“You kill a species to extinction? Yes. Yes it is very possible.” The Wizard added, and Nicci could tell by his expression that he was taking her words to heart.

She looked back to the large man. “What is the purpose of the Imperial Order coming here?”

“To bring with them the word of the Creator, to eradicate magic. And most immediately? End the line of Rahl.” Chase said, still his voice somewhat different than before. Nicci watched indifferently as he pulled a large knife from his belt.

She knew what he planned to do with that knife, what part of her mind told her to allow him to do, and she focused. Nicci released a wave of compressed air at Chase, lifting the massive man’s feet from the ground, and slamming him back into the side of the stables with a thud. He dropped unconscious, the knife slipping from his fingers.

“Nicci! What are you doing?”

“The line of Rahl?” She shook her head. “He was going to kill you.”

“Not Chase.”

“No, of course not Chase.” She snapped. “But whatever is in his mind? Controlling him? Yes. That entity wants you dead.” She looked at the Wizard. “We need to leave here, now.”

“I am not running away, Nicci.” Richard said sternly.

“Then consider it running to.” She crossed her arms. “If the Order comes here? All life will be lost. And I know you Richard; you will not allow that to come to pass. So, let us leave this place and work together to stop that from happening.”

“We could make a stand here.”

“You and your grandfather? Defeat an army the size of which can and will stretch from one horizon to another?” She laughed. “No.”

“Then what do you propose?”

Begrudgingly she replied. “We need to get to the Mother Confessor. Before it is too late.”

* * * * *

As Cara passed Captain Ryan and stepped into Kahlan’s private chamber off of the receiving hall she noted his blank face, and that his eyes seemed on high alert. There were a half dozen royal Tamarang guards milling around, in their vibrant purple tunics, but they were outnumbered two to one by the Home Guard. It just added to the already oppressive atmosphere that had been covering the Spring Gala since it began hours before. Everyone seemed on high alert, dissatisfied or drunk. This did not seem like a joyous occasion; quite on the contrary, to Cara it felt like the tenuous moments before a storm broke.

She moved through the doorway, noticing first that the Queen was still as bloated looking as ever, and that she was surprisingly alone in the room. She turned, her expression full of a deep smile, which did not reach her eyes as she bowed her head slightly to Kahlan.

“Mother Confessor. My apologies at taking you away from the festivities.”

“I am surprised you arrived late, Queen Milena. Usually I can count on you to be one of the first to arrive.”

“Yes, I was, delayed. My dear daughter Violet was struck down on our journey to Aydindril with a terrible fever, and I was tending to her late into the evening.”

“I am sorry to hear that. Please send my regards to your daughter.”

Cara noticed the older woman’s hand held a thin copper scroll case. The woman seemed to be holding onto it for dear life.

“Thank you. Well, I had hoped to just enter the Gala, but apparently your meticulous guards determined that if I was to present you with these things, well, I needed to meet with you in private.”

“It is policy, Queen Milena, you know that.” Kahlan said, crossing her arms over her chest, looking down at the woman with the firm eyes of the Mother Confessor. “So, what is it that you felt the need to present me with, now, instead of waiting until tomorrow?”

“This scroll.” She lifted it, her jeweled fingers seeming to quake ever so slightly. Cara watched her very carefully, again wishing for her Agiel. She would be more comfortable if it was pressing into the side of this robust woman’s neck. “This was entrusted to me by a benefactor of my court.”

“And this benefactor is?” Cara asked sharply.

“No one you would know.” She said gruffly to Cara, before returning her dull eyes to Kahlan. “It is to be given to Lord Rahl and only the Lord Rahl.”

Cara stepped closer and ripped the metal cylinder it from her hand. She could feel the slight tingle of magic in her palm, and in the back of her mind she sensed warning.

“Is that so?” Kahlan asked, looking at Cara, who shook her head, conveying the warning.

“I am to see it delivered personally.” Queen Milena whined, reaching to take it back from Cara.

She stepped back from her clawing hands, glaring at the woman. “Interesting, last time I checked you were a witless, pompous woman, and I am comforted to see that has not changed.”

“What Mistress Cara means, is that you are not one to give commands, nor orders. Certainly not here, nor to me.”

“I am a Queen!” She exclaimed angrily.

“You were in this moment and all those before it. But you try my patience, Milena, and when my patience is tried I tend to look for a solution. In this case, your replacement.” Kahlan’s voice was so cold that it even took Cara by slight surprise.

“Oh? You think that you have any jurisdiction over my realm, my people or me?” The woman’s voice was low, angry, and seemingly out of character suddenly.

“Yes. I do. You bow before me. You follow my commands, as well as those of my advisors.”

“Well, you should know what we in Tamarang think of your advisors, as well as you, Kahlan Amnell.”

“Which is?”

“Perhaps these gifts we brought for you, will better explain.” She motioned to the two small jewel encrusted chests sitting on the edge of the desk. Kahlan looked to Cara, who shook her head. Kahlan would not be touching anything that this woman or her servants brought into the Palace. The blankness in Milena’s stare and the mocking in her smile spoke of malicious intent.

Cara set the thin carved copper tube on the table, and with one hand on each of the lids of the small chests she again felt the vibration of magic. Gritting her teeth she lifted the lids, part of her thinking she should have Kahlan leave the room before she did this.

But it was too late, and the lids opened, and Cara was staring into the pale eyes of death. The once living eyes of Solvig and Hania looked at her, each of the Mord-Siths’ heads nestled on a bed of violet velvet. The two Mord-Sith Cara had sent to Tamarang to see what the Queen had been up to. The two that she had sent to their deaths. “No.” She hissed.

A sharp laughter filled the room suddenly. “Joyous Spring Solstice, Kahlan Amnell. I am comforted knowing it will be your last.”

“The last for one of us, of that you.” Kahlan’s hand slammed against Milena’s neck. “have my guarantee.”

“KAHLAN NO!” Cara spun around and shoved her knocking her fingers free of the woman’s throat, just as the air in the room compressed and Kahlan released the power of the Confessor. It had been meant for Milena, but Cara had taken the brunt of it.

As the two of them came to a crashing halt against the stone wall, Kahlan’s hands gripped her shoulders, “Cara? Oh, Spirits Cara?”

“I am fine.” She said looking up at Kahlan’s blue eyes. “Don’t touch her. Don’t touch anything in this room, do you understand?”

Kahlan nodded, and then her eyes widened. “She came with a wizard!”

Milena began laughing again, this time much lower, and it had an eerie level of echo to it. Cara spun around, facing her. “Who ever you are? In there? I am going to come for you.” Cara growled.

“Oh, I look forward to that, Mord-Sith. I do.” Milena sneered, and Cara grabbed her portly head, and twisted, snapping her neck with a pop.

She looked at Kahlan, who nodded her approval, and then they rushed from the room.

“No one goes in that room Captain!” Kahlan ordered as they rushed back into the receiving hall, and all of the innocent citizens of Aydindril dancing gaily, not knowing that there was quite possibly a real threat in their midst.

* * * * *

Kahlan’s head was suddenly clear, the ache of the day gone. Because she knew, without a doubt that she was going to kill someone and the Blood Lust was pumping through her body, powering her muscles as she moved between people, as she shoved some out of the way.

If the Dream Walker had possession of Queen Milena, and she was barely gifted, what would they be able to do with a wizard, no matter the level of his power?

Kahlan seemed to instinctively know that she had to get to Drefan. That he was the one in danger.

“Move!” She shoved someone out of her way, and then, knowing Cara was behind her, as well as the Guards, she called out, “Protect Lord Rahl!”

* * * * *

Berdine’s eyes narrowed in anger.

They had decided to approach the Mord-Sith temple from the north, where they would be sheltered by the windswept rocks of the large cracked mountain face. It had added an extra travel time, of seeing the same endless mountains, the same fractured surfaces that they would hide in at night to attempt to get some relief from the stinging wind. Looking down at the small Mord-Sith temple, its grey stone walls shimmering where the wet air had frozen against it, they could see a platoon of D’Harans, some patrolling, others standing guard. And seeing them there, Berdine knew that the extra time had been well spent.

“Why in the world would a Dragon Corps be here?” Berdine mused.

“I do not know.” Raina grumbled. “Kahlan wouldn’t have sent them here. Not without telling us.”

Her voice pulled tight as she agreed. “This reeks of something much more sinister.”

“I hate when you say that.” Raina said her eyes looking up at her momentarily.

Berdine shrugged, “So, what should we do?”

“Do?” Raina stood taller. “We go down there, kick in the doors and find out just what in the Spirits’ name is going on.”

“If they have taken control of the temple for their own nefarious ends?”

“We kill them.” Raina said evenly, her dark eyes flashing with confidence.

“That is why I love you.” Berdine sighed with a smile.

Raina’s reply was a smile, which was dripping with menace.

* * * * *

Across the room, Cara was the flash of red, followed by black as Hally moved in front of Drefan. Kahlan was running now, and people were just beginning to sense something was amiss.

Goblets fell to the floor with a clank, and the bright chiming of glass breaking on stone could be heard. Cara narrowed her eyes, as her legs moved faster. She watched as Hally’s fist connected with a man’s cheek, and his head snapped towards Kahlan and Cara.

His youthful but dark eyes rested on Kahlan and his lanky body straightened, as if he suddenly forgot that his intent was to kill Drefan. Now all of his attention was on Kahlan, and it boiled Cara’s blood.

She nodded to Hally, who grabbed Drefan by the back of his tunic and pulled him out of his chair. He obliged the small Mord-Sith, following her quickly away, as if he knew somehow that his life was at risk. That accomplished, Cara, still running, watched with rage as the thin man licked his lips, his eyes roaming over Kahlan lustfully.

“Your time has ended, Mother Confessor.” He said, as Kahlan came to a sliding halt just in front of him. Cara watched as her hand moved to her thigh, where Kahlan’s Agiel would have been, if Cara had returned it to her. Which Cara had not yet done.

“NO ONE threatens her.” Cara growled, pulling his attention away from her mate, and smiling as he focused his little eyes on her.

“You are no match for me, whore.” Intent was the color of a raging river in his pale eyes as he stood before Kahlan, and sneered at her.

Cara moved forward, feeling for an instant that she was moving through water, as time slowed, as her breathing stilled and her body sprung to action.

Without an Agiel she was far from defenseless.

Her right fingertips moved over the linen cloth on the table behind her, finding the wooden handle of a small knife beside a fork, her fingers spun slowly, as she gripped the hilt, turned it in her palm, the blade resting cold against her naked wrist.

As the Wizard’s had rose towards the Mother Confessor, her calm steps took her between them, and Cara lifted her left palm. Magic crackled in the Wizard’s eyes, and around his hair as it pulsed from his own outstretched hand.

The muscles of her body clenched, and Cara felt herself turn to stone, harder than stone.

The magic hit her flesh, and instead of absorbing the magic as she could have, she deflected it back to him, sending the cold line of fire towards his heart.

But in that moment, in that small span of time, before the flames reached him, Cara swung her right arm effortlessly, and as her arm arched around, her finger tips spun the blade again, pointing it forward, and it sliced through his throat as if his skin was made of the yielding flesh of boiled fish.

He would have screamed, but could not, though faintly she heard as someone did. A woman.

The flames were just about to reach his ever widening eyes, and her skilled fingers twirled the blade again, and Cara pulled her arm back, slashing deeper through the gaping wound on his neck. The Wizard’s flame died just as it singed his own nose. He began to slowly drop to the ground.

And that was when all sight and sound sped back up and slammed into Cara’s consciousness.

“CARA!” She heard Kahlan cry, but knew the fear in her voice was from a moment before. A moment when this man had been alive.

He fell into a bleeding heap at her feet, and Cara dropped the small knife on his chest. “No one.” She hissed.

Part 11

In a huff of exasperation Cara stormed into the Mother Confessor’s private chambers. Her hair was falling loose from the pins that had held it up for hours. Her legs ached with unfamiliar annoyance from the shoes she wore, and over all she felt raw and exposed in this dress. Instinctually she wanted to dig her nails into the smooth silk and rip it from her. Her fingers even moved to the bodice to do just that, before in a flash she recalled the look of pleasure in Kahlan’s eyes, seeing her like this.

Cara sighed.

She wouldn’t destroy the dress then.

As she pulled the cord that hung from the ceiling in the corner, signaling the servants, her face turned angry.

The door opened and Hally and Leona came into the room, both looked calm, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Well?” Cara asked, pulling pins from her hair, and marching into the bed chamber.

“The hall is being cleared by D’Harans as you requested.” Hally said following. “The Mother Confessor refused to leave, just as you thought. She is saying her goodbyes.”

Cara harrumphed under her breath. “Yes of course she is staying; someone just tried to kill her but there are protocols to be followed.”

Two maid servants appeared behind Hally and Leona, who stood flanking the doorway. The smaller women looked to the leather clad Mord–Sith, their eyes wide, but they had learned by now, to accepted these women to always be around, watching.

“Help me out of this thing.” Cara ordered, and the maids moved around her. “Who is watching over her?”

“Salina, Tosha and Captain Ryan.” Hally offered.

As Cara lifted her arms out from her sides, and heard the popping of the small threads that had been used to sew the dress closed on her body, her eyes moved back up to Hally. “Go to the Mother Confessor’s private office, Leona, and do not let anyone inside that room, especially not her. Hally? I want you to become the Mother Confessor’s shadow. Do not let you out of your sight”

Hally nodded slightly. “Of course.”

* * * * *

Dragon Corps guards surrounded them, and Berdine felt the jab of an argon’s tip on her lower back, persuading her to drop down on her knees. A noise of discontent fell from her lips as did the Agiel in her hand.

“Somehow I feel like you want to say that we should have known better.” Raina mumbled dropping her Agiel as well.

Berdine nodded in agreement. Moments before dawn they had slipped down through the cracks in the rocks surrounding the temple, and made their way to incapacitate the first of four guards who stood before the massive metal doors. It should have been a simple act, but somehow they had been spotted, and as they killed the first of the guards, another half dozen had surrounded them from behind. Raina was correct; perhaps they had been caught in the trap of overconfidence. For all intent Berdine had thought the number of guards much less than it was.

It did not make sense, as to what all of these soldiers were doing here. She thought they may have been wintering here, yet that seemed too simple an answer. She was thankful that the two of them merely had swords and argons pointed at them, versus being dead. The thought of death suddenly seemed all the more real and final, as the situation began to sink into her skin.

A knee slammed into the center of her back, forcing her lower, and Berdine grumbled low, as she watched red leather boots stride closer to her. A Mord–Sith. This was becoming even more interesting, she thought to herself, as she looked to her side, to see Raina’s dark eyes looking disinterested, but she seemed well, unhurt.

Berdine let her eyes look up and found herself looking into the light brown eyes of an older Mord–Sith. Clearly this woman was a trainer, but not one she had ever seen before. Which was not uncommon. Once a Mord–Sith’s training was complete, unless they too followed the path of being a trainer, they rarely, if ever crossed paths with these particular sister’s of the Agiel. She wore the coiled whip at her side, where one would normally wear an Agiel. That weapon was probably kept at the small of her back, as was the way of a trainer. Berdine felt her eyes narrow as she looked at every line and mark on the Mord–Sith’s face. She did not recognize her at all.

“Two wayward Sisters, come all this way to the far north in the dead of winter.” The older Mord–Sith stated as she stepped in front of them. Berdine felt her skin twitching under the intensity of the woman’s inspecting eyes. “I wonder who sent you.”

“Lord Rahl.” Berdine replied her eyes tuning as cold as the ice on the ground, and just as blue.

“Oh?” The Mord–Sith said with feigned surprise “Well, isn’t that something. Last I heard Lord Rahl had been murdered by a traitorous Mord–Sith and the Seeker.”

“You’ve been misinformed; Lord Rahl is alive and well.” Raina barked.

“Oh, I think it is you who has been misinformed. That imposter that you are blindly following will be dealt with, in time.”

“Why are these men here?” Berdine asked.

“Never you mind, Sister. It is not your concern.” She snapped her fingers, and the men of the Dragon Corps moved forward. “Bring them inside, so we can have a more detailed conversation about the true reason for their unannounced visit.”

* * * * *

She nodded to the small bench in the corner of the room, and Leona, carrying one of the jewel encrusted boxes moved forward, and set it down. Cara did the same with the other, and then set the small copper tube between them.

“You can return to the Palace now.” Cara said softly.

“Yes, Mistress.” Leona said, bowing her head, and then leaving in a brisk walk. Not that Cara blamed her, this room made her skin crawl and actually created an throbbing pain in the center of her bones. She assumed that the room was spelled, and it was only by stubborn will that she could walk over the threshold. When Zedd had still been here, he had explained to her that the Wizard’s Keep was once a thriving Palace, full of thousands of wizards and their families. It was a place of community as well as training and the storage of knowledge and artifacts of magic that should be safely kept from the curious hands of the lay person. Which made sense to Cara, as she well knew, magic was tricky at best, lethal at worst. This room, a long narrow hall, was in the center of the Keep, and to get here one had to pass through a series of archways and doors. Some of those archways were shielded with magic, which made her body ache, or filled her mind with a sense of dread. Others, she could not pass through at all. But, as she had discovered as she explored, looking for libraries and clues to the secrets of the Confessor and Mord–Sith, where one way was blocked there was always another way that was not. It was in patience and determination that one could move through the dark stone Palace. And Cara possessed both of those attributes.

The room she stood in, when she found it had confused her. Why would a room that seemed to hold nothing but odds and ends, broken vases, and silly looking broaches be spelled so heavily, and take such a long time to get to. It was as she explored this room for the first time, looking for books or anything really that pertained to Mord–Sith, that she noticed the two identical items that sat on a black marble pillar in the far corner of the room.

She had recognized the bronze swirls over the dark glass, the iron clasps. Sitting side by side were the two Quillions. They seemed harmless enough, sitting there. Cara knew that inside one was the power of the Confessor taken from Dennee, and in the other that of Annabelle. Seeing those two magical artifacts sitting there sparked the notion that this room was a storage room, and that all of the things she saw laying around her were in fact objects of dangerous magic. When faced with the scroll and the two chests containing the heads of her fellow Mord–Sith, Cara knew immediately where she could place them for safe keeping.

She slipped a short note under the scroll, on which read ‘Magic. Weapon to kill Lord Rahl?’ She hoped that when Zedd returned he would know what to do with them, but in the mean time, as long as they were nowhere near Kahlan and her curious hands, she could breathe easier.

Cara walked over to the corner, and the two Quillions. She walked around the pillar, part of her wanting to touch the outer casing, to feel the intricate metal loops, but not knowing exactly what would happen if she did. Her lack of knowledge was frustrating.

With a sharp exhale she turned and left the room. She had too much to do; standing around thinking in this damp room wouldn’t solve anything.

* * * * *

His low moans and his blood chilling screams did not invoke in her the same emotional tide that she felt when she touched Cara in this way. It seemed half there, the emotions, as if, when the whip cracked just before it struck his flesh her soul sighed in resignation. That this was not what she wanted, but was merely what she needed.

And that realization bothered Kahlan.

Because she knew she was not abusing Drefan because she cared, in fact if the world was without him she would be happy. No, she swung the whip, and her firsts, because each and every blow that landed, she felt as well. Through the bond she held to from him, she felt each punishing strike, as if she were standing alone in the room and swinging the cat–o’–nine over her shoulder and its knots were licking at her own skin. It was the hidden truth to why she craved these moments in the dark room with him. He brought her the pain she desired.

Pain that, she wished Cara could provide her.

* * * * *

Rikka stepped from the shadows, her eyes moving over Cara quickly, before she nodded to the door behind her. “She is still inside. You look no worse for wear.”

“You heard then?” Cara asked her.

“Word travels fast, especially when the prized Mord–Sith of the Mother Confessor slaughters a queen.”

“She had it coming.”

“I am sure that she did.” Rikka replied, her lips turning into a smirk. “I also heard about a dress.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”

“I would never even dream of it.” Rikka said as Cara stepped pasted her and into the small chamber where Shota had taken to reading and researching. There was a large window off to one side, and the view of the deep mountain cavern if provided was impressive in its complete lack of life. It was almost as if one had framed a portrait of the side of a cliff face. It was, peaceful in a way to Cara, what it lacked, it in fact accented. Each time she looked out the window she was overcome with the image of a thick meadow, full of grass and flowers. She shook he head, it was probably a spell of some sort. The Keep was thick with them.

“Cara. This is unexpected. I thought you would be busy with the gala.” Shota said from behind the long table, though she did not look up.

“The gala is over. It ended abruptly once I killed Queen Milena and her wizard.” Cara said evenly, and Shota raised her eyes from the book she was reading.

“Oh?”

“The Wizard was going to kill Lord Rahl.”

“Ah,”

“Ah? They walked into the Confessor’s Palace, without hesitation and tried to kill Kahlan and Drefan, and your response is ‘Ah’?”

“Tried is different than succeeded.”

Cara slapped her hand down on the large table. “This is not some joke, Witch! If you can see events in the future, then why did you not see this?”

“Because it was not worth my seeing. Do you really think you need to worry about one little wizard? He was easily dispatched, I am sure. You look unharmed, and if anything had happened to the Mother Confessor, well,” she chuckled, “I doubt you would be here. I told you both that people will continue to be visited and ultimately controlled by the Dream Walker. People will keep trying to kill Lord Rahl.”

“While you will sit idly by and do what?” Cara snapped. “You have been in here for days and yet you still say you have found nothing? Why am I beginning to think that you aren’t looking for what we agreed upon? Instead you are searching for something all together different.”

“The trust of Mord–Sith is not something I would ever expect.”

“Good.” Cara growled. “Because I don’t. You have sent me in circles, telling me that I am the one to blame for what is happening to her. Yet you offer nothing. NOTHING.” Cara leaned closer to her, and while her voice’s tone grew in anger, the volume dropped lower.

“Cara, I have been trying to help you. Her headaches are as they were. No better, and no worse.”

“It feels more and more that you have been playing me for a fool. That you just wanted an excuse to be allowed in here, to root through books and whatever else you have been exploring, all for your own gain. We agreed, you could be here, if you helped me to cure Kahlan. If you were able to find a way. You have not done that. You have not even been able to tell me anything new about the Dream Walker. I am through playing games with you, sorceress.”

“Fine.” Shota crossed her arms. “Are you done with your little tirade? I am busy.”

Cara’s nerves snapped and she reached down and flipped the massive oak table before Shota.

Childish she knew, but it had felt good to lash out at something.

* * * * *

With a sigh of rejection Kahlan leaned against the stone wall and slid down, bringing her knees up before her, and crossing her arms over them.

“Mistress, have I displeased you?” Drefan asked, his voice hoarse.

She set her chin on her knee, and let the bloody leather whip fall to the ground. “No, Drefan.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Why did I even start?” She mumbled to herself. The headaches would abate for awhile, when all her focus was on the swing of her arms. But her hands ached for the scream of the Agiel, and part of her desperately needed release, and she only found a half hearted feeling of that when she was here with him. It made no sense to her, doing these things. Kahlan Amnell was not a monster. She was not a cruel woman, but she wondered when it had been enough, when would Drefan’s abuse be just punishment for what he did and what he had intended to do. The line was there, in the distance, she knew it was, that line that she dare not cross; when these sessions in the dark of night went from his acceptable punishment to her own ravenous need to cause pain.

“Mistress?”

“Why did want to become Lord Rahl?” She asked softly, her eyes closing.

“To rule. To have power.”

“Why?”

He was quiet for a moment, and slowly she opened her eyes, realizing and not caring that a tear crept from the corner of her eye. She took in his naked chest, covered in new welts and cuts, and the scars of the old. His loosely fitting black pants were hanging limply on his hips, wet from blood and sweat. Part of Kahlan wondered when she had become this person. One who could last out at another in cruelty? This was not who she was, and every time she lashed out at him, every time she hurt him she was reaching for the impossible. She was trying to hurt herself. And perhaps she was, perhaps as the Mord–Sith inside of her howled at giving another pain, the Mother Confessor in her was sickened and fueled with guilt.

“Lord Rahl is the ultimate ruler. I would have a kingdom, I would have servants and followers, and I would be adored.”

“Adored?” As she said the word her mind flashed the image of Cara, in that stunning blue gown, her smile genuine and honest and full of adoration. Not because Kahlan was the Lord Rahl; no the look of love in Cara’s eyes was the love she felt for Kahlan. For who she was and because of what she was. Love that made her do things such as wear a fitted dress to a silly Gala; love that moved her limbs without effort as she sliced the throat of someone threatening Kahlan. Her mate adored her. And she felt the same.

“Yes, Mistress. Growing up the bastard child of Lord Rahl? I was not loved. I was cast aside as I have no real magic of my own. I was not wanted… but to be Lord Rahl? He is loved above all others.”

“Love.” Kahlan looked at him, seeing his empty face, knowing he was nothing more than flesh and bones, soulless. “They do not love the Lord Rahl. It is magic. It is empty.”

“It would have felt real enough for me.” he answered, his lips turning into a sneer. The part of him that was still inside, the part of him that hated Kahlan issued forth a low laugh. “Empty love, which you know all about, Confessor. Your people love you, because they fear you. Even your whore only loves you out of fear of you. So how is that any different than what I wanted?”

Her eyes moved to the large window in this room, seeing the fading light of day, and comforted in the darkness that would soon come.

“It’s not.” Kahlan replied, staring hard at him. She had become used to the switching back and forth of his personality. The interchange from adoration to abhorrence. It was refreshing. When he was vile, hurting him was easier.

“Strike me dead as you should have done.”

“Death is not punishment enough. You live so that each and every day you suffer a fate worse than a thousand deaths.”

“What did I ever do that was so wrong?” He asked.

“It was what you intended to do.”

“You punish me for intent?” He laughed. “Then who will punish you for what you have done?”

“Every moment I spend here with you, Drefan, I punish myself.”

* * * * *

Men moved out of her way as she stomped through the narrow halls of the barracks, her fingertips resting on her Agiel, and her face focused. Cara knew walking into this place was a slight insult to the Home Guard, and their looks of distain echoed that feeling, but she didn’t care. She refused to sit, doing nothing. Not that she was expecting much from this visit, but it was a thought that was tickling at the back of her mind, and Cara decided to follow it through.

Her flat palm hit the door, and it swung open. Sergeant at Arms Wyborn was sitting at ease behind his desk; clearly her approach had already been announced.

“Sergeant.”

“Mord–Sith.” He replied.

She smiled at his tone. One of respect sprinkled with annoyance.

Cara closed the door behind her, and then approached him in the small room, her eyes taking in the rough hewn logs that made up the walls, the Mother Confessor’s official crest that hung on the wall behind him. Maps had been tacked to various other walls.

“I was going to send this over to the Palace.” He said, turning and lifting the sword from where it rested against the wall. “There was no need for you to come here.”

Between his words she read his true statement, she was not wanted in this place.

“Thank you.” She offered as he set Kahlan’s sword on his desk. She noticed the fresh polish on the metal of the sheath, the strong new black leather straps on the baldric. Her eyes looked at his, and he nodded to her unvoiced question. Cara’s finger tips moved over the swords handle, where once there had been a braid of leather in black and green, the colors of Kelton, there now was thick blood red leather.

“Mord–Sith leather is not easy to come by.” He said kindly. “I think that it does the weapon justice. Reminds it perhaps what its purpose in life is.”

“To protect the Mother Confessor. To be an extension of her power, her rage, and justice.” Cara added, meeting his eyes for a moment. “Just as I am.” He nodded, and she bit the inside of her lip, to remind her to be respectful to this man, a man whom Kahlan looked to for advice and support. “Thank you, Sergeant, for this.”

“Of course.” His smile did reach his eyes this time.

“I came to see you, for an all together different matter.”

“The ruckus at the gala?”

“Partially.” Her fingers lifted from the handle of the sword, and she searching his face, finding his serious expression that seemed to reflect her own. Her fingers drummed on the cold steel as she thought about the Dream Walker. That she was able to control a witless queen was one thing, but also a fairly strong wizard was another thing all together. Whoever was burning on the pyre behind the palace, the wizard had enough foresight to use wizard’s fire, though he had been foolish and untrained to attempt its use on a Mord–Sith. Perhaps he had been unaware of who Cara was, she was after all in that silly dress.

Shota had warned of this, that the gifted would be coerced or turned to fulfill the Dream Walker’s desires, which seemed very clear. Kill Lord Rahl, and capture the Mother Confessor. Based on the actions of both would be assassins their secret was still kept. This Dream Walker did not know that those two were one and the same. “The elite guards for the Mother Confessor?”

“What of them?”

“Would they, in your estimation, be willing to devout themselves to Lord Rahl?”

“Never.”

“Hmmm.” She tapped her finger on his desk. “If they were ordered by you to say the devotions?”

His eyes narrowed. “Their heart would not be in those words.”

“I was afraid of that.” Cara pursed her lips. She had expected as much. This seemed to only leave her one option, one that she was not in complete control of. “Things are happening, in the Midlands, as well as here, you know that don’t you?

“I do. I see it on the streets, hear it spoken in the meal hall. We see it in the attempted assault on the Mother Confessor in her very own Palace. The unrest? The suspicion, the hatred for D’Hara, all seems on the rise.”

“Forgive my ignorance, but do the people of the Midlands know much of magic?”

“Of course. The Midlands is a thriving kingdom full of the wonders of magic.”

“In D’Hara we know magic, but we always equate magic with our Lord Rahl. Lord Rahl is the magic against the magic, while we, the people, the soldiers, the Mord–Sith, are the steel against the steel. In that regard we know of magic… but almost fear it. Fear because we do not understand it.” Cara looked up at him, to see if he was still following her train of thought. His blue eyes seemed clear and open. “The Queen and the Wizard I killed?”

He nodded.

“They were not acting on their own accord.” She looked at her gloved hands. Part of her mind told her to hold her tongue, that she did not know this man, nor did she know his true intent, and if he was loyal to Kahlan, or had been corrupted by the magic of the Dream Walker. She sighed. “Do you know anything about Dream Walkers?”

He crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. “Stories. Fables told to children. I was raised in the far south, along the edges of the Kern River. Tales such as those were common place. As were the tales of the wild eyed D’Haran giants.” His fingers scratched the incoming beard on his chin.

“They are not fables.”

“You know this how?”

Cara’s brow furrowed. “I only believe what I see, much like you.” She regarded him for a moment, and in her apprehension it was almost as if she could feel the gentle touch of Kahlan’s hand on the back of her neck, comforting her, telling her that she could trust this man. “Shota, the Witch Woman came to the Mother Confessor, and spoke of this Dream Walker. And now? Seeing what happened this day, with the Queen and Wizard, I am convinced that the threat is real.”

“If there was such magic, why would this Dream Walker not enter in your mind?” He said forward. “You are the one closest to her. You could easily kill both the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor.”

Cara nodded. “The power of a Dream Walker cannot reach me, or any other Mord–Sith. Nor can it reach any truly devoted D’Haran.” She said evenly.

“The devotions.” He said softly understanding.

“Yes. When spoken with truth and conviction? They protect the minds of those bound to Lord Rahl from the intrusion of the Dream Walker.”

“Men and women of the Midlands will not, with honesty of heart, devote themselves to another.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk angrily.

“Then all of the Midlands will become the enemy of the Mother Confessor and the Lord Rahl.” Cara said.

“Only D’Harans can keep her safe.”

“Or those devoted to Lord Rahl.” she did not yet voice the other option.

She watched as the seas of emotions began to churn in his eyes and on his face. She allowed him a moment or two to truly think about what she had said, before she pressed him with the reason she came here.

She took the sword from the desk, and pulled it slightly free of the scabbard, appreciating the brilliant shine of the blade. He had done a wonderful job. While Cara did not favor blades in the same way that Kahlan did, she knew and appreciated fine craftsmanship.

“We will change the guard detail around the Mother Confessor immediately.” He said.

“In the morning will be fine. She will…” Cara dropped the blade home, looking up at him. “She will be fine tonight. I will see to it.”

He nodded, accepting this.

“Sergeant, what if I asked for six of your strongest, meanest, fiercest soldiers? That their loyalty, their character did not matter so long as they posses strength and cunning.”

“I would wonder why.”

“The Mother Confessor needs guards who will die for her. Follow her every command. Incorruptible.”

“Confession.” His whispered, putting his hands flat on the desk.

“Yes.”

“Kahlan Amnell will not confess someone unjustly.”

She believed him, but Cara also knew her mate, and knew that this may be something she could get her to waver on, this once. “What would you say?” Cara stressed.

“I would provide you these men. If she will do as you are suggesting.”

* * * * *

The stone of the floor rushed up to greet the side of her face as Berdine was shoved eagerly to the ground. With her hands tied behind her back, all she could do was fall forward. Not that the feeling of these specific stones slamming against her cheek was a new one to her. On the contrary. She had been broken in this temple as a child. And she had been broken again here from time to time. She closed her eyes for a moment, not so much in remembrance of moments past here, but in a way making peace with her current situation. Being captured she could live with, the sound of Raina as she was forced to her knees, the air bursting from her lips, beside her. That was not something Berdine wanted to live with.

“Oh look, the two love birds have returned.” A familiar voice said slowly, and Berdine could not stop her head from snapping up in shock. Her eyes rounded in astonishment as the Mord–Sith stalked slowly into view. “Interesting that just the two of you came all this way. Have you forgotten so much of your teachings? Never make siege with less than four. But no, for some reason you came here, just the two of you? What? In the hopes of having some sort of private time?” She laughed, her full lips pulling back into a sneer.

“You… you are dead.” Berdine hissed.

“Please. Kill a Mord–Sith? It takes a little more than a broken neck.” Triana said with a smirk. “If Cara had been thinking clearly she would have tossed my body onto a pyre.” Her eyes twinkled angrily. “She can’t even kill properly. Clearly, seeing as how the two of you are still alive.” Her eyes rolled.

“So you are a baneling?” Raina asked, because Berdine was having difficulty forming words.

Triana, who Berdine had watched have her neck snapped in Cara’s hands. Triana who had rallied the Mord–Sith against Cara after Darken Rahl’s death. Triana who was cold, deceitful, and who had always possessed some strange sway over Cara.

“Why would I need to be a baneling? There were a dozen Mord–Sith at that battle of the caves. The breath of life was all I needed. Do not think your absence, when I did return to the living was over looked, Berdine. Where ever did you run off to?” She snapped her gloved fingers. “Oh, let me guess. You went to the People’s Palace, running with your tail between your legs for her.” She gripped Raina’s face in her hands angrily. “She always runs to you.” She glared down at Raina.

“I ran to serve Lord Rahl.” Berdine growled, wishing that she could break the rope around her wrists and snap Triana’s neck again. This time she would take her head off, to be sure the job was complete.

“You can’t lie to me, so don’t bother. I know you ran to your precious Raina.” She back handed Raina, and Berdine felt it in empathy. “You serve a false man. I serve the true Lord Rahl. And you will again. Unless of course you merely break and die.” She stood tall and walked to stand before Berdine, glaring down at her. “I’ll make you a promise, Berdine. If you die while I am breaking you? You know, as you always did in the past? Well, this time? I won’t bring you back. And when the true Lord Rahl returns, and when he tires of Raina again…we will see to it that she joins you.” She ran her finger along Berdine’s cheek, and she felt her eyes flashing like razors at her. She dared this woman to try and break her again. She would find a way to hurt her. Every blow she delivered to Raina, Berdine would catalogue and she would be sure that it was returned in kind to Triana. “It is the least I can do for how you are going to help me.”

“Help you?” Berdine laughed. “Why would I help you? To what end? Your delusions of a Lord Rahl? I have kneeled before our sovereign Lord Rahl, and basked in the light and power.”

“Oh, you will help me alright. Or I will, one by one, break every bone in your dearest Raina’s body.”

Berdine bit her tongue and felt before she tasted the blood blossom in her mouth.

“You will do as I ask, when I ask.” She growled. “Cara needs to return to her true family. And to me.” She smiled devilishly. “And I think I know just how to get her here. But first, there are a few things we need to do.”

The Agiel slammed against her chin shockingly. It had been a long time since she had felt the full weight of rage behind the weapon, and it bore through her jaws, rattling her teeth and as she opened her mouth to scream, Berdine instead spit her mouthful of blood in Triana’s face.

She smiled hearing Triana’s scream of outrage, before the pressure to the side of her head filled her mind with a loud pop, and darkness consumed her.

* * * * *

The cold had seeped through her leathers, and even through the gloves on her hands. Not that she noticed at the time. No, it was not until she was standing here, on the balcony, the wind slicing through the night and the air, when she took off her gloves and tucked them away behind her belt that she felt the burning heat of her skin, and that prickling sensation of the cold that seemed deep inside of her, deep enough to make her bones feel brittle.

Kahlan was not in their chambers.

And as Cara had walked across the Palace grounds, she kept her back to the eastern walls, not wanting to look up, not wanting to be the woman standing in the cold shadows looking into windows praying for just a glimpse of a familiar shadow. No. That would have been too much.

When Kahlan would disappear for hours at a time, Cara would pretend that she did not know where she was. But in time the truth would return and with it an ache. An ache she did not recognize and that she hated. She hated feeling the way she did. She hated that the ache would move her to near tears when she would wake in the night and find the bed she lay in cold.

Cara’s hands moved over her chest, where the feeling of ache grew, as she felt her mind reeling.

This should not matter.

She would not let it matter.

Her knuckles popped under the pressure of the fist her hand made, as with her other hand she flipped open the journey book again. After the long day Cara had taken a moment and looked inside to see if Berdine had left her a message… and what she saw chilled her, as much as the wind, as much as the spectacle of the gala, as much as the knowledge of where Kahlan was.

Suddenly the distance felt oppressive, that like everything else, Berdine and Raina’s safety seemed so far from her grasp and her control. Cara was not used to all of these emotions, feelings. Her eyes glared out over the new darkness, the birth of the night, and she wiped angrily at her eyes, annoyed with the tears that were there.

This was not like her. She should be numb. This should not matter, she told herself over and over again.

Behind her, in the chamber, she heard a door open and then close.

* * * * *

“What is the matter?” Kahlan asked as she walked behind Cara, slipping her arms around her waist.

Cara had been gazing out over the city, palms flat on the wall of the balcony, the journey book open beside her hand. That was where Kahlan found her, and she had stood inside her bed chamber for a few moments, merely watching the rise and fall of Cara’s shoulders as she breathed. The snow from earlier had ceased, but the thick clouds hung overhead, glowing a deep orange as they reflected all of the light from the fires and candles burning in the city below.

Kahlan tightened her arms around Cara, feeling her back pressing firmly into her. The closeness was a comfort to her, as was the feeling of Cara’s hair on her cheek, and the smoothness of leather under her fingers.

“Something is not right.” Cara offered, one hand moving to rest on top of Kahlan’s over her stomach, the other turning the book ever so slightly. Even in the faint light Kahlan could make out the precise and neat script that she now associated with Berdine.

We took the northern approach to the temple, and have discovered it surrounded by a platoon of Dragon Corps. We have not been able to determine why they are here, only that they are, and seeming to be guarding. We caught sight of what we believe was one Mord–Sith today through the north windows, on the floor where if I remember correctly the younglings reside. There has been no other outward sign of their presence. We determined that we would not wait for your response, as we are very well aware of their infrequency. At dawn we will make our way to the temple, and as Raina stated, will slaughter anyone who stands in our way.

“She is always so formal.” Kahlan observed.

“Yes.” Cara sighed.

“You don’t like that there are soldiers there.”

“No. I do not. They should not be. The northern temple is not a place where soldiers would stay; it was reserved for training and a home base in the northern territory for the Mord–Sith. When Darken Rahl died all the temples reverted back to their autonomy, until commanded otherwise by the new Lord Rahl. Soldiers should never go there. If they did, it was not for debate or to discuss the weather.”

Kahlan could hear her teeth grinding.

“So tell them not to attack. Tell them to leave there and travel somewhere else?” Kahlan suggested.

Cara flipped the page over, and written in her sprawling hand, covering the entire page was; Do not attack. Return here. NOW!

“I’ve waited… no response.” She slammed the book closed. “Their entry could have been from this morning, or two days ago. I just didn’t think to check.” Kahlan felt her sag slightly in her arms. Her voice was low. “If anything happens to them, it is my fault.”

“Shouldn’t it be the fault of the person who brings them harm?”

Cara turned in her arms; her eyes Kahlan could now see were wet from tears. “As you and I have discussed, the soldiers are merely following orders, yes part of the blame of a death is on their hands, but the person at the greatest fault is the one who sent them there. I sent them there. Me.”

“Cara, you did not know.”

“You’re right. I didn’t. I sent them there as an excuse. I wanted them away from here, away from what I…” Her brows furrowed and she looked down, a look of shame coming over her face.

Kahlan reached out, and cupped her cheek tenderly, lifting her eyes back up to her. “Cara. You had their best interests at heart. You cannot blame yourself for this. Just as making assumptions and thinking the worst is not wise. You do not know what they found once they entered the temple.” Kahlan smiled softly, hoping her eyes conveyed her belief in Cara, that this was not her fault. She brushed her thumb slowly over Cara’s bottom lip. “You are not to blame.”

Cara’s eyes closed, and Kahlan felt her relax against her body with a low and intoxicating sigh. Her lips moved to kiss Kahlan’s fingers

Dangerously dark green eyes flashed open. Cara grabbed her hand, hard, as hard as her eyes were cold and effectual. “This blood under your fingernails. It is neither yours nor mine.”

Kahlan’s eyes went wide in fear, at the look in Cara’s as well as being so easily caught. “I can explain.”

“I know you can. But there is no need. I know… I know what you have been doing.” Cara’s voice was even and calm. The very worst sound from a Mord–Sith. “Did you think I was so naive? I know Kahlan!” She released Kahlan’s hand and stepped back, leaning against the stone wall. “Every single time you give me the tea, I taste it and it breaks me to know you are doing this. That you would rather me be drugged than let me help you.”

“I..but.”

“But nothing! I take it the tea, I drink it, I do as you wish, and I die a little inside.” Cara said, turning her face away from Kahlan. A backhanded slap would have been kinder than Cara’s words.

Kahlan honestly did not know what to say at that moment. She knew what she felt, but the words seemed to elude her.

“This… dark place, this… jealousy?” Her tear filled eyes looked over her shoulder, “I know you love me. I am devoted to you in every way… so why? Why do I feel this?”

Kahlan sighed, watching the sadness in her eyes. “To have love, you have hate. You can’t pick and chose what you feel, only that you feel… and I am sorry, Cara. That… that I have caused this.”

“You didn’t!” She shoved the journey book to the ground and as she stormed away from Kahlan, her boot fell heavily on it. Cara spun around. “Why…why you can’t just ask me to go there with you?”

“I’m frightened.”

“So it is easier to go to someone else for solace.”

Kahlan rushed forward and whether Cara liked it or not, she put her hands on her arms, grounding the both of them. “What I do with him is not solace. It is release.”

A mournful sob broke from Cara as she tried to turn away from Kahlan, but she would not let her go. Instead she pulled her into her arms, firmly, locking them around the back of the Mord–Sith.

“Cara.” She sobbed her name, and pressed her face into her neck. “I don’t want to be this creature. I… I don’t want to feel so much hate. I just want… I want beauty, and love. I want to be free of the nightmares and the pain.”

“I am sorry, Kahlan. But the only way for you to do that? To have that back? Is to find the beauty that lays within the pain. To find the harmony in the hate. I am sorry that I am torturing you so.”

“You aren’t.” This was not coming out as Kahlan hoped it would, she did not want Cara to think she blamed her. She was twisted inside, pulled in every direction and not knowing which was the true way or the just way. Kahlan was floundering in the place of not having enough time or strength for each aspect, and it exhausted her. Her eyes begged Cara to understand. She did not wish away this new knowledge, of knowing and being this new and wonderful thing, the thing Cara was… but she just needed time. The one thing she could never get enough of.

“No? Who did this to you? I did.” Cara said firmly. “It was my own ignorance or vanity… I did this to you, and for that I will always hold shame.”

Roughly Cara forced Kahlan’s hands to release her, and she stepped back, her eyes wide. “Cara?”

The blonde’s mouth moved, as though she was going to speak, but then she shook her head.

“Cara… please?” Kahlan pleaded.

“Did you get your fill of hate and rage with him?” She snapped.

“Yes.” Kahlan’s eyes fell to the stone floor.

“Good. Then I will give you love. I will give you beauty.” She said softly.

Kahlan’s eyes rose back up, as a soft whimper slipped from her lips, before Cara’s mouth was pressed to them, hungrily.

Part 12

Vaguely she felt fingers on her skin, perhaps her jaw, but she could not be sure. Consciousness slowly seeped into her mind, and with a low groan her eyes opened. With consciousness came the pain, pounding in her shoulders, and her head.

“Finally!” Triana’s voice snapped. “I swear, Berdine. You used to be formidable. Impressive, and could withstand so much pain. But one little smack to the head and you are knocked out cold.”

Her mouth felt like she had walked across the Azrith Plains, dragging her tongue along it’s barren ground. She coughed. “How long?” She mumbled.

“Nearly a day.” Raina’s voice offered, and she moved her eyes to her love, to see her face unmarked, but her eyes swallow, and the white was red, as if she had been crying. Berdine was suddenly angry at herself, for being unconscious for that long. For not being there to protect Raina. They flash in her deep dark eyes chastised Berdine for even thinking such a thing. She nodded softly to the brunette, before looking forward, and seeing that Triana stood in front of her still, arms cross, as strange smile on her lips.

From the corner of the room a man walked closer. His long blue robes were adorned with stitching of silver. He was tall, with black hair that was cut short, and matched the well kept beard on his face. In it there were a few hints of grey, which seemed odd considering his youthful face. His eyes were almost as dark as his hair, his features were sharply formed. Berdine watched as his eyes moved over her and then Raina. When he grinned he appeared boyish. But somehow this estimation felt wrong to her.

“This is Neville.” Triana said softly, walking behind him, and setting her hand on his shoulder, leaning into him. The man’s face seemed to grow with the shine of joy, at having the Mord–Sith fawning over him. Clearly, who ever this man was, he did not understand exactly who and what a Mord–Sith was. Because Triana was not moving into his body out of adoration or lust, it was to get close enough to confuse his senses, to manipulate the man he was. That was simple training.

Berdine considered him for a moment, and felt the humming of magic coming from his lanky body.

“Have you lost your mind?” Berdine said shocked. “A wizard? Here?”

Triana laughed softly, her fingers moving to the neck of this man’s dark blue robes, and she pulled it down, to reveal the ancient looking collar around his neck. “He’s a little kitten, really. Aren’t you Neville?”

His lips moved from a soft smile to a sneer. “Even kittens have claws.”

Triana rolled her eyes. “Fine. Yes you are a very powerful Wizard.” Her voice placated him, and whether he accepted her sarcasm for what it was or truth, she could not tell.

“They don’t feel very powerful.” He said to Triana.

“Of course not. These two? Are merely the stepping stones.”

“Don’t we have enough of those already?” He asked.

“Ah, but Neville. You don’t understand. They are very important stepping stones.” Triana ran her gloved finger along the edge of his beard. “Summon him?” She purred.

The Wizard lifted his hands, and holding his palms a small width apart chanted softly. The language was familiar, and the hair on Berdine’s arms lifted even under her leather. He was speaking High D’Haran, and the words were that of a summoning spell. One she had witnessed being cast before. What seemed like lifetimes ago, in the sacred garden at the People’s Palace.

There was a thick chafe of rough wind that moved around Berdine, and froze her skin. Her eyes flipped up sharply, leaving Triana and the Wizard, moving to the large open hearth, and the flames burning there, which rose higher and turned a sickly shade of green.

A shadow appeared, growing denser, until she could see the crooked smile, and the familiar empty eyes looking down at her. Her knees ached at the sensation of memory, of looking up at Darken Rahl from her knees, while he looked down on her with a smile of distain.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite librarian.”

Berdine bit her tongue, and was almost positive that she could feel the tight rage rolling off of Raina beside her.

“I was hoping to see you again, that you have managed to not visit me directly here in the Underworld, why it is a testament to your tenacity, Berdine.” He smirked. “That or you have been hiding away behind books, and as we know, books rarely swing swords.”

“You are dead and gone.”

“However here I stand.”

“Still dead, still gone.”

“Hm. Yes. The literalness is a bother. But, it is only temporary.” He smiled, looking to Triana and the Wizard. “Isn’t that right, my dears?”

“You will live again Lord Rahl. You will retake your place as our Lord and master, ruler of all D’Hara.”

He waved his ghostly hand at Triana. “Yes yes. Your excitement is noted.” Even in this form Berdine could feel the sinking sensation in her guts, at being under his hard gaze. “While the Seeker and his merry band of halfwit fools were able to thwart my Master and reseal the veil, there were consequences to his actions. And those consequences compel me to act. To return to the land of the living. And you, Berdine, will help us.”

“No. I won’t.”

“How many times will it take, for Triana, the other Mord–Sith, or even Neville here, to kill Raina in front of your very eyes, before you in fact will help me. Before you will do anything and everything I command?”

She swallowed.

He tapped his finger to his lips. “Mm. See? We will come to an understand, you and I. And once I am successful? I will reward you for your efforts.”

She shuddered, recalling exactly how he liked to reward her. Sensing her thoughts, Darken Rahl smiled joyfully. “You should get better acquainted with Neville… while he will soon be gone, well… his body will remain, and I plan on using it thoroughly. I have so missed breaking the two of you; it always brought me such joy, the taste of your tears.”

* * * * *

The curtains were drawn in the guest room, and it gave the whole room a sense of a dream, as though stepping inside she was moving from reality into something all together different. The woman, the Seer, was sitting at the small writing desk, a quill in her hand, but it was lifted from the paper, and her eyes did not turn to see Kahlan as she entered, on the contrary she was looking forward into nothing, her eyes wide but clouded.

Cautiously, as to not disturb her, Kahlan waved off Rikka, who glared at her before closing the door. Kahlan did not fear the Seer, her magic resided in visions, and she had no other magic. Gently she stepped further into the room.

The Seer shook her head slowly, and then her quill moved across parchment with rapid scratches.

“Good morning, Jebra.” Kahlan said when she was close enough to see over the woman’s shoulder, she had been drawing a map, not writing words. The Seer jumped slightly.

“Mother Confessor!” She moved to stand.

“No, it’s alright, sit.” Kahlan smiled. “I am sorry to disturb you.”

“Don’t be. You are the Mother Confessor, it is an honor just to be in your presence.”

Kahlan pursed her lips. “I trust your accommodations were acceptable.”

“More than, Mother Confessor.”

“Call me Kahlan.”

“I cannot.” She offered as her eyes looked up at her with sincerity. Kahlan sighed, expecting as much.

“A map?”

The blonde Seer lifted it and handed it to Kahlan. “Yes. You will need this one day.”

“Oh?” Kahlan looked at it, there were no names, but she could see two rivers, a large bay, and the markings of a forest.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I cannot say.” She hung her head.

“Cannot or won’t?” Kahlan asked.

“In this case, I cannot Mother Confessor. I only saw that you would need this map, in the future.”

Kahlan bit back the annoyance she felt, that she felt often when speaking with a Seer, a Prophet, or a Witch Woman. Anyone who saw glimpses of a future that may or may not come to pass. The ambiguity of it was draining.

“Last night, when you touched my hands, what did you see?” Kahlan asked, leaning on the edge of the desk.

“You will not like what I saw.” Jebra replied, looking down at her ink stained hands.

“I need to know.”

Her bright blue eyes looked up at Kahlan. “Do you? Perhaps in the knowing you will alter events.”

“You have a point. You stated emphatically that I must leave Aydindril. Were you referring to the failed attempt on my life at the gala?”

“No. That was just the first attempt, there will be many more. But… that was not what I saw, when I touched you. No what I saw… “ She looked down at her hands. “You must leave.”

“Why must I leave?”

“You will die here if you do not. You must leave immediately.”

Kahlan thought about that for a moment. It was far from the first time in recent days she had been told that she would die if she stayed here, nor did she doubt the truth of this woman’s vision. What she doubted was that destiny and fate were so solidly written that events could not be changed. “And where do you propose I go?

“Anywhere. Just away. You must get away from Aydindril and the Mord–Sith.”

“That is preposterous.” Kahlan laughed. She had not expected that addition.

“I beg of you, Mother Confessor… please.” The Seer’s eyes were wide, and as Kahlan looked at her, really looked at her as a Mother Confessor would she could see the woman was not only telling her the truth but that she was honestly terrified for her.

“I am sorry, Jebra, but no. I may consider leaving Aydindril, as I had planned to this spring anyway… but I will not remove myself from the Mord–Sith.”

“Mother Confessor, I am sorry to say this but you must. Especially from Cara.”

“Never.” Kahlan said her jaw clenching.

“You don’t even ask me why?”

“The why?” Kahlan laughed sadly. “The why does not matter to me. Because it will not happen. I will not leave her side.”

“She will kill you.” Jebra whispered.

“Then I welcome death.” Kahlan snapped.

* * * * *

Richard’s curiosity was grating. Though, Nicci could see that as the Seeker he would not merely take what she had to say at face value. He needed to see for himself the size of the coming threat, yet she did not think it was safe. Not that what she thought seemed to matter. At least, as she looked over her shoulder at the large horse, on which the even larger man, Chase, sat, he had allowed her to keep him controlled. Chase was hardly gifted, so binding him magically was simple, and keeping him bound was not a drain at all on her magic. On the contrary, she could barely feel him struggling at the invisible shackles that were around his wrists. Richard had asked her to use literal bindings, rope or something similar. All that was required in way of a dispute was a look from her, and a laugh from Chase. That man was imaginative as he was strong. Even links of chain would probably not hold him, nor keep him from doing what he desired. Which was, killing Richard.

There was bitterness to the air, and it seemed familiar to her, as their horses crested another of the low lying hills south of Anderith. It reminded her of the springs of her youth, when the wind would roll over the sandy deserts of the Barrier Valley, through the rotting jungles, and the sparse farm land of the Old World. The air smelt of desperation and human suffering.

She found herself smiling at the scent of it.

But it was not a smile of pleasure.

Richard’s horse had stopped, and she came up beside him, while the Wizard and the Boundary Warden were still some distance behind.

“What is that?” Richard asked softly.

Nicci looked at Richard, noticing the thoughtful look on his face. She followed his gaze, and saw in the far distance a shadow on the green hills. A shadow that seemed to move, undulate. And then Nicci heard it as well.

“What is that sound?” Richard asked again.

“Battle drums.” Nicci said.

When she left the Old World, and the Palace of the Prophets, her mission had been clear, the plans made and carried out in the service of the Keeper. Destroy all life. Assist her master in his ascension. She took nothing with her, save her power, and memories were like collected baubles of childhood, left behind as they had no real purpose. However, memories, even when you leave them behind, have a way of following you.

The sound of battle drums was one such memory.

The pulse of it. The constant beating that was so similar to that of a human heart. Continual. Terrifying and calming at once. The beating of the drums signaled the arrival of the Emperor and his troops into a city in the Old World. There were places where the drums would beat for an entire year, constantly, achingly they would beat, until the Emperor arrived. Those drum beats had been the symphony of her actual youth, when as a small child, before she knew of the Sisters of Light and Dark, she had been a toe headed girl, living her life in the service of those with less than herself.

The throbbing beat of the battle drums were coming with the shadows in the distance.

“Battle drums?”

“Signaling the arrival of the Imperial Order.”

“Why would an army announce their arrival?”

“When you are a force as massive as the Imperial Order? You do not need to rely on stealth. You swarm, you arrive. And you take what is before you. No one can offer resistance.” She looked to him. “Do you believe me now, Richard? This is not some fairy tale, this is not some exaggeration. The Barrier is down; the Imperial Order is streaming into the Midlands. And there is nothing you can do to stop them.”

“I do not believe that.”

Nicci smiled. “No, I did not expect you would.”

“Do you think we could get a little closer?”

“This is almost too close. If you can see them at all, then they know you are here. And you, Richard Rahl, have a price on your head.”

“That I don’t understand.”

“Use your head, Seeker.” She began, and then a blinding pain filled her mind, and pulled the air from her lungs.

Pain was something Nicci knew and expected, and usually did not bother her. This was like someone had poured melted iron into her ears and it was slowly hardening inside of her skull. Her hands went to her head, as her vision went from white to the black of unconsciousness.

She thought that for a moment she heard Richard calling her name.

* * * * *

The Seer had refused to talk about what she had seen when she touched Cara, it was as though she was so mortified that Kahlan would so matter–of–factly denounce her vision, that she would die at Cara’s hand that she was unsure what more to say, or even how to sit in the room with her. The woman’s demeanor had changed to nervous apprehension, as if part of Jebra could sense the angry Mord–Sith that lived inside of Kahlan, who had been pacing back and for in her mind, enraged that someone would dare to tell her that she had to separate herself from her Sisters of the Agiel.

Before her inner Mord–Sith got out of hand, Kahlan had excused herself. Once outside the Seer’s rooms she asked Rikka to be sure that guards were placed outside, and that the Seer was made comfortable, but that she was not allowed to leave the Palace. No, Kahlan had further questions, but knew she needed to calm before she asked them. Just to be sure her anger did not lash out at the innocent woman.

“This will cause quite a discontent with the Council, Mother Confessor.” The magistrate said, as he tightly held his skull cap in his hands. His aged eyes colored yellow by time and wisdom moved around the room with worry, looking everywhere but her. She wondered what he was thinking. Surely he was shocked at the events of the previous night, but he seemed even more uneasy.

“I do not care. They came here, into MY HOME to do harm. Their punishment fit the crime.” Kahlan said her voice cold. “The Council should know and expect, if someone comes before me with intent to do harm, that offense is and will be punishable by death.”

“I understand that Mother Confessor, but.”

“No. Not arguments. That has been the rule of law for centuries, that I have not been enforcing it? Well that time is now over. I will enforce it, and swiftly.”

His eyes landed on her for a moment before he sighed heavily. “As you command, Mother Confessor. I will see to it that the notifications are written, and delivered with your seal to all the kingdoms and all the members of the Council.”

“Good. That is all.” She snapped, and he half bowed, and half scurried from the room.

“Well, it seems as though you are starting the morning productively.”

Kahlan looked to the door, watching as Cara came in, her voice had been jovial, but her expression was anything but. She searched her face, and was rewarded with the sparkling glimmer in her eyes. She smiled sadly.

“We are trying.” Kahlan said. “How has your morning been?”

“Productive as well.” Cara offered, as she stepped closer to her desk. “I think it is about time.” Cara’s voice said softly, as an Agiel rolled across the wood to rest in front of Kahlan. Her eyes looked at the weapon, and though she registered Captain Ryan clearing his throat in the corner, it did not matter. All that seemed to matter was the low hum of the Agiel calling to her, and how her fingers instinctively twitched in want.

“Are you sure? You said.” Kahlan’s eyes looked up at Cara as she stood before her, eyes clear and focused.

“What I said before was probably wrong. I am tired of tip toeing around this, and certainly tired of seeing you in this state. I know what it feels like to not have this near.” Her eyes flicked to the Captain, who was trying to slowly leave the room. From Cara’s expression she had hoped he would hurry, but she sighed. “We need to talk.”

“Talk?” Kahlan asked, knowing that she did not want to talk at all. Part of her, inside wanted to lift the red leather weapon and feel the familiar weight, and wanted her palm to burn with the pain. She licked her lips slowly. “We can talk.”

“Later.”

“Mmhm. Later.” Kahlan forced herself to look up, and saw the same passion she felt in her blood reflected in Cara’s eyes.

“Any new information on that Wizard?” Cara asked, changing the subject.

“Apparently his name was Marlin. Not that it matters.”

“I suppose your right. It doesn’t. Are you almost ready to go visit General Reibisch?”

Kahlan nodded, and slowly her fingers lifted the Agiel. The pain sang to her, and her mind focused, the headache that had been growing abated, and she felt as though she was invincible. Standing, she slipped the weapon into the holster that she had been wearing under her dress, wearing for weeks, in the hopes that this moment would come. Her eyes locked onto Cara’s as she put the Agiel in it’s place against her thigh.

“Yes. I am ready now.” Kahlan sighed heavily as she removed her hand from the Agiel, and felt the throbbing in her thigh.

* * * * *

The touch of a hand on hers snapped her mind from the blackness that had consumed her. She was no longer on the grassy plains beside Richard. No, now Nicci was standing in the center of a barren waste land of dry and cracked earth, the sky above her a thick purple color, and the clouds a painful white. Glaring she looked down, to see a small girl holding her hand.

Her robes and shawls were all different colors of the earth, their tones complementing one another and her hair while mostly covered by a head wrap, was a dark brown and held soft waves. Her face was as young as she was, her eyes a startling white. It was the combination of her desert clothing, and those eyes that made Nicci’s mind lock on to what had been teasing about the edges for all this time.

“You.” She said softly, as realization came over her. She was in her mind, and this was the Dream Walker. The one who had been prodding and poking at her mind for months.

“More or less.”

“I thought that it had just been a foolish Sister or Wizard, attempting to put a spell of obedience on me.”

“Nothing that simple.”

“Nothing ever is.” Nicci said, looking closely at the girl, and suddenly not minding that she still held her hand. It gave her a sense that this child was just that. It seemed to fit, the urging in the dreams she had, were gentle, compared to how they could be. A child, who still possessed a sliver of innocence, would use her power to urge, versus torture into submission. There were traces of innocence in her white eyes. “It was when Chase was affected that I began to suspect. Why can I see you? How are you able to force me here now?”

“I am close.”

“You are with the marching Army?”

“I am.”

Nicci regarded her again, before pulling her hand away. “Your eyes should be black.”

“They will be. When the next phase is complete.”

“You need to fully mature.”

The girl nodded.

“And I am here with you now, why?”

“You must devote yourself, you have to protect yourself.” She said earnestly.

“Why? You have no true power over me.”

“Not yet, but soon? She is making sure of it.”

“She?”

“She who controls me.”

“A true Dream Walker cannot be controlled.”

The girl looked at her, but did not speak.

“I am sorry.” The girl offered sadly. “She has managed to find your weakness.”

“I have no weaknesses.”

The young girl smiled sadly. “That is not true. Do what needs to be done, because I will have control over you soon.”

“Why are you doing her bidding?” Nicci asked.

“I have no choice in this matter.”

“I see.”

“I do not think that you do see, Nicci.” The young girl hung her head, as the voice that spoke was not her own. Instead it was a voice that lived in a higher pitch, sharp along the edges, and holding a slight accent. An accent from the southern reaches of the Old World. An accent that while familiar was not one that Nicci had heard in a long time. “But you will see. Soon? Soon I will have you under my thumb, and I guarantee my control over you will be much more painfully efficient than that of the Keeper.”

“Show yourself, if you are so confident.”

The girl looked up at her, and the dry and cracked riverbed where she stood seemed to smoke and shutter, and all the while, as the thick white and grey of clouds moved around the girl she changed, she grew taller, her limbs becoming almost frail. And her body became swathed in ribbons of black, which moved with an unseen wind, lifting long black hair that was now covering a ghastly pale face. Faint ice blue eyes looked out from behind the veil of jet black hair.

“You.” Nicci whispered shocked at the realization that washed over her.

“I will have you. I will have each and every one of the gifted in your world, and when that is done they will lead me to the Mother Confessor and with her as my weapon? No one, no land is safe.”

“You are insane.” Nicci said softly to the sorceress, the one who could make even the cockiest of the Sisters of the Dark tremble in fear. A sorceress who was frail on the exterior, but who seemed to be timeless, as timeless as hate, as timeless as the shadows she wrapped around herself.

“Perhaps. But you know I speak the truth Nicci. There is nothing you can do. You will bend under my will.”

* * * * *

She sat up, gasping for air, feeling as though she had just been under water. That was the feeling that had consumed her as she stood in that dreamscape. That all of the air had been removed from the world. Her hands fluttered to her chest as Nicci pulled in a lungful of sweet smelling air.

She realized that Richard’s hands were gently on her shoulders, and looking at him sharply she noticed his soft expression.

“Thank the Spirits. We were getting concerned.”

Her eyes moved, taking in the scene. The sun seemed to have only moved slightly, so she had not been unconscious too long. The Wizard stood off to the side, hands inside the sleeves of his robes, his expression school in calm. Richard on the other hand, was so close to her that she could not only smell the scent of his clothes and skin, but was sure that she was nearly resting in his lap.

She pushed herself away from him, and tried to clear her head.

“Nicci, what overcame you?” the wizard asked.

“You! You must all give the devotions to Lord Rahl. Make Chase do it as well.” She said, running her hand over her sweat slicked face.

“What are you talking about?” Richard asked.

“I know who is controlling my dreams.” Her eyes looked to the Wizard. “A child, a dreamcaster, one who has been given power beyond even her own young comprehension.”

“A dreamcaster!” the Wizard exclaimed.

“She came to me. She told me that the only way to be safe was to devote ones self to Lord Rahl. I know the histories, as I am sure you do as well, Wizard.” She stood on shaky legs. “She may be a dreamcaster now? But very soon she will have the full power of a Dream Walker.”

“But they are extinct.”

“Do you, with all your power and cunning, want to take that chance? Do you? You know very well what will happen when, not if, but when, the Dream Walker gains control of your mind.”

“What are you two talking about? Why do we have to do the devotions? I have not had any dreams, neither has Zedd.”

The Wizard ignored Richard, “But a child. Perhaps we can find her, explain that this is powerful magic, not to be toyed with.”

“The child is not our concern. We should be more worried about the sorceress who is controlling her somehow.”

“Controlling a Dream Walker?” His eyes narrowed. “Your expression is one of, dare I say, concern, if not bordering on fear. What did you see?”

“I saw the girl, and then She came to me. I saw who is pulling the strings.”

“Who Nicci?”

“I am not sure if you have a word or a story for her here in the Midlands. In the Old World? She was a myth and a legend when I was but an infant, some two hundred years ago. It was in her name you were cursed, and stories of her were told to terrify children. I thought it was all make believe. Until I became a Sister of the Dark. Until I stood face to face with her. The one that the darkness fears? That is her. They call her Six.”

“I see.” The Wizard said, as he rubbed his palms together nervously.

“You see now Wizard, what must be done?”

“Many things, Nicci. You are right.” He turned to Richard. “We all must swear allegiance to Lord Rahl, unwaveringly.”

“No. If that is what we must do? I think you are wrong. I have no loyalty at this moment to my brother, so why am I not under the control of this, Dream Walker, or the sorceress you speak of?”

Nicci shook her head. “You are an idiot. To whom is your devotion and loyalty sworn to?”

“Kahlan.” Richard replied without taking a pause.

“It is she, somehow, who is Lord Rahl. The bond moves through her. That is why the both of you are safe.”

“That is ridiculous.” Richard laughed.

Nicci crossed her arms, her eyebrows rising. “Oh?”

“Good Spirits.” The Wizard mumbled, before he dropped to sit on the ground, his eyes wide, his bushy eyebrows reaching for the sky.

Part 13

Kahlan allowed Nick to find his own footing through the busy crowds of the camp. As they emerged through the city gates, she was astonished at how the army seemed to have doubled in size over night. The Galean forces, some forty thousand in this first deployment, had set up their camp beside that of the D’Harans. As far as her eyes could see, were tents, smoke from fires, men milling around. Activity. It was a mobile city almost. It had been a long time since she had been surrounded by such a large military presence. Not since she had visited the camps of the Galean army when she was a very young child. In the mid morning wind the flags atop tents snapped, creating a strange undercurrent of sound.

It reminded her of the whip.

She looked to her side, to see Cara, her shoulders stiff, her eyes moving back and forth over the crowds. If Cara had gotten her way they would not have come into the belly of the army, instead General Reibisch would have come to them.

“I don’t like this.”

“So you have mentioned once or twice.”

“Well I don’t.” Cara grumbled. “We know that the Dream Walker can control the minds of anyone, and you think it is wise to walk through the center of one hundred thousand men? Even I think that is a little reckless.”

Kahlan laughed. “We don’t know for certain that the power of the Dream Walker can travel over large distances, and I doubt she is here in Aydindril. I am sure it will be fine.”

“Mmhm.”

“Oh don’t pout.” Kahlan chuckled.

“Pout! I do not pout. But I will keep saying that I do not like this!”

“I would expect no less from you.” Kahlan said, watching as Cara rolled her eyes.

* * * * *

She set her chin on the back of her hand that rested on the ledge of the bared window. She was familiar with this room, small and cold, higher up in the temple than those in the dungeon, but it was still a cell. It was still a place that made it all too clear that she was a captive, that she was not free. Except in her mind, which is where Berdine knew she was always free, no matter what was done to her.

The sky outside was turbulent with a coming storm. She could not tell yet if it would bring the thick flakes of snow, or the cleansing drops of rain. At least it was something other than sunshine. She did not want to know sun from inside this cage. Sunshine should be reserved for those moments of peace, moments such as the day she and Raina made love in the middle of the forest on their journey here. That was what she wanted to think of when she saw the sun. How it highlighted her skin, how it made her deep brown eyes sparkle.

Berdine sighed. “So, he was there, when you died?” She asked softly, her tone not angry, just resigned.

“Yes.”

“And you decided to lie to me, why?”

A hand settled on the small of her back. “I preferred to focus on being back in your arms. Is that so wrong?”

“No.” Berdine agreed, and then she did sigh again, this time because Raina slipped her arms around her waist and leaned her head against her back. It was comforting. “What did he say to you?”

“What he always says. ‘oh you were my favorite, oh how I love to torture, oh how I am so very superb.’ ” Raina grumbled. “He is just creepy.”

“I was thinking arrogant. But creepy? Yes that works.”

“How long do you think we have?”

“Knowing Triana? Not long. I am surprised they put us in here together actually.”

“I’m not.”

Berdine turned slowly, to keep Raina’s arms around her. “Oh?”

“How much more will it hurt when they do separate us?”

Berdine pursed her lips and nodded. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t. There is nothing to be sorry for. Are we not Mord–Sith? Are we not strong, resilient and powerful?”

“We are.”

“Then do not be sorry.”

“And when they”–

“No. Berdine, whatever comes to pass? The life I have lived with you has made it worth it. They can never take those moments from me. And if they do kill me, or you? We will meet again. In the afterlife.”

Berdine clenched her jaw to keep from speaking, from saying all the things they never spoke to one another. Things that were felt, and understood, without the need for words. Her eyes blinked, she knew that they did.

As if sensing her internal conflict, Raina pressed her cheek to her chest. “Either way? It will be fine.”

* * * * *

“This is ridiculous.” Prince Harold complained, tossing the rolled up map of D’Hara back across the table.

General Reibisch had just finished providing a detailed report from one of his scouts just returned from the far south of the Midlands. A report that had detailed a few small battles having been waged around the outskirts of Anderith, as well as a less detailed report of a substantial legion making its way up through the Wilds. A legion described as ‘a blight of fetid humanity that stretched from horizon to horizon, leaving nothing but death in its wake’.

Kahlan had attempted to temper that information with what she had learned so far of the Dream Walker, which she knew was not much, but should have been enough to get these men, her Generals, to understand that there was a serious threat moving into her lands.

Prince Harold seemed stubbornly oblivious to the information being presented. She did not remember him being so stubborn.

“It is not.” Kahlan offered. “We have yet to receive word from Renwold. That city lays directly in the path of this army. I believe that it would be in our best interests to send a small group of scouts south, to gain more detailed reports.”

“Perhaps we should also send men to the south of D’Hara? I know that the south of D’Hara is adjacent to the Old World. If I were moving an army north, that is the way I would direct them.” General Reibisch suggested.

“That is a good idea.”

“I have heard much about the speed and strength of the Galean Calvary.” General Reibisch complemented, turning to the younger man, who had been appointed High General of the Midland and D’Haran armies. “Perhaps, Prince Harold, you could send some of your men to the south east?”

“You cannot expect me, nor my men to run about in the deserts of your spiritless kingdom. No. You want to protect D’Hara? Then run back home and protect it. I still say there is no proof of this army coming from the south. I have never heard of an Imperial Order.”

“Just because you do not know of something does not mean that it does not exist. You are not all knowing, Prince Harold. You are a man that is all.”

“Have you seen this supposed army? Or what of this Dream Walker you speak of? All of it? Every last word? Makes you sound preposterous, Kahlan.”

Cara growled as her hands slammed into his shoulders, knocking him back four steps. “The MOTHER CONFESSOR will not be spoken to in such a way.”

“Cara, it’s alright.” Kahlan said, pinching her nose between her fingers, hoping desperately that this headache would be kind and abate for a while.

“No it isn’t.”

“I agree with the Mord–Sith. You need to be watching your tone, boy.” Sergeant Wyborn snapped, much to Kahlan’s surprise.

“Kahlan.” Prince Harold began but with Cara’s fingers digging into his tunic, and her face angrily staring at him, he amended. “Mother Confessor, I meant no disrespect. I thought we could speak freely here.”

“You can.” Kahlan rolled her eyes.

“Oh yes, let’s have the little boy run the army.” General Reibisch snapped under his breath.

“I do not appreciate your tone.”

“Both of you stop it. Yes, there is animosity between D’Hara and the Midlands, but we have something far greater to worry about. If these reports are correct, or even a slight exaggeration it is still enough that we need to be concern. This? This threat? It is real, and it is what will unify all the free peoples of the New World.” Kahlan said, standing, and began pacing.

“Fine. I concede to your point, Mother Confessor.” Prince Harold stressed her title, and for a moment Kahlan was convinced that Cara was going to punch him in the mouth. That she didn’t was a shock. Instead she released him and stepped back.

* * * * *

She watched as Prince Harold extended his arm to Kahlan, who took it, as they moved out of the large command tent. She felt her jaws clench. She knew that she shouldn’t feel this tingling of outrage but she did just the same. As Sergeant Wyborn stepped past her, she cleared her throat.

“A word, Sergeant?”

He stopped and turned setting his hands on his hips, waiting.

“Have you thought more about what we discussed last night?”

“I did not know that I should have been.” He said in a curt voice, yet his eyes twinkled with sarcasm.

“Perhaps you could speak with General Reibisch? I am sure that he would be more than happy to explain to you the value of the devotion to Lord Rahl.” Cara said, and noticed that General Reibisch looked up from his papers, his eyes very interested.

“While I appreciate your suggestions, do not think that my position has changed.”

Cara watched his face, and annoyingly she could not tell if he was being serious, or playing with her like a cat with a mouse.

“Has the Mother Confessor agreed to participate with your other request?”

“Not yet no. But that does not mean that she won’t. Have you found suitable men?”

“Perhaps.” The twitch of a smile that wanted to appear but was being kept hidden caused Cara to inwardly sigh.

“Talk to General Reibisch.” She suggested again.

The tall man nodded, and she walked out of the tent, to find Kahlan, and to be sure that she was no longer touching that annoying little Prince.

* * * * *

Her fingers tightened around Richard’s throat, and while Nicci was no Confessor, she did not need to be to destroy him. She had more magic in her body than he could comprehend, and the frustration at his continual arguing and lack of common sense was galling.

“RICHARD.” She growled, and he glared at her. It did not go unnoticed by her that the Wizard was still sitting on the ground, content to allow his mind to wander. “You need to just stop. Arguing with me for the sake of arguing is petty and childish. I thought you were a man. I thought you to be the great Seeker of Truth. You need to begin to live up to your destiny, or just stop living. I will help you either way you decide.”

“You would kill me?”

“If you keep acting this way? Yes. I will. And I am sure that your grandfather would applaud my efforts as then he can name a new Seeker, perhaps one who does not have his head hidden away in his own breeches.”

“I…. I…er.”

“Make your choice now, Richard Rahl. Will you stop fighting me every step of the way, will you listen, be open minded and try your very best to understand that the war that is coming is so much more important than your broken heart and hurt feelings. You could love again, and love someone else, other than Kahlan Amnell. But you never will if you do not let her go.” Nicci narrowed her eyes as she tightened her fingers, and for affect allowed just a caress of painful magic to move through her fingers and into his skin.

He groaned, and that turned into a sneer as he looked at her with rage in his eyes. “FINE! Just let me go.”

Her fingers released him immediately and she stepped back. “I am serious Richard. Try my patience again? You will be through. The world needs a Seeker, someone to guide us through the darkness that is about to descend on all of mankind. Either that man is you, or you are in the way. There is no middle ground in this.”

“Yes, fine. I understand.” He rubbed his throat. “We will all give the devotions to Lord Rahl.” He looked to the Wizard. “Zedd?”

“Oh, I have been doing that just now my boy”

“Well help me get Chase down? So we can convince him to do them as well.”

“Well, I can certainly help with that.”

“Nicci?” Richard asked.

“I will return here in one hour.”

“Where are you going?” Richard began to ask, and the look she gave him silenced his voice. His eyes looked away nervously.

She would do the devotions, but she would do them alone.

* * * * *

At Cara’s urging they had galloped back to the Palace. At first Kahlan had wanted to enjoy the warm midday sun, but as they had left the army camp and entered through the stone walls of the city proper Kahlan had felt the tension in the air, had seemed to sense the changed. Where she had before been on the receiving ends of the look of fear and respect from the citizens of Aydindril there was a staggering sense of disgust in the eyes that looked upon her. Not two moments into their casual canter through the city streets four black horses, being ridden by ever watchful Mord–Sith, appeared around her. Kahlan has looked to Cara, curious as to why they were suddenly there and why the Home Guard was absent, but the blonde’s eyes were focused on a large group of men who were making their way towards them. That was when Cara ordered the Mord–Sith, as well as Kahlan to ride hard and fast back to the Palace.

It seemed that with each day that passed things were getting worse.

In the courtyard of the Confessor’s Palace, Kahlan brought Nick to a halt, and looked behind her, seeing something she had never seen before. The Home Guards were closing the gates behind her. In affect locking out the citizens. In all her years Kahlan had never known the gates to be closed. In fact she did not even think those iron bars could move from the open position.

A warm hand rested on her naked thigh, and she looked down, to see Cara’s flushed and wind kissed face looking up at her. Softly, calmly, she smiled, and it was all Kahlan could do to not melt seeing that very special smile.

“The gates?” She asked, and took the hand that Cara was offering. With ease she dismounted Nick, her breath caught in her throat, as Cara leaned into her. Just the feeling of closeness, of leather on leather sent sparks of desire through the muscles of her body. Her limbs ached to be wrapped with Cara’s, her center trembled, needing her mates attention. The long, slow kisses they had shared the night before had been amazingly loving and rejuvenating. But they had stopped, not going further than those very passionate kisses. Kahlan’s body, so close and suddenly synchronized with Cara’s was literally vibrating with desire.

“For safety I have ordered all the entrances to the Confessor’s Palace be bared, and we will be having D’Haran guards standing by.”

“D’Harans?” Kahlan asked, raising her eyebrow in question, before her eyes went wide in surprise, as she felt Cara’s hand gripping her side, just below her breast. Teasingly Cara’s thumb moved over the side of it, and even through the thickness of leather she could feel the touch on her already sensitive skin. She whimpered Cara’s name softly.

“Mm.” The blonde absently licked her bottom lip.

“I miss you.”

“And I miss you.”

“Can…. Can we?” Kahlan whispered.

“Soon. But first.”

Kahlan groaned, and rolled her eyes, as Cara took a step away from her. “First? By the Spirits, Cara you are a tease!”

“Me?” Her hand went to her chest and she batted her long eyelashes.

“Yes. You.” Kahlan crossed her arms. “So, first. Is this when you tell me why we rushed through the city, why I am suddenly being guarded by Mord–Sith and D’Harans again, even though we agreed that D’Harans would not be the ones to oversee my safety, so I do not have to have Drefan at my side every moment?”

“I think that there are far more important things to be worried about than a few D’Harans sensing a strong bond to their Queen. Besides it is temporary.”

“Why?”

“Because you are going to have an elite guard around you at all times.”

“Oh? And who will this elite guard be comprised of? You removed the Home Guard of Aydindril; you say the D’Harans will be temporary. What is left but Mord–Sith?”

“A very elite group of men.” Cara took her arm, gently and they began climbing the massive front steps of the Palace. The eyes of the guards they passed were downcast, as they stepped through the massive doors and into the Palace. “Guards who will be trustworthy.”

“I find my current guards exceptionally trust worthy.”

“Hm. Well.” Cara mumbled. “That trust is misplaced. With the tensions moving through the city, with the very stark and clear reality of the situation at hand, there is but one choice left to you.”

The shock of what Cara was suggesting was evident on her face she knew it was. “You… you cannot be serious.”

“Oh, I am Kahlan.”

“But…. I couldn’t.”

“Do you want to die?” Cara asked sharply, as she opened the door to Kahlan’s private chambers off of the Council room.

“Of course not.”

“Then this is something you need to do. They will be the only ones you can trust, because they will be confessed to you.”

Standing in the room was Rikka, her face pensive. “But… Mord–Sith.” Kahlan stated.

“I will not risk it. I want you surrounded by warriors who will defend you and only you.”

“I have Orsk.”

“One man. No matter how big and menacing is still one man.”

“But to take their lives? What if they are fathers, sons, brothers?”

Cara sighed, crossing her arms, and looking intently at Kahlan. “I have asked for those who would be put to death any way. Not the weak ones who have wasted away in your dungeons. But strong, virile, evil men. To make this easier on you.”

“This is never easy.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that it would be.”

“I am stripping them of their free will. Cara… that kills me inside. To see soulless faces looking at me. I take their will when I confess them, and with the bond of Rahl I take it as well.”

“No. It isn’t the same.”

“It is.”

“No. We have free will.” Cara argued.

Kahlan felt her eyebrow rise in argument. She did not want to do this, but felt forced to prove her point. She looked at the brunette Mord–Sith who had remained silent all this time. “Rikka, kneel.”

Kahlan watched as her face went slack, and her eyes narrowed. Kahlan focused her will, her desire for Rikka to kneel, and while clenching her fists at her sides, the proud Mord–Sith had no choice. She kneeled.

“It is not the same.” Cara still argued.

“Cara.” Kahlan said coldly, and mentally commanded her to drop to her knees as well. With a grimace on her face and anger flashing in her eyes, Cara dropped to her knees before Kahlan as well. “You see? To do this to everyone I know and love?”

Kahlan shook her head, feeling the power of the bond, the power of Lord Rahl. And now Cara was suggesting that she strip the free will of men, just so they could protect her? It made her mind reel. Had she come so far from her old self, that Cara, the women who loved her and understood her, could ask her to do these things?

“Kahlan. Confessing them will not be done because you want to rule them, it will be done to protect yourself. You and what you stand for is too valuable to this world to merely ignore. Just because you are consumed with empathy, that does not mean you should sacrifice yourself.”

“My whole life has been a string of sacrifices, Cara. You should know that. And… no! I cannot be this! You are asking me to take another step on the path where I lose myself completely.” Kahlan wiped the tears from her eyes, and walked past the two kneeling women, she had more to say, but the worlds seemed to be caught behind the emotional lump in her throat.

Kahlan released the order in her mind, and she heard both Rikka and Cara gasp in relief as she matched out of the room.

“Kahlan.” Cara called after her, but she did not hesitate in her steps, instead she kept walking briskly away.

* * * * *

Cara’s hand slapped onto the stone floor as she leaned forward when the command from Kahlan was revoked. She called out to her, but the Mother Confessor did not stay.

“Well, that went about as well as one could have expected.”

“Oh do hush.” Cara grumbled to Rikka.

“She will understand soon enough, and do what you suggest.”

“I know. But she is right; it goes against everything that is her.” She shook her head as she rose to her feet. “Ever since she became Mord–Sith she has been changing, going against all that made her what she was. Against her character.”

“Did you expect her to remain, the kind and compassionate Mother Confessor, once the talons of Mord–Sith sunk into her soul? You may be impetuous, Cara, but you are not stupid.” Rikka said, still kneeling on the floor, but she had sat back on her heels.

“Perhaps I had been hopeful.” She said, her eyes focused on the open doorway. She had been hopeful, as she had been narrow minded. All that had been in her thoughts at the time had been to save her from being wed to Drefan, to ensure that she was not collared. Instead the Mother Confessor had become chained to an even harsher mistress. Mistress Kahlan.

“The Witch returned to the Keep today.”

“Did she?”

“Mm.” Rikka said. “And I asked her to join us here at the Palace; I offered her your terms, word for word.”

“Thank you.”

“She was not pleased.”

“I don’t care.”

“I also did as you asked.”

Cara looked over at Rikka. “Oh? What did you find?”

“Well, when I looked through the books she has been paying the most attention to, I admit I could not read them. I am not as intelligent as Berdine when it comes to things like that. But there seemed to be a theme, in those books I did understand.”

Cara crossed her arms, waiting.

“Oaths. Bonds. Yes there was a tome or two regarding the Barrier between the Old World and the New, but it seems the focus of her research was more focused on oaths and bonds.”

“Tomorrow will you show me?”

“Yes. But tomorrow?” Rikka looked at her confused.

“Kahlan will come around. She will know that what I am suggesting is… it is the only way.” Cara clenched her jaws. “I have the feeling that once she does this? The Confessor in her will be exhausted. And…in exhaustion will relent to her other half.” Cara knew her eyes went hard.

Rikka nodded. “I will prepare things for you.”

“Thank you.”

* * * * *

Cara watched closely from the shadows in the dining hall, as Kahlan sat down beside Drefan. She still wore her dark traveling leather dress, and it looked as though the shadows that had been in her eyes all day were stretching out further, covering her body.

It pained Cara to see her this way, but she knew, in the pit of her soul, she knew that it would not be for much longer. She would heal her mate, one way or another.

Her eyes moved over the empty tables and chairs, there were hardly any representatives from the other kingdoms here tonight, which Cara knew was uncommon. Now that the kingdoms had arrived in the city, and with the Spring Session of the Central Council slated to begin in a few short days, for them not to be here was an obvious slight against the Mother Confessor.

As insulting as it was, Cara was pleased. She did not want to even imagine the dangers that could lurk in a room full of Midlanders, all of whom could be agents of the Dream Walker.

The massive doors to the hall opened, and with the familiar sound of chainmail and hard leather boot soles, her eyes moved and watched as General Reibisch, Sergeant Wyborn, Captain Ryan, and Prince Harold all strode down the center of the room.

A faint smile prickled at the corner of Cara’s lips, and she stuck to the edges of the room and the shadows as she walked closer to Kahlan as she sat on the raised platform. The Mother Confessor looked up, first confusion on her face, and then a look of humility filled her eyes.

* * * * *

She was not in the mood to eat, nor was she in the mood to sit here pretending to be something she was not. Her nerves were frayed and Kahlan just had the feeling that if Drefan so much as hiccupped at her, she would slam his face into the hard oak wood of the table, not caring who may witness it. The servants placed the plate of food before her, but none of it looked appetizing. She would rather curl up in bed than eat.

She looked around the room and saw not one member of the Council in attendance. After the catcalls and the contempt she witness from the citizens of Aydindril as she had ridden through the city she really did not expect there to be a mass of sycophants sitting and hoping for an audience with the Mother Confessor.

And still it burned. It physically and emotionally hurt her. Cutting to the core. She was, for now, the last Mother Confessor, the last of her kind, and it seemed that through no fault of her own, the respect and power that came with that title was diminishing more and more each day. Even before the threat, real or imagined, of the Dream Walker, her people, those she sacrificed her life for, did not care enough for her to make a simple showing of respect. Kahlan Amnell was slowly and affectively destroying the role of the Mother Confessor.

She closed her eyes tightly, feeling the bile rising in her throat.

In the distance of the hall the doors creaked open. She heard sure foot falls, before she opened her eyes. Before she saw the four leaders of her armies as they walked toward her and Drefan.

All four men had a set look of determination on their faces, even Prince Harold, who earlier at the D’Haran camp had seemed annoyed at the prospect of following the ridged commands she laid out looked at her with respect.

These four men and their attendance here made her sigh, relieved in a sense, and comforted in another.

The back of her neck tingled, and she felt before she saw, as Cara slipped from the shadows beside her, and came forward. As she stood next to Kahlan’s chair, her gloveless hand brushed against her arm, and understanding, and thankful, Kahlan took her hand and squeezed.

“Mother Confessor.” Prince Harold addressed her, his head bowing slightly.

“Prince Harold.” She returned his nod.

“We request your permission to speak to you…and your husband, the Lord Rahl.” He said.

At the word husband, Kahlan tightened her fingers around Cara’s, and her eyes looked up at the sea green ones that met hers immediately. The smile Cara gave her, one of complete love and appreciation calmed the thunder in Kahlan’s heart.

“Request granted.” Kahlan said softly, before she moved her eyes away from her mate, and back to the men before her.

“We come to you, not as officers of your army, not as anything more than men coming before their sovereign.”

Kahlan swallowed deeply as she watched the four men moved to kneel, and lowered their heads to the granite floor.

“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

Cara’s hand slipped from her’s, and she watched with wide eyes as Cara moved to kneel beside her as well.

“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

Even Drefan’s voice joined the devotion chant, and it made Kahlan feel a small amount of her pride and self worth returning. She may be destroying the role of the Mother Confessor inadvertently, but at least she was leading the role of Lord Rahl into a more benevolent reign.

“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

* * * * *

She turned her head sharply to the side, as if hearing something in the distance. It as faint, almost as if she had heard her name whispered, and it had been caught on the wind, and was rolling across these hills of tall grasses to her.

Nicci moved her hands over the length of her black dress, feeling the course material, and it grounded her for a moment.

The idea of being beholden to any one thing displeased her. After a life that began with her vowing to uphold the law of the Order, to living for the word of the Creator, and then bowing to the whims of the Keeper, Nicci’s whole life had been spent in the service of another. It was always what someone else needed or wanted that Nicci lived to provide. Since meeting Richard, since she broke her vow to the Keeper she had slowly been learning how to live her life for herself. Learning what it may or may not be that she wanted, desired. It was a comfort to her, finding herself. And now, she was faced with going backwards, with having to give a vow to another, and in all likelihood once done, she was not sure if she would ever have the drive to return to just herself.

The touch of the wind felt like a push, like someone was trying to get inside of her mind again.

Six had said that there would be a way, that Nicci had a weakness. While she wondered what the worst could be, the idea of anyone, but especially an insane sorceress being the one to control her made this decision far easier than she would have imagined.

Facing to the north, Nicci dropped to her knees, and lowered her head to the earth. The smell of it, thick and rich with the promise of life filled her senses. She pressed her fingers deep into the soil, and her mind cleared, and her voice began to speak the words.

“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

Inside her mind, Nicci heard a low crackling, like laughter.

“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

The laughter was replaced by a short scream of her name, and then calm. A peace washed over her. Reminiscent of the first time she stood in the Palace of the Prophets, before the stained glass windows, as the noon sun burst through, creating a living breathing room of magnificent color.

“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

Calm and warmth seemed to fill her for a moment, and Nicci sat up, her face upturned to the sky as she realized there were tears on her face, and a light laughter broke from her lips.

* * * * *

She left the dining hall, and moved into the Council Chambers, feeling Cara behind her, keeping a slight distance, as if she knew that Kahlan had much on her mind. Which she did. Cara’s words echoed inside of her mind, slipping in and out around the sharp jabs of pain that the headache was causing. She moved through the shafts of moonlight that came from the high windows above, and with each step closer to the First Chair, beneath the watchful eye of Magda Searus Kahlan became more and more aware that Cara’s words were true. No matter how against her nature they were, no matter what her heart told her was wrong with those words, her mind knew. Her reason? It understood exactly what was at stake.

Doing this, accepting the guilt for her own actions and doing this may be the only thing that would keep her safe. And if she was not safe, if someone like the Wizard or the Queen was successful the next time? The line of the Confessors would assuredly end with her.

She turned and sat in the First Chair, looking out over the large oblong room, the thick shadows dancing with the bluish white caress of moonlight from above.

Perhaps knowing that she didn’t need to say anything, Cara merely kneeled before her, looking up at her with understanding. Cara’s hand rested on her knee, and for long moments, beats of their hearts they merely sat, in silence, looking into one another.

“I don’t want to do this.” Kahlan whispered.

“I know.”

“What if I cannot do it?”

“You can.”

“I have never done so many at once when not in the throes of the Con Dar.”

“If you would prefer I could see to it that you…”

“Don’t you dare, Cara. My nerves are frayed enough, to think of you being hurt? No. Please.” She took Cara’s hand in both of hers. “Please I can’t even think of that right now.”

“Alright.” Cara offered gently.

“I hate this. I hate the idea of this.”

“I know.”

“What if I falter? Or if I pass out?”

“Shota has agreed, albeit begrudgingly to stand by and help, incapacitate anyone that requires it. I am here, and will happily beat any or all of them unconscious for you. If you do pass out? I will always watch over you Kahlan.”

She smiled softly, for a moment enjoying the love she saw in those darkening blue green eyes. “I know you will.”

The air shimmered behind Cara slightly, but enough that Kahlan noticed. She also knew that when Shota was attempting to make herself invisible the slight ripple, like heat in the air, gave her away. It was how the witch woman managed to slip by her guards.

“I appreciate you help in this, Shota.” Kahlan said, and smirked as the witch woman appeared, and rolled her eyes.

“Yes well, Cara made it clear that I had little choice in the matter.”

“Cara?”

“She is exaggerating, as is her way.” Cara snapped playfully.

A loud commotion sounded in the distance, shouting, and the rattling of chains. The reality of the situation was blossoming around her, that she was actually considering this, made Kahlan’s skin crawl. She could not see the men yet, but could hear them, hear the vile words coming from their lips. It did not matter who they were or what they had done. In moments they would cease to be anything other than the tools by which Kahlan would be protected.

The pain in her head seemed to focus itself at the forefront and she moaned, setting her head in her hand.

“Kahlan?” Cara’s voice asked, concerned.

“I’ll… I will be alright.”

“I told you Cara. This is too much.” Shota snapped.

“And I told you that I was through listening to your advice in this matter.”

Kahlan pressed her eyes closed, willing the pain away, for a little while, just so she could do what must be done.

“I am fine.” Slowly she lifted her chin up, steeling her heart as well as her expression. “Bring me the first one.” She said in a frozen voice.

She watched as Orsk shoved the man to his knees before her. He tried to pull away from the massive D’Haran, but it was a useless gesture.

“You cannot do this!” He yelled at her, his hazel eyes flashing with anger and contempt.

“But I can.” Kahlan replied softly, as she stood. Her hand brushed genly against Cara’s cheek, and te Mord–Sith remained kneeling, as she passed.

“In the name of the Keeper I curse you.”

Kahlan smiled sadly. She already felt cursed.

As she walked to him, as she extended her hand towards his throat she was almost positive that she could hear the first Mother Confessor, Magda Searus renouncing her, accusing her of using her gift for selfish gains.

Was choosing life over death selfish, Kahlan wondered, as her fingers slipped around the man’s strong neck. She did not know the answer.

All she knew was the moment of silence, as the world around her froze, as there was nothing and no one but her and the man in her hand. Lowering her sacred walls, her power slammed into him, and the air around her moved, caching and lifting her hair in a vortex, as the power moved between them, his eyes turning black as his soul, his free will was sacrificed.

His hazel eyes cleared and shone brightly with love. “Command me Mistress.”

* * * * *

Rikka was shocked by what she was witnessing. She had never directly seen a confessor release their power into another. She had the misfortune of standing a little too close to Kahlan once when she released it, and had felt the air pulled from her lungs, and been knocked to the ground with the force of a gale wind. But to see Kahlan, who she respected, not merely as Lord Rahl, and as a Sister of the Agiel, but as a woman was shocking. The way her face became a mask of indifference, even as tears fell from her eyes, her strong hand wrapping around the throats of these men. The complete silence. They were dying in her hands, part of them was, and yet there was no scream. There was only their pleading when it was done, as they asked how they could please her.

Seeing the toll it was taking on Kahlan physically bothered Rikka. She knew then that she, like the others had been getting soft here in Aydindril. This should not affect her one way or another. That it did? Well she would need to work on toughening her skin.

“All is prepared.” She said as she came up beside Cara.

“Did you have any trouble?”

“No. They were just where you said they would be.”

“Good.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Questioning me?” Cara asked, only for a moment taking her eyes off of Kahlan, to glare at Rikka.

“Someone has to.”

Cara pursed her lips. “Please escort Shota from this chamber. I do not think her skills will be required.”

Rikka nodded, but then stopped, as Cara’s hand grabbed her arm. “Be nearby, but not too near.”

“I understand.” Rikka confirmed.

Shota was standing beside the large wooden chair, with its appointments of blue velvet, and the large seal of the Mother Confessor on the back of it. Her red hair was moving in a false breeze, one of the little quirks Rikka was now familiar with when it came to the Witch. Her arms where crossed, as if she were cold, even under her thick white fur mantle.

“Cara would like you to know that your presence is no longer required here.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“How do you feel watching this? Knowing your Lord Rahl is in pain?”

“I accept the pain she is in, and I strive to do what I can, when she commands it. The bond does not motivate us to make the Lord Rahl’s life easier, merely to follow orders.” Rikka whispered.

“Then why do I feel like this is not right? That I should be protecting her?”

“Ah.” Rikka nodded. “That has nothing to do with the bond and everything to do with who Kahlan Amnell is.”

* * * * *

The sound of stone running along the length of steel was somewhat comforting to her, as she sat her eyes unfocused as she looked into the fire. Her mind, for the first time in a long time was quiet, at peace. In devoting herself to the Lord Rahl she had actually been given herself back. She was not sure if this feeling of self would last though.

“Wizard?”

“I wish you would call me Zedd.”

“Perhaps in time.”

He sighed. “What is it, Nicci?”

“This bond, to Lord Rahl. I understand it, but am not familiar with it in practice. Can the Lord Rahl control me with it?”

“Yes and no. You are protected, just barely now, by the devotion and the bond to Lord Rahl, but because you are not of D’Haran blood? He cannot truly command you. “

“It is through the bond that he can control the Mord–Sith.”

“Yes, the bond as well as being broken. The most elite of the Mord–Sith were doubly broken by Lord Rahl’s own hand, ensuring that they obeyed each and every one of his commands.”

“I see… well, if Kahlan is the Lord Rahl, I doubt she has broken any Mord–Sith.” Nicci said, her eyes going back to the flames.

* * * * *

Kahlan dropped to her knees, beside the sixth man, who bowed his head to her. Cara slowly came closer, and just as she was about to set her hand on Kahlan’s shoulder she looked up at her. Her cheeks were streaked with the faded and fresh tracks of her tears, her blue eyes were brilliantly bright amid a sea of blood shot white, and her skin was so pale that the freckles that adorned the bridge of her nose stood out even more.

“Are you happy now?” Kahlan groaned.

“I am never happy when you are in pain.” Cara said honestly, softly.

She squatted beside Kahlan, and as much as she wanted to embrace her, to hold her close against her chest and sooth her, she knew that something more was required. Cara had watched the tortuous events, as Kahlan confessed the six men, each one taking the light from her eyes, each one making her lips pull into a tight white line.

Cara’s hand deftly moved, and gripped the Agiel on Kahlan’s thigh, which she pulled free, regardless of the sting of pain that licked at her skin.

Kahlan’s eyes widened, watching as Cara set the weapon on her arm, and she grimaced.

“Take it Kahlan. Take the Agiel and come with me.”

The brunette nodded, and where a moment ago her limbs hung with exhaustion, her eyes seemed drained, an insurgence of strength seemed to fill her. She took the Agiel roughly, and with it in her hand, she pressed it to Cara’s neck.

The pain spread and grew, thrilling her muscles and causing her to tremble. Kahlan stood, and with the Agiel urged Cara to do so as well.

“You will all stay here, silently.” Kahlan ordered the men.

“Yes Mistress.” They answered in unison.

Cara was about to protest, that these men were now the ones who should be surrounding Kahlan at all times, but the pain intensified, and she panted heavily.

“Don’t speak, Cara.” Kahlan growled in warning.

She blinked her eyes, in acceptance. Cara knew, with the Confessor’s power now at its weakest it had been in a very long time, that the Mord–Sith inside Kahlan would slip to the fore, would demand blood and pain.

Cara would feed Mistress Kahlan. She would burn and bleed and break for her, to exhaust that part of her as well.

Part 14

Kahlan pulled the length of the whip through her gloved fist, relishing the pull of each braded line across her palm. Her eyes were closed, her mind swimming, lost in the lust.

The smell of sweat, blood and excitement filled the small tower room. The room in which she had died; the room where Kahlan had been reborn as Mistress Kahlan. The room where she had been whittling away hours with Drefan hanging from those chains. But now? Now Drefan sat cowering in the corner, having been ordered by her to kneel and place his forehead to the wall. No, this time, the blood scent in the air was sweeter, consuming her senses.

Kahlan cracked the whip against the floor, watching as the skin across Cara’s back twitched and danced, as if the leather had caressed it. That was the power of sound. Without the searing touch of the whip still her skin reacted.

She delayed her intent, and in doing so increased the tension in the room. Waiting for the blows to fall brought more reaction, more pain, than the actual strike.

In punishing Drefan Kahlan would feel the pain herself, burning under her skin, and with each blow she felt filthy. She would be consumed with the bile of self hate. Pulling back her arm, and allowing the tip of the leather whip to caress Cara’s inner thighs, watching her exquisite mouth twitch, seeing how her nostrils flared with the touch Kahlan could feel the splendor. In lashing out at her mate, she was rewarded with beauty, the strength and determination of life. These moments were love, and to be appreciated. Kahlan felt that inside of her soul. Regardless of how much hate the Mord–Sith inside of her felt, each movement, each action was surrounded in love.

With each caress of the whip she also felt that it was not enough, that Cara, her silence thick, her eyes when open staring out the window filled with tedium was an insult. As if Kahlan’s actions were not truly reaching Cara. That the blonde was merely going through the motions. Perhaps she was reacting that way on purpose, perhaps she knew if would increase Kahlan’s frenzy, her desire.

Ultimately her love.

Kahlan swung the whip again, and Cara groaned as it met the back of her thighs. The whip was not enough. It did not convey her hate enough. It create welts, and broke skin, but it was not satisfying. Kahlan wrapped the wet leather around her own neck, and pulled the Agiel from its home on her thigh. Even through the leather of her glove she could feel the burn of it. The pain throbbed through her muscles, and it’s soft scream echoed in the small stone room. She had missed this sensation. Self inflicted pain at holding the weapon, knowing that with the ease of a thought she could do so much. So much more than a simple whip. It was the device that focused her intent and her own pain. Pain that she would deliver to Cara.

Not to hurt her and make her suffer, but to see her eyes widen in shock. To hear her voice cry out. To feed the Mord–Sith’s insatiable need for hate and pain.

Kahlan closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the complexity of the air, her ears only conscious of the way Cara was breathing.

Behind her closed eyes she could see Cara smiling at her, with the special shared smile. She could see as her mate mouthed the words, saying that she loved her.

The mixture of emotions, the love and the hate, made Kahlan’s mind swim. Was this why she had not wanted to do this with Cara? Was the simple truth that she could not contain all of the love and all of the hate at the same time?

As her eyes opened, and Kahlan pulled her arm back she screamed. A scream full of hate. The Mother Confessor in her battled against the Mord–Sith and her hands slammed into her head the pain blinding her. She felt like she was breaking in half.

Kahlan staggered.

“Kahlan.”

The pain in her head was more intense than it had ever been.

“KAHLAN!” Cara screamed her name this time, and she opened her eyes, looking at Cara’s concern, the way her brow furrowed. “Stop fighting it. The Confessor in you is exhausted. Let her sleep. Let the love you feel for me melt away. Think about the hate, embrace the hate.”

“I love you.” Kahlan sobbed. “How can it melt away?”

“Who did this to you?” Cara snapped. “Who gave you this pain? Who made you conflicted? Who do you hate for this?”

“No.”

“Inside of you there is a war being waged. Between love and hate. You were never meant to be both, you are now? You are dying because the two halves of yourself cannot coexist equally.”

“No.”

“I am killing you.”

“No!”

“Who is to blame? Whose fault is all of this pain and torment?”

“YOU! It is YOUR FAULT!” Kahlan yelled, her eyes opening, and her fingers tightening around the handle of the Agiel.

“Then punish me!”

Kahlan screamed again, this time in rage, as she rushed forward, and slammed the Agiel into Cara’s stomach. The blonde’s scream harmonized with her own, and inside Kahlan felt the Mother Confessor shudder and sob, and then slip away.

* * * * *

The bolt of lightning, ten times stronger than Wizard’s fire, leapt from Richard’s palm and into the thick of the Sisters of the Dark who had attempted to ambush them in the middle of the night.

Nicci had been sleeping further away from the camp and closer to the edge of the Kern River when the attack came, and had miraculously managed to roll out of the way of a dacra, just as it buried itself into the ground. Her eyes flashed with the power she held and she had been about to release a thick bolt of magic, when amazingly Richard had done just that, and obliterated three of the Sisters in the process.

Nicci’s eyes searched the dark, and with the aid of her magic the night became day in her vision, and she saw that the Wizard was down on the ground, but was essentially unharmed. Richard stood over him and seemed to be acting on pure instinct as he let unleashed another volley of magic, this time it was the hard compress of air that sent Sisters into trees, their spines snapping with the impact. The look of determined rage on Richard’s face thrilled Nicci’s heart; and in that moment she knew what her weakness was.

She sprung to her feet and rushed towards the one remaining Sister, and using a thrust of magic, knocked the dacra from her hand before she could throw it at Richard. As Nicci reached her she pulled back her fist, and with the addition of magic she landed a punch to her jaw, shattering it and causing the Sister of the Dark to fall to the ground. With one word Nicci threw a web around the Sister, nullifying her magic. With a growl of desperate rage the Sister of the Dark turned and looked up at Nicci.

“Why Sister Christabel, I have not seen you for quite some time.”

“Sister Nicci.”

“Oh, it is just Nicci now.” She said glaring down at her.

Richard slowly walked over. “Why did you attack us?”

Sister Christabel laughed. “Why wouldn’t we attack you, Seeker? You may have thwarted our Master once, but that does not mean you won. No. We will kill you and once in the Underworld you will suffer at the hands of our Master.”

“I think you are not telling the whole truth.” Nicci said, and watched with a smile as Sister Christabel’s eyes widened.

“What do you know of truth? You are like water, moving back and forth from one master to another, based on the tide of your moods. You now travel with the Seeker? You turn your back on your Master?”

“The Keeper did not live up to his end of the bargain.” Nicci said off handedly. “I think you were sent here by Six.”

Sister Christabel’s face went even paler than it had been at the mention of the sorceress’s name. “I… what…”

“You have much to explain. And I am sure that the Seeker would be very interested in what you have to say?”

“Oh. I am.” Richard replied, crossing his arms. “Who sent you?”

“The Keeper.”

Absently Nicci kicked her. Sister Christabel glared up at her, and for her silence received another kick, this one to the side of her face.

“NICCI!”

She ignored Richard, and sent a small stream of magic into her, wrapping it around her forearm and pulling until she heard the snap. To her credit, Sister Christabel only moaned. “Who sent you?” Nicci repeated.

“She did.” The Sister confessed.

“Why?” Nicci asked.

“To kill you and to kill the Seeker.”

“How is she controlling you?” Richard asked looking at the Sister of the Dark with darkness of his own in his eyes.

“As she always has, the ancient ways, of drawing.”

“Artistry.” The Wizard mumbled as he came to stand with them, brushing off the leaves from his robes.

“Yes.”

“Did you know she was able to wield that power, Nicci?” Richard asked.

“The rumors stated she could. It would explain how she is controlling the Dream Walker.”

“Indeed.” The Wizard agreed.

“What is artistry?” Richard asked.

“First things first.” Nicci said, pulling her own dacra from the inside of her sleeve and slammed it into Sister Christabel’s chest. The bright green light, the pulse of her Han flickered and then Nicci ordered the magic into herself. In a crash of air around her, the bright green light glowed, swirled around her arm and then merged inside of Nicci’s body, mingling and then becoming one with her own Han.

“Was that necessary?” Richard asked.

“Very. Why let her magic go to waste.” Nicci replied, pulling the dacra from the now dead body. With a flick of her eye to Sister Christabel her flesh was rendered to ash.

“Dear Spirits!” Zedd gasped.

“You could do the same, Wizard. If you practiced. No need to bother with building pyres and setting fire to them.”

“You just.” Richard stammered.

“Yes. I just.” Nicci crossed her arms and looked to the two men. “Six is controlling the Sisters of the Dark and the Dream Walker, and if she is doing this using artistry… well it is an ancient magic.”

“Then we have a very good chance at reversing those spells.” The Wizard interrupted.

“Someone is going to explain to me exactly what it is you are talking about?” Richard asked, looking from Nicci and then to the Wizard.

“Of course.” The Wizard turned to make his way back to the campsite, and Nicci shrugged. She would allow the Wizard to tell Richard if he so chose. She would correct him when needed.

A warm and strong hand set on her arm, and she froze, looking up at Richard. “Are you alright?” He asked, his voice actually sounding sincere.

“I… yes. Yes I am fine.”

“Good.” He smiled gently, and then his hand moved off of her, but slowly. That did not go unnoticed by Nicci.

Richard moved around the fallen bodies of the Sisters he had killed, all that was left of them were a few pieces of ghastly red material, and a fragment of bone. His magic had eradicated them. Once more Nicci felt her appreciative eye move over Richard, and she saw him in a different light.

The Wizard sat heavily on the log before their fire. A strange calm fell over the campsite. Nicci felt nothing and no one near them for leagues.

“Very few people have the aspect of the gift needed to be an artist.” The Wizard began, pulling some dried sausage and cheese from his pack. Apparently sleeping through an attack by the Sisters of the Dark had stirred his appetite.

“Just like actual painters.”

“Correct my boy.”

“Is this the same magic that James, the painter who was able to create worlds, and place people and things inside of those worlds, had?” Richard asked.

“Similar but different. He could paint you, and you would leave this world and enter the painting.”

“I remember.” Richard grumbled, and took the sausage offered to him by his grandfather, and in turn he held it out to Nicci. She declined, shaking her head.

“That is one form of magic. But those who use the magic of artistry do not create a world and transport one there. No. They create a likeness of a person, or place, and around that likeness they then add spells. Spells that do not need words, spells so very powerful, conveyed using only images. This magic has been used since before the time of written language. It is that old.” The Wizard paused to chew for a moment. “You see, my boy, the drawings made are an actual casting of a spell, and as such the spells must be drawn precisely, with the victim or target, as well as each aspect and symbol working together to produce the desired effects.”

“That sounds dangerous. Can anyone anywhere learn this? Could a hapless child for instance be sitting at the family table and draw such a spell on parchment?”

“No, thankfully. There have been rumors that some families in the Midlands have this talent. But not much has ever come about in the way of proof. Apparently there is a place, a series of caves, north of here actually, where it has been said that in the old days artists drew their spells.”

“And this is a place of power.”

“Yes. It’s called the Sacred Caves, if I am not mistaken.”

“Then could this be where the sorceress is? At these Sacred Caves?” Richard asked, his eyes looking to Nicci for a response.

“In the deep south of the Old World where Six lived, when I heard of her, and was where I met with her once before, she living in caves. Her caves were a vast system, and the rumors were that they went deep into the earth deeper than any caves in all of the Old World, reaching below the oceans and all the way to the Underworld.”

“Unlikely.” The Wizard chuckled.

“Exactly. That was all fables I am sure. But the caves did have a sense of magic to them. And the walls were covered in crude renderings, drawings.”

“Then perhaps this Six, she is still deep in the Old World?”

Nicci shook her head. “No Richard, she is close. Which means her power is very formidable.”

“So she could be sitting anywhere, and drawing these spells out on parchment.”

“As terrifying as that notion is? I do not think that is the case. If it was that simple? You would be dead, I would be under her control, and she would have taken over the Midlands in a blink of an eye.” Nicci said.

“I agree. What would make more sense is that as she has traveled she has come across caves with the proper magic, and that combined with her own skill as an artist? She has been able to craft spells. Which, dare I say is lucky for us!”

“Lucky how?” Richard asked.

The Wizard grinned. “Because my dear boy, if her spells are on the walls of caves, others with the proper magics can find them, and alter the images and thus the spells.”

“One could do that? Just… alter a spell?”

“Of course. Add an attribute to the victim that they do not possess? And suddenly the spell is broken. Turn the details of the spell into something else entirely? And it changes the entire spell. Just as effective as dropping one tiny grain of black sorcerer’s sand onto a spell cast in an acre of white sand. The smallest details sometimes make the biggest difference.”

* * * * *

The chains sung with a mournful tone as Cara’s body swung from them. The length of the leather whip lay coiled on the floor, and she just watched as Cara tried to pull in air, her lips parted.

“When you scream it makes my heart break.” Kahlan said softly, as she stepped closer to Cara as she swung on the chains. “Your muscles, your skin. It all calls to me, and…”

“Kahlan.” Cara moaned her name.

“Cara.” Kahlan said softly, as her fingers slipped the Agiel into its holster. She stepped closer to Cara, her eyes moving over her sweat slicked skin that glistened in the light from the multitude of candles, which gave her the rich amber glow that perfectly complemented her bronze flesh. Her head was hanging down, and Kahlan reached for her, her hands lifting her chin. She smiled as those deep blue green eyes focused through the pain, on her. “Oh my love.” She said delicately in response to the look she was given by Cara. Gently she held her face with one hand and with the other moved her gloved fingers across her brow, smoothing the furrow there.

Slowly Cara closed her eyes, and her whole body seemed to relax into Kahlan’s touch. Gazing at the beautiful expression of resignation, of submission on Cara’s face, the way she just relented and gave in, made the love Kahlan felt for her swell in her chest. While she craved the issuing of pain, of hearing the song in screams, this moment, seeing and feeling Cara in this way was a gift. Cara gave herself willing to each and every whim that Kahlan may have. The abuse from the Agiel, the crack of the whip, all of it led Cara to this moment, the moment where, in the tenderness of a loving touch, Cara broke for her.

“You break for me, each and every time… and I die a little inside. Because I hate doing it, and I love doing it.” Kahlan whispered to her, and slowly Cara’s lids lifted, her eyes thick with moving color, and the tears that began slipping down her cheeks. “Cara, I love you. Everything that you are, everything that is.”

* * * * *

She whimpered her name over and over again. The word, the vow, the all consuming prayer. As she broke all that she knew was her love for Kahlan. That she would die at this very moment if it would protect her, if it would heal Kahlan. Cara would forfeit everything she had.

“Kahlan.” The name, whispered in love, cut her to shreds like the sharpest shard of ice.

* * * * *

“Why, Prince Harold, you continue to get more handsome with each turning of the seasons.” Shota’s voice, while spoken in a private tone, was caught and echoed off of the many arches above their heads in the receiving hall.

“While you remain ever as you are. Unaltered, undiluted, and stunning.” he smiled, bowing his head to kiss her knuckles.

Rikka, standing where she was, narrowed her eyes seeing that.

“You continue to try and impress me with your charm, when you know it will do you no good.”

“Ah, even a witch woman gets cold on winter nights.”

“Yes, and then she lights a fire in her hearth and sits in her favorite chair made of the bones of all those lovers who disappointed her.” Shota’s tone flashed with a flirtatious hunger.

“I recall that chair.” Prince Harold smirked. “Among other things.”

“Stop.” She smiled. “This is neither the time nor the place.”

“I suppose you are right.” He smiled at her. “Care to join me for a late meal at the Galean Palace?” He extended his arm to her, and she took it with a smile.

“I see no reason why not.”

Rikka crossed her arms, watching as the two of them walked through the large receiving hall together. Prince Harold was devoted to Lord Rahl, but that was nowhere near the same as being confessed. Her eyes narrowed in concentration. The shifty nature of the Witch just reinforced her extreme dislike for her. She knew she should inform Cara.

Rikka lifted her eyes up, to the massive archways on the ceiling of the Confessor’s Palace, held up by the thick marble pillars.

It would have to wait. Cara was otherwise occupied.

* * * * *

Laughter filled the chamber, bouncing off of the light colored stones that made up the walls, and it took her a moment of blinking blood from her eyes and seeing the shocked face in front of her to realize that it was in fact her own voice laughing.

Triana stood before her, the Agiel in her hand held up, but seemingly frozen, her eyes round with shock.

Berdine was not sure for how long she had been hanging from the chains, not that it mattered. She had endured worse than this without breaking. And try as Triana might she would not break her, not while Berdine was efficiently quartering her mind. Let them abuse her body, she was elsewhere, she was in her memories. She was surrounded and comforted by moments long since experienced, moments with Raina.

“You are insane.” Triana said shocked. Berdine wondered what she had in fact said to get such a response from the Mord–Sith.

“Perhaps.” Berdine said still laughing.

“I swear if I had my way I would have killed you long before now.”

“Why don’t you stop talking and start doing? You never were very good at this.” The Agiel pressed against her side, aggravating her already broken ribs. “Oh! That tickles.”

“DAMNIT!” Triana back handed her, and she was wearing her armored gloves, and the metal split open Berdine’s lip as well as broke her nose. “You WILL break!” Triana screamed into her face.

Berdine merely laughed in reply.

* * * * *

As Cara’s head rolled back from the slap, her lips pulled back into a deep and honest smile. Which was so very unexpected that Kahlan’s arm stopped mid swing and she just looked, her mind suddenly frozen on that very smile.

The rage slipped out of her, like the sweat rolling from her brow.

Somehow, some way , Cara always managed to bring Kahlan back, bring her through the deepest dark, into the light. Through the pain and the hate, into the brilliant glow and warmth of love and joy.

Her fingers released the Agiel, and it hung from the gold chain around her wrist. Kahlan quickly walked to the wall, and using the small wheel there, added more slack to the chain, and began lowering Cara. Once her feet were touching the blood splattered floor, Kahlan returned and silently unlatched the shackles around Cara’s bruised and bleeding wrists.

* * * * *

With the iron shackles off of her wrists she dropped to her knees, breathing heavily, as deeply as she could with her cracked ribs.

Drefan giggled manically in the corner, even though he was turned away from them, she was sure he knew the sound of the chains groaning once their burden was released.

“Cara.” Kahlan said softly, her hands cupping her cheeks and lifting her face up.

She searched Kahlan’s eyes, the Blood Lust had passed, she had come through to the other side, and looked drained and exhausted, as if she had not slept for weeks. Kahlan brushed their lips together, and Cara immediately deepened the kiss, fervently tasting and taking Kahlan’s mouth, her tongue delving in deep. Kahlan’s moan was a symphony to her ears, and as Cara pulled their mouths apart, her eyes opened, and she took in Kahlan’s expression of want, as well as the weakness and exhaustion that radiated from the brunette.

Which was exactly what Cara had counted on.

She pulled her head back before slamming it forward, striking their heads together, and knocking Kahlan off balance and onto the ground.

Her hand went to her forehead, as Kahlan looked at her, shocked.

Cara rose to her full height, no longer feeling the pain of torn muscles, cracked skin and abused muscles. Her intent fueled her and gave her strength.

“It’s my turn.” She said dangerously. Cara’s own desire increased as she watched Kahlan’s body tremble at her mere words. She reached down and grabbed Kahlan’s right wrist and pulled painfully, before slapping the iron shackle around her it.

Kahlan did not protest as the same was done with the left.

Cara went to the wheel on the wall and turned it, hearing the clicking of the automatic lock as each link passed through, as she continued to turn the wheel and the chain lifted her feet from the ground. Kahlan swung back and forth, the expression on her face angry and a little scared.

“Put her down!” Drefan ordered. Cara looked over her shoulder at him, seeing that he was now standing, and was about to move closer to her.

“You have no say in this.” She said evenly.

“You lying–“ He never managed to say more. When his mouth formed the letter L, Cara added all of her strength into her fist and struck the bottom of his jaw, forcing teeth up through his tongue.

His hands went to his mouth, which opened to a torrent of blood, and the tip of his tongue feel to the floor.

“Sit and be quiet.” She snapped, before turning back to Kahlan.

* * * * *

“The Confessor in you is being held down, by the Mord–Sith. The Mord–Sith who is exhausted now…”

Cara’s voice trailed off and became quiet. “Yes.” Kahlan answered, feeling the excitement and the terror at being chainlike this. Of her shoulders protesting at the angle they were over her head, how her wrists burned against the sharp iron. Cara moved around her, and when she came back to the front, her eyes looked up, framed by her matted blonde hair, her eyes were hard, and in control. Cara was moving and speaking as though this were any other moment where she was in control. As if all of the bruising and blood on her naked flesh was not her own.

“Now is the time to strike out at her. To take back control.”

“Cara?”

Kahlan watched as she turned and walked to the large window. The cuts on her naked back were still bleeding as she stood, looking out into the darkness of the night. Her voice, when she spoke, was low, calm, very controlled.

“I let my passion rule me, Kahlan. It overshadowed my reason. All I knew and all I saw was you in danger, the threat and I reacted. I did not think it through. I clawed and battled and bent reality to my will, all to save you from marrying that man, from allowing someone as heinous as Drefan rule D’Hara and rule you.” Even though her skin was broken and bruised, even with blood dried on her skin, and her hair hanging limply she seemed beautiful, poised and powerful. Slowly, methodically she turned around, her eyes red and brilliantly shining with conviction. “I put you in harm’s way. I made you the one thing you never should have become. And while I know, I KNOW, Kahlan, that inside of you there has always been the lust and the rage… the Mord–Sith that rose in you? She will kill you. She will kill the goodness in you. She will kill the compassion and the empathy.” Cara blinked slowly. “That will not come to pass. I swore you would never be collared, and then I was the one to slap the bonds and chains of hate around your wrists and throat. Well… tonight? I am removing them.”

“Cara?”

She shook her head. “No. Do not say my name like that. Not here. Not now. My mind is made up.”

* * * * *

She stood, her hands on her bare hips, looking up at Kahlan’s body, at the way the red leather covered her, pulled tight across her breasts, flattened her stomach underneath the additional thick leather of the corset. It was strange, for a moment, to be standing here, the one in control, and yet bleeding and completely naked. As if the leather armor was entrapping Kahlan, not protecting her, that the Mord–Sith had her chained and controlled. And that was the truth. The truth that Cara felt in her soul.

In herself she could feel the calm confidence of the Mord–Sith. She knew the power and the control. And it had only been very recently at Kahlan’s hand that she had learned the submissive side of her nature.

While Cara tried to assist Kahlan in finding the balance between love and hate, she was destined to fail. In the Mother Confessor as she was there would not be a way to balance the two. Because the Mord–Sith fed and thrived on the love and compassion inside of her. The more compassionate the child, the more empathy she had then the better the Mord–Sith she became. Cara had made a horrendous error in working to evolve and break Kahlan, making her into a Mord–Sith. If she had been any other woman, any other Confessor even, then the balance of power, the personality of the Confessor and the Mord–Sith would have thrived side by side in harmony. But Kahlan Amnell was no ordinary Confessor, she was no ordinary woman. Her life was lived for the freedom of others; she put herself at risk to ensure others could thrive. She loved completely and unconditionally. Those people of Aydindril who threw stones at her, who cursed her existence under their breaths, to Kahlan were the sun and the stars and she sacrificed her own happiness for them. No, Kahlan Amnell was no ordinary woman, and as such when she was broken, when she passed through the three stages of evolution to become Mord–Sith the power and the majesty of the hate and the desire for pain consumed all of the compassion and love. That was the source of the headaches, that was the reason for her need to inflict pain on Drefan and herself, that was the reasons she cried in the night, plagued by the terror of dreams. Because she was the gentlest and kindest woman Cara had ever known.

As far as Cara knew one could not reverse becoming Mord–Sith. But in time one could learn to uncover the parts of their heart and soul that had been sectioned off during the breakings. Just as Cara had learned to love, respect, care for Kahlan and others, as the thousand feet of stone around her heart had begun to crumble she hoped that with what she was about to unleash in the room, the same could be done for Kahlan. As a way not to undo her becoming, but instead to put the hunger of the Mord–Sith in its place, behind that of the Mother Confessor.

Cara stepped closer to Kahlan, but was careful not to touch her, as the Blood Lust in her eyes flashed between pure red to black. Her power was jumping from Blood Rage to Blood Lust. A dangerous combination. Cara was not afraid of the touch of the Confessor; she knew that no matter what Kahlan could not confess her. No, her hesitation at touching Kahlan was more to do with keeping both the Blood Rage and the Blood Lust battling inside of Kahlan. Trying to retain a certain balance. Her eyes moved over her mate’s tight face, knowing that beneath the hateful sneer was a face that shone brightly with unconditional acceptance and love. Love that Cara wanted to profess to her suddenly. She wanted to touch her, to feel that tactile connection, she felt it powerfully, a nagging in her mind telling her that what if something went wrong, what if this moment would be the last time she would ever have the chance to touch her.

Shaking her head, and forcing those thoughts away, she turned and walked to the corner, where a blood red pile of silk lay. It was merely a covering. Surprisingly through the night neither Kahlan nor her curiosity seemed drawn to the material, and to what lay underneath.

“Cara what are you doing?” Kahlan asked as Cara pulled the silk off of the two large objects.

“I do not know if this will work.” She said, unlocking the iron and bronze covers and exposing the dark black quillion crystal. It seemed to sense Kahlan, sense her magic, and it began to hum and vibrate in Cara’s hand.

“Don’t touch it Cara!” Kahlan pulled against the chains.

“Why?”

“A quillion will take any magic into it. You have magic.”

Cara laughed. “Oh, I am not worried about that.”

“Please… what are you?” Kahlan asked.

Cara walked to the other quillion and as with the first she unlocked the iron and bronze case.

“What are you doing Cara?”

“You may die.” Cara said softly, looking deeply into the ever shifting colors of Kahlan’s eyes. It was a very real fear. One or both of them could die.

“Then you will bring me back.” Kahlan said matter–of–factly.

Slowly she felt her lips pull into a smile. “Always.” She lifted a large crystal in each of her hands, and felt the power licking at her skin, burning her, pulling at her. “Kahlan, I love you.” She said sincerely, and watched as the thick blue tendrils of magic leapt from the blackness of the crystals, and tried to reach out for Kahlan. With a low rumbling growl, Cara lifted her arms and threw the crystals to the floor, where they both landed below Kahlan’s feet, shattering and the room seemed to explode with a scalding white blue light.

* * * * *

“Are they still inside?” Rikka asked as she came around the corner, and saw Hally and Captain Ryan standing, looking forlorn at the closed door.

Hally merely nodded.

Rikka sighed and turned around, and just let herself fall back against the wall. Her gloved hand went over her face. “None of this is normal. Whatever it is Cara has planned.”

“Is anything ever normal? Each of us was different, broke differently. We are different.”

“I know that. I know we each have specific talents. But… The Mother Confessors’ headaches have been getting worse. I left a tincture in her room day before last. Enough to last anyone else a week at least. It is empty now. Her headaches are not just because of the pressure of the lust, and the pain. No. It is something more.”

“Cara knows.” Hally offered.

“Knows?”

“She knows it is more. She has been beside her self, trying to get answers. Berdine suggested she talk to the Wizard, Zedd.”

“That old fool is gone.”

“Cara has been spending all of her free time at the Wizards’ keep. In the libraries, looking, searching. I have never seen her so determined.”

“Determined is all well and good, but she should know better than any of us, that messing around with magic is not safe. There is a very real possibly that whatever is happening in that room? Could kill one or both of them!” Rikka snapped.

“You can’t expect her not to at least try.”

“I suppose not.” Rikka sighed, looking at the door suspiciously. It was too quiet. “Did you hear about the fire?”

“Which one?” Hally asked.

“There was more than one?”

“The city seems to be falling apart at the seams.” Captain Ryan offered. “Two fires reported tonight alone. Yesterday there were four.”

“As though Aydindril, just like the Mother Confessor contains too much. It needs some sort of release.”

A scream filled the corridor, blood curdling, and a flash of light blinded them all, coming from the cracks around the door. A pulse of magic washed over Rikka, making her dizzy. She blinked and then exchanges a quick glance with both Captain Ryan and Hally before she grabbed a hold of the door and pulled. Nothing.

Hally threw herself against the door, and it shuddered but did not open. Rikka slammed her shoulder into it, with the same lack of results.

“Bradley! Kick this damn door down, but then stay out of the way.” Hally ordered.

Without thought he kicked the door, and then motioned for the two Mord–Sith to do the same with him.

Another scream broke from inside of the room, but the door did not open. The three of them in desperation tried again, with the same result.

And then Rikka felt a strange impact of air on her skin, and the door slowly opened, and Cara’s blood streaked face peered out at them.

* * * * *

Once the door was open, Cara sagged against it, the pain and exhaustion consuming her, blurring her eyes.

“Cara?”

“I… I need help.” She whispered to Hally as she closed her eyes.

“What did you do?” Captain Ryan’s voice snapped, and Cara felt his hands roughly gripping her shoulders.

“Stop it.” Hally growled at him.

“Stop it? The Mother Confessor is chained to the ceiling!”

“Just because you do not understand something, do not allow your ignorance to be replaced by hate.”

Slowly Cara opened her eyes, looking at the petite Mord–Sith who had spoken sternly to Captain Ryan. She gave Hally a look of appreciation.

“I… can you take her down? Take her to our bed camber.” Her eyes moved to Kahlan, who was unconscious, her head hanging in such a way that her hair covered her face.

Cara was not sure if it had worked; once the crystals shattered she had been knocked against the stone wall, and felt intense pain, as if her skin had been set on fire. Kahlan’s head had snapped back, her screams lifting up to the skies, as the blue energy from the quillions had surrounded her body and then slammed into her chest. The second scream had been worse than the first, but in its wake, Kahlan had passed out.

“Of course Mistress Cara.” Hally replied. “And what of Drefan?”

She looked to him, as he sat in the corner, his eyes wide and brimming with tears, blood still rolling from his mouth.

“Heal him I suppose, and then lock him up in his room.” Cara commanded, noticing there was little to no emotion in her voice. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically spent.

* * * * *

Somehow she found the strength to strip Kahlan of her Mord–Sith leather, and lift and place her in the bed. With her still unconscious, and therefore the results of the breaking of the quillions unknown, Cara stood before the washbasin in the corner of their room, and slowly ran a wet cloth over her body, working slowly, removing the blood and sweat from her own skin. Not knowing was gnawing at her mind, and she would cast glances to the still body of her mate on the bed. At least Kahlan was alive, she kept telling herself. At the very least she had not killed her by making what could be a totally ignorant decision.

She merely clutched to the new tendril of emotion in her heart.

Cara clung desperately to hope.

* * * * *

Her eyes were closed, but her mind was very open, listening to the sound of Cara’s even breathing. It was very rare that she was awake when Cara sleeping and she relished the moment.

Outside the slightly open glass doors, the air was different, charged.

The night was filling with the rapid explosions of dry lightening.

A crack sounded in the sky, followed quickly by the bright blue white light that filled the room. By the second strike, Kahlan’s eyes opened, and she looked to her side, where Cara was laying at peace, her eyes open and watching Kahlan intently. Nature had stolen from her the moment of calm, of watching Cara sleep. But in exchange it provided her the magic of seeing her lover’s face highlighted in otherworldly sky blue hues as another strike of lightening lit the sky.

“Are you?” Cara asked.

“I am fine.” Kahlan replied honestly.

“How do you feel?”

Kahlan closed her eyes for a moment. How did she feel? She felt at peace, in love. Surrounded and consumed by love and understanding. She felt…right.

“I love you, Cara.” She said, her eyes opening slowly. Leaning closer, Kahlan kissed her, brushing their lips together gently, before she felt Cara’s hand on the back of her head, pulling her closer, urgently.

The storm outside began to increase, and it was as if for every increasing beat of her heart lightening cracked and glowed in the room, filling even her closed eyes with the scalding blue light.

Kahlan matched Cara’s need, and they deepened the kiss. Throughout her entire body she felt the urgency, the need. Had it been so long? Moments that passed without this connection to her mate seemed to have lasted an eternity.

Kahlan groaned as she allowed Cara to pull her down, on top of her, as hands began moving hastily, urgently over her back, gathering her thin shift in naked hands, as she felt Cara’s legs shifting beneath her, creating for Kahlan the perfect place to lay.

Desperately Cara’s full lips rained kisses along her jaw, down the length of Kahlan’s neck. She arched it back, whimpering Cara’s name, feeling the overwhelming desire pulsing through her veins, the need to join with her, to have their hearts beat rapidly together as one. To be consumed completely in the fire of their love. As lips moved back up the length of her neck, traveling back to her mouth, Cara’s low voice vowed complete and unconditional love.

“I love you, Kahlan.” She said even more firmly as their lips met again, and Kahlan’s body trembled with the surge of emotion she felt. That she felt for Cara and that Cara felt for her.

* * * * *

The storm outside created within Cara an urgency, as though she needed to be and feel and touch Kahlan in every way, before the storm passed by. The need to not waste a single moment more, sped her on, and so she did not hesitate. She could feel the love and the wholeness of Kahlan, could see it in her deepening blue eyes. She was overflowing with love, and Cara needed to feel that love. She needed to break and burn in that love, she needed to bring Kahlan to the climax of breaking before the storm ceased. She pulled her lips from Kahlan’s and rolled them over in the bed.

A flash of lightening illuminated Kahlan’s face as her back arched and her mouth fell open as she felt Cara’s fingers moving along the length of the already dripping center. Biting her lip with the feeling of her own pulsing desire, Cara moved rapidly down Kahlan’s body, pressing her face between her thighs. No teasing, no preamble. Just her mouth pressing on Kahlan’s smooth, hot skin, her lips feasting on the ever growing wetness.

Cara licked her swollen flesh savoring the taste of her arousal and the texture of her skin. Her tongue circled, loving the way Kahlan’s muscles responded with each pass, with each moment of added pressure.

“Cara… I need to taste you,” Kahlan groaned.

Cara replaced her tongue with her fingers and moved up Kahlan’s body. Slowly her fingertips spun around Kahlan’s tender clit. “Kiss me.” Cara whispered, looking down at her flushed face, and Kahlan did so, ravenously, licking Cara’s lips, sucking her tongue; tasting her own essence mixed with Cara’s mouth, and moaning, which Cara echoed.

Her thighs trembled, as Cara felt fingers move between them, as she felt Kahlan’s touch sliding along the drenched length of her. She watched, Kahlan’s fingers glistening, covered in Cara’s excitement, as Kahlan moved them to her mouth – but Cara intercepted, taking them into her mouth, deeply sucking off her own arousal, while looking sincerely into Kahlan’s hungry eyes.

Kahlan’s hips bucked against Cara’s hand and she groaned in protest as well as longing. Smiling she released the fingers from her mouth. Kahlan’s hand immediately went back between her legs, this time the Confessor began mimicking Cara’s movements, teasing her swollen clit with her fingertips, circling, with increasing amounts of pressure. Cara leaned closer to Kahlan and licked her lips, which opened, and Cara pressed their mouths together. Their kiss was raw, hungry, and passionate as tongues danced, as teeth pressed to lips. Kahlan broke their kiss just as her fingers left Cara’s scalding skin. This time, Cara waited, and watched as Kahlan’s fingers made their way to her mouth.

Kahlan brushed her wet fingertips over Cara’s lips, coating them. A deep moan rumbled from Cara’s chest, as Kahlan leaned up and licked her lips dry.

“More.” Kahlan moaned, passionately.

Cara nodded; kissing her deeply, knowing there would be more.

The lightening storm increased, flashes of light repeatedly filling the room, and then the thunderous sound of rain, like a torrential explosion, hitting the stone of the balcony, slashing into the room, filling the air with the clean smell of it, the promise of spring, the promise of moments like this. Fulfillment of love, of passion.

Cara moaned desperately, overwhelmed by the tight wetness that surrounded her fingers as she slid inside of Kahlan. The thunder rolled in the room, obliterating the words of promise from her lips, but she felt them, just as she felt the same promise in the press of Kahlan’s lips against her throat. Cara seemed to feel the immense love pouring into her from Kahlan’s heart, just as she wanted to convey those same emotions to her mate. As they moved together, as they filled one another, moving rapidly, urgently together to the edge. Cara cried out Kahlan’s name, as her body broke, this time in complete pleasure and love, as she felt Kahlan’s body tighten just before the caress of her magic swarmed around the both of them as her release was reached. Cara’s mouth desperately found Kahlan’s and they continued to move against one another with one another, ridding out the exquisite throbbing of climax and marching quickly towards the edge again.

Another explosion sounded out side of their room, but with this one they both ended the kiss.

That last explosion was not lightening.

Kahlan looked to the windows, Cara could see reflected in her eyes a red glow, just before the sound of screams reached them.

Before another crash of lightening.

* * * * *

Kahlan stood, naked, looking out at her city as it seemed to burn. She did not care that the rain was landing on her skin, cold and hard. Her eyes were fixated on the red and orange flames that despite the rain reached for the very clouds.

Cara stepped behind her, and Kahlan moaned, feeling first the sensation of naked flesh pressing to her back, before Cara’s arms, and the black bear fur mantle was wrapped around the both of them. Cara set her chin on Kahlan’s shoulder.

“It was a bomb of some sort. Detonated beside the eastern wall. It did not penetrate. The Palace is still secure.”

“Alright.” Kahlan said, glad that while a bomb going off in Aydindril was of concern, that there was no need at that very moment to dress and rush and fight. She was exhausted, and knew she could barely hold up her sword.

“Do you see now? See your city burning? See the unrest. You must leave.”

“You were right.” She said her voice catching with emotion. “I know that I have to leave. I…just…can’t… the thought of leaving.”

“They will kill you if you stay, and I am confident that I cannot protect you here anymore. Not when there are hundreds of thousands of people who are at the mercy of the Dream Walker.”

“I… I had thought that our life, here in Aydindril, would be one of calm, of peace. That you and I.” Kahlan turned slightly under the soft fur, still in Cara’s arms. Her hand cupped Cara’s face tenderly. “I wanted nothing more than having a life with you here, you and I… happy. Safe.”

“Kahlan. Leaving Aydindril does not signify the end of us, nor does it stop our feelings.”

“I know. Cara, I DO know. It just feels like… a death.”

“There has been enough death in this place. View it as life? The birth of something new.”

“And the army marching towards us?”

“Do you think, honestly that either you or I would run from a battle? We will go to D’Hara, where you will be safe. And we will prepare the armies and we will strike at this monstrosity. And we will win.” Cara kissed her gently “You always win my love. This shall be no different.”

Part 15

“How do you feel?” Cara’s voice moved over her shoulder and brought her back from her thoughts as she stared at the receiving hall below them. Kahlan had been on her way to the Council Chambers, but something caused her to pause on the stairs. To just stop and take in the grandeur of this massive room with the dozen massive marble columns as wide around as two of the most ancient oak trees in all of the Midlands flanking it. The impressive stone work on the ribs and arches on the ceiling. They way the light of dawn slipped through the glass of the windows, making the shadows thicker and darker. This place, the whole of the Confessor’s Palace was beautiful with its bright white marble, and shadowed with its history and nooks and hidden rooms. Standing on the stairs, looking down she had felt that she should look, that she should take it all in, as though somehow Kahlan knew she would not see it again, at least not with the eyes she possessed today. Kahlan knew battles, and she knew the feeling of war, but deep inside of herself she seemed to know that what was coming was so very different than what she had ever experienced before, and it would change her.

“I feel…good.” She replied, her eyes noticing the movement of guards far below them. Their voices did not carry across the vast space of this room.

“Are you sure?” Cara was closer now, and Kahlan smiled as she felt their arms brush together.

“I am. I feel.” She turned and looked honestly into the eyes of her mate. “I feel strong. I feel love for you. I… I actually feel much like I did before I became Mord–Sith.” She confessed.

“And the bond?”

“Is faint. But there. I went to see Drefan. Apparently it will be some time before he is speaking clearly again.” Kahlan gave Cara a stern look, which she did not entirely mean. “But I could sense his thoughts, through the bond.” She took Cara’s gloved hand in hers. “Whatever you did? It worked. I have no headache. I feel no… need for pain.”

Cara sighed. “I am so glad.”

“What did you do?”

“Released the power of Dennee and Annabelle into you.”

“CARA!”

“What? I thought you knew? I hadn’t knocked you unconscious or anything. Two quillions. That Zedd used for the two of them. I smashed them and the power of the Confessors went into you.”

“How did you ever figure that out?”

“I didn’t.” She turned and looked down into the receiving hall. “The books in the Keep are ridiculously boring and hold no real information. I… assumed.”

“You were toying with powerful magics.” Kahlan said shocked.

“Apparently.” Cara said lifting her eyebrow as she turned back to Kahlan. “You can yell at me all you want later. Apparently someone of importance is coming into the Palace.”

“I called Queen Cyrilla in for an audience.”

Cara nodded, and Kahlan pulled on her hand, bringing the Mord–Sith closer. She breathed in the scent of her skin and her leather, as their bodies pressed together. “I love you Cara. Whatever you did? I am here, I am alive, you are alive…and I love you.”

Cara cupped the side of her head, and leaned into Kahlan, kissing her with a delicious sense of adoration, the way their lips met and moved together had Kahlan closing her eyes and leaning more into her mate. A low throaty moan came from her as she felt the tip of Cara’s tongue brush against her own, before pulling back, and tracing her upper lip for just a moment.

Kahlan licked her lips, relishing the taste of Cara, as the blonde stepped back and smiled. Kahlan’s eyes moved wantonly over Cara’s body, wanting more of those kisses, wanting to feel more of that body against hers. Her eyes froze as they settled on Cara’s thigh. She wore both holsters. Both Agiel.

“Cara, you are wearing my Agiel.”

“I am.” Cara said softly.

“But.”

“Kahlan, I do not think that you need it any longer. I will… keep it safe for you.” Kahlan looked into Cara’s eyes and saw nothing but understanding and honest hope.

She nodded, letting Cara know that she did understand. That if what Cara had done with releasing the power of not one but two additional Confessors into her, had in fact put the Mord–Sith inside of her to sleep. “Mm. Will you come down with me?”

“There are a few things I need to look into.”

Kahlan pouted. “I like it when you are beside me.”

“As do I. But you have things you need to do, and there is something that has been bothering me, and I want to look into it. Half of your new personal guards are at the bottom of these stairs, the other half are already in the Council Chamber, surrounding your chair.” Cara smiled. “I even took the liberty of having them wear the elite guard colors.”

“No one wears those except for during coronations.”

“Yes well. I decided that the blue and grey looked much better on them than the red and black.”

“You keep just making decisions.” Kahlan grinned at her.

“Someone has to.” Cara smirked, and with their hands joined they began walking down the stairs. “I will meet you later? Perhaps we can take dinner in our rooms? Alone?”

“I would like that very much.” Kahlan said softly, looking once more at Cara who as they moved down the stairs seemed to be beaming with a certain glow of pride.

* * * * *

Richard Rahl had become the Bringer of Death, and Nicci was spell bound by him. The way he moved seemed to suddenly be with purpose, his eyes moved about the forest as they walked with hawk like determination. If there was a movement, he would see it. He would see it with his eyes and he would see it with the use of his Han.

Somehow, during the attack by the Sisters of the Dark he had finally found himself. He had instinctually found his true self, and as he embraced it, and who he was, he became changed. Richard was finally living as the man prophesies foretold him to be. He was sure of foot, and his focus was sharp as the Sword of Truth that hung at his side.

“You see, my boy, there are those for whom magic and power lies in instinct. Then there are those, like the boys you met at the Palace of the Prophets who were born with a slight advantage of having more magic in them than the everyday boy. But to use that magic, or Han, they need to study, to practice and to train.”

“Which is why the Palace of the Prophets is spelled, why time slows there, to allow them more time for the study.”

“Correct.” The Wizard nodded.

“And I, who have had hardly any training, seem to be in tune with my magic, why?” Richard asked, holding a low hanging Oak tree branch aside, as the Wizard, and then Nicci passed by.

“Because you are acting on instinct. You know what you want to have happen, and it manifests, it becomes true. You want a ball of fire in your palm? You think it and it is. You want to explode that tree? Think it and it is done.”

“Why did they not explain this to me in this way? Why did Sister Vera and the Prelate talk in circles about it taking years and years for me to learn the smallest aspects of my gifts?”

“No one believed that you could in fact be what you are.” Nicci interjected, as she moved between the two men as they walked, her eyes catching Richard’s for just a moment as they passed. She noticed his eyes narrow on her, but not with a look of hate. Nor a look of lust. His look was the one she always wanted to be granted, it was a look of understanding.

“And what am I?” Richard asked.

“A War Wizard.” Nicci said looking over her shoulder.

“Nicci! You do not know that is true.” Zedd argued.

“Of course I do. Just because we do not like the truth, does not change it from being the truth.” She replied, feeling the weight of her words all the more, as Richard’s eyes smiled at her.

* * * * *

After curt and official introductions Queen Cyrilla settled into the chair that had been placed beside Kahlan’s on the dais. She watched the Queen’s eyes move over her new guards, and her looks were that of interest, and perhaps shock with how quietly they stood, how their eyes were focused forward. Kahlan knew Queen Cyrilla, who was Prince Harold’s sister, and knew she was an intelligent woman. She was fairly certain the Queen knew exactly the length and dedication of these men.

The Queen smiled, and the lines around her eyes, conveyed her gentleness as well as the decade of age she had over Kahlan.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Kahlan smiled in return.

“Or course, Mother Confessor.”

“Kahlan.” She stressed.

“Oh… I don’t think so.” Queen Cyrilla’s smile became even wider.

“Well, I tried.”

“Harold told me some of what has been going on, what you believe is happening in the south.”

Kahlan nodded. “Yes, scouts have been sent, and I am hopeful that in two weeks time they will return with word. I will rely on you to convey that information to me.”

“And I shall, Mother Confessor.” The Queen looked at her hand. “I will not swear my loyalty or devotion to Lord Rahl.”

“I never expected that you would, Queen Cyrilla. Your devotion is first and foremost to the people of Galea. I know this. I trust in your judgment and your compassion. This is why I think above all members of the Central Council you will be the most levelheaded and just, acting as the First Chair in my absence.”

“I am still not sure why you are so quick to leave. You are Queen of D’Hara, but you are Mother Confessor first.”

“Yes. I am.” Kahlan smiled, and leaned forward. “This is less to do with me going to D’Hara, as it is rallying troops for any probability. As the Midlands have the unfortunate knowledge, the army of D’Hara is massive and very well trained. It is important for Lord Rahl to go before these troops, to get their support.”

“I forget that your husband has not been at the helm of his kingdom long.”

“Exactly.” Kahlan watched Queen Cyrilla’s face closely, as her eyes seemed to darken as she considered something.

“Acting as First Chair.” She paused for a moment. “Would my voice be law?”

Kahlan was quiet for a instant, though she already knew how she was going to reply. Just as she knew this question would be asked and just as she knew that it was the one thing she feared. If the Dream Walker was able to work her way into the Queen’s mind, then they would have the authority and command of the Central Council.

“Yes, you would be the voice of the people, the first in command of the Council, and you would only answer to me. I am still Mother Confessor, here in Aydindril or not. I will still have the final categorical word over all matters. The Generals and Prince Harold follow my commands and mine alone. They will of course report to you and the Council, but I am the commander of all the armies.” Kahlan’s voice was firm, with no room for argument, debate or question. The Queen pursed her lips ever so slightly; she probably did not even realize she did it. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Oh, no Mother Confessor. Of course not. I think this is a good idea, and you are taking the D’Haran Army with you?”

“Yes. We will all be leaving in a fortnight. It does take time for an army of that size to prepare. Also, half of your Galean troops in Aydindril? They will be coming as well, and then the remaining half will be staying here to work with the Home Guard and see to your safety.”

The Queen did not like that, but Kahlan knew that Galean had more troops back in their kingdom. She was not worried yet for the safety of Aydindril based on the threat of the army to the south. Her concerns were more immediate and had to do with the unrest, that she prayed to the Spirits would lesson once she and the D’Haran army left.

“Official notifications have been drawn up, and we merely need to sign them before they are delivered to each member of the Council. Are there any concerns or questions you may have?”

“How will we communicate?”

“You will be provided a journey book. Either I or Prince Harold will communicate with you in that way. If for some reason they fail? Messengers will be sent back and forth. With the weather in the mountains improving, the journey will not be as long as it once was.”

“Fine. Will you be speaking directly with the High Prince of Kelton?”

“I didn’t think that would be necessary. I know, as do all of them Midlands about the feud between your two kingdoms, but I would think that during a time like this those issues can be set aside for the greater good of all. Nitpicking and finger pointing will do no good. Nor will each kingdom deluding themselves thinking that they can look after themselves alone against whatever threat may be approaching. From what I have been told so far the army that comes from the Old World is like nothing we have ever faced, any of us. We will know the validity of those fears soon enough. But, Kelton is still paying retribution to me and to all of the Midlands for the actions of Prince Fyren.”

“Yes Mother Confessor.”

“Well, has that been settled? Are you prepared to step in to the roll of governance in my absence?”

“With pleasure, and honor Mother Confessor.”

* * * * *

She felt someone behind her before she heard them. Her body did not register the presence as a threat, merely another nearby. Looking over her shoulder she could see Hally standing just inside the shadows, staying outside of this small room.

It was one of the thousands of libraries in the Wizard’s Keep, one that she had ventured into when Zedd was still here. He had mentioned at the time something about his room belonging to a Second Wizard. Cara had thought that comment odd. That there were First, Second, Third, apparently even down to Sixth Wizards. Not a very imaginative ranking system. Not that Zedd had asked her opinion.

“I was expecting Rikka to suddenly appear this morning.” Cara said, turning back to the papers on the desk. She had a dream the night before, so very different than the nightmares she was accustomed to. She doubted the dream was sent by the Dream Walker, knowing that through her bond to Lord Rahl she was protected. Though, now that she accepted the idea of a Dream Walker, any and all dreams she had that seemed out of the ordinary were suspect to her. She feared she would always wonder if there was someone with the gift sending her into dreams where she was clothed in a pink dress, weak as a kitten, unable to fight, or even fend for herself. Cara shuddered at the thought. Though in the dream the night before, she had come here, and retrieved a few odds and ends. Her dream self told her that they may be needed.

Quickly she rolled the few sheets of parchment around the black and green quill with its white gold tip, and dropped them all into a narrow leather case.

“She is with the Mother Confessor.”

Cara nodded, stuffing the small cylinder into her pack, along with a small book. The book was full of tiny writing. She could not read a word of it. But perhaps Berdine could.

“And you came all this way, to the Keep, to…”

“One Sister can’t come to see another?”

“Can? Yes. To do so? Suspect.”

“When we leave here?” Hally said, looking strangely shameful as her eyes moved to her hands. Cara waited. Knowing what she was going to say, but still, waiting out the petite Mord–Sith. Making her say it. “Will any Mord–Sith be staying here?”

“Yes.” Cara said, pulling the ties closed on her pack, slinging it over her shoulder and turning to face Hally.

“Have you decided who will be staying?”

“I have.”

Hally rolled her eyes and glared at Cara, understanding that she was not going to make this conversation an easy one. Cara felt her smirk blossom on her lips.

“Will I be ordered to stay here, in Aydindril?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Her eyes dropped.

“Tosha and Galina will stay here. They will protect the Keep. As Mord–Sith are the only ones who are able to deflect and fight magic, Sergeant Wyborn could use their assistance.” Cara crossed her arms, taking pleasure from the emotions that danced across Hally’s face, those that she was trying desperately to control and keep hidden. The young Mord–Sith was skilled at such a thing, but clearly not when it came to her feelings for a certain Captain. As Hally squirmed like a worm on a hook, Cara took a small amount of pity on her, and added. “You will accompany us to D’Hara.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“As will Captain Ryan.”

Hally’s eyes flashed up to meet Cara’s. “Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“But… why?”

“The Mother Confessor’s idea.” Cara shrugged, as if that was enough of an answer. And from the sparkle in Hally’s eyes, apparently it was.

“I… I see.” Hally stammered.

“So, was that the reason you came here?”

A slight blush rose in Hally’s cheeks and Cara could almost hear the wheels in her mind turning, trying to come up with a different reason. “Spar!” She burst out.

“Oh?” Cara’s brows rose.

“I wanted to see if you would be up to sparing with me.”

“Very thin excuse, Hally. But I am always willing to best you in hand to hand, if that is what you would like.”

* * * * *

Kahlan tapped her finger to her lips, thinking about what Rikka had just asked. While it did not come as a great surprise, she still was not sure if she in fact liked it. She had become used to having the dour Mord–Sith around, in fact all of them had managed to dispel all of the years of teaching and hate she had felt towards them. Not merely when Kahlan became Mord–Sith herself, but it went beyond that, in having them around her, she had learned that they were each one unique, stubbornly independent and their own women. They were bound to the Lord Rahl, and they were part of the Sisterhood of the Agiel, but they were also women. Rikka had volunteered to travel south with the Galean Calvary that would be moving quickly through D’Hara and into the Deep Nothing, to investigate the border between D’Hara and the Old World.

“I would like it better if you stayed with us.” Kahlan said.

“I need to be in the thick of whatever may come. That is what I was created for, Mother Confessor. I am not a trainer, I am not a researcher, I am not a strategist. I was made Mord–Sith to be a soldier, I was made to be the steel against the steel, to be hard and sharp and cut deeply in the name of my Lord Rahl. Let me do this.”

“I understand… I do. You must promise to me that you will be careful. Once you have checked the area you are to return to the People’s Palace and report.” Kahlan said firmly.

“You are worried about me.” Rikka stated with a look of surprise on her face.

“Of course I am!”

“There is no need.” Rikka was silent for a moment, before she continued. “You are a fine Lord Rahl, and I am proud to follow you. That has not always been the case.”

“I know.” Kahlan smiled, accepting the compliment, and feeling touched by Rikka’s sincerity.

“Mother Confessor?”

“Yes?”

“Be mindful of Prince Harold.”

Kahlan felt her face display her confusion. “Why would you say that?”

“I…” Rikka looked down for a moment, as though she was suddenly reconsidering what she had said.

“Rikka. I value your thoughts and your opinions. I know you do not trade in idle gossip. If you have concern then I would like to hear it.” Kahlan facilitated.

“I witnessed a moment between the Prince and Shota. They are, familiar with one another.”

Kahlan’s lips pulled tight. Rikka had emphasized the word, ‘familiar’. “I see. Thank you.”

“I thought that you should know, Mother Confessor.”

“Did you tell Cara?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Let me handle the Prince.”

“As you command, Mother Confessor.”

Gently Kahlan smiled, she would keep a close eye on the Prince.

* * * * *

“Why is it you have all the fun when I am away?” The large man, Chase, grumbled, tossing a small branch he had been cracking into smaller and smaller pieces in his hand as they walked.

They had come to the fork in the main road, where the large Boundary Warden had been waiting for them. Since giving his devotion to Lord Rahl, he seemed calm and reserved. Richard informed Nicci that the man was acting very much as he used to. Everyone but Nicci seemed relieved; as it did not matter to her if Richard’s childhood friend was acting in character or not. She could and would have dispatched him, feeling nothing. The joyous reunion seemed somewhat trivial, but she was pleased when the Boundary Warden informed them that the town he had ventured away to had no sign of troops from the Imperial Order. The size of the Imperial Order’s Army was one flaw in its otherwise unstoppable power. It took months to travel short distances. This would give them, who could move swiftly, time to reach the Mother Confessor.

“Just your luck I suppose.” Richard joked.

“Your mission was vastly important, Chase.” the Wizard replied, as he looked through the packs of supplies the Boundary Warden had brought.

Nicci wondered if Kahlan ever found herself so very bored when traveling with all these men. It seemed that days were filled with Richard explaining flora and fauna, usually incorrectly, the Wizard eating, and now this man talking of battles. She shook her head. She could not take this for much longer.

* * * * *

Two of the Mother Confessor’s new guards stood on either side of the chamber door, and neither moved, nor lifted their eyes as she moved between them. Closing the door behind her Cara wondered if she should ask them their names. It was such an odd thought. Her entire life at the People’s Palace she had moved through guarded doors, between men in uniforms designating their affiliation, and she had never given them more thought than one would a table or a painting on the wall. They were just there.

Why she would suddenly feel the need to care? She wondered, as she set her pack down beside the table and chairs, if this was all part of her becoming soft. Caring about what a guards name was? She could not afford to be soft, nor to care. Especially not if there truly was a war on the horizon.

She swallowed the questions and the thoughts as she walked deeper into the room, seeing the table covered with a vast selection of food, laid out for the evening meal. She did not sense Kahlan here yet, but seemed to know that soon she would be here. She took a small slice of green apple from the tray and popped it into her mouth as she continued into the bed chamber. Opening the glass paned doors, she let in the cold evening air. The clouds over the city where thick and gray, promising another downpour later. Which would, in theory, clear the air of the acrid lingering smoke from the fires and the explosion of the Dragon’s Breath the night before. Her arms crossed as she looked over the city. It seemed to be humming with an unfamiliar sound. If tension had a sound it would be reminiscent of a minstrel’s mandolin, with two strings snapped, and the remaining tightened to the point that the moment they are plucked they would vibrate in an ear splitting tone before breaking. That was the sound of Aydindril. Cara knew that the worst was yet to come, and that in leaving Kahlan would have a better chance at surviving, even though it went against the Mother Confessor’s nature to just abandon her people.

Cara hoped that in time Kahlan would understand that leaving was not an act of abandonment, but an act of preservation. If she lived, and if they were able to rally against the unforeseen menace and prevail? Then all of her people would be protected.

It would just take time. As did everything that was worth having.

Leaving the open doors, Cara went to the small table beside the bed, where the journey book had been left. She opened the worn leather cover and as she expected, looked down at blank pages. Still no word from Berdine, or Raina. She sighed heavily and then slammed the book closed. As much as she wanted to send another message, Cara did not know for certain who had the book. What if it had fallen into the wrong hands? If Berdine and Raina had been captured or worse.

She tasted the tang of blood in her mouth before she realized that her teeth had bitten through her cheek slightly. There was nothing she could do, if in fact that was the case. If the other two Mord–Sith had been captured, they were hundreds of leagues away and the reality was there was nothing she could do about it. Thinking on it, willing herself over mountains and vast plains would make no difference. Her desire and intent was not enough. She just had to accept that. She would find a way to unearth the cause of their silence, when it was possible to do so.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands moving to the thick leather around her neck, and she unbuckled it, loosening the ties, but did not take it off completely.

Cara closed her eyes, and she tried to calm her mind, which was racing down a dozen different pathways, seeing circumstances and outcomes. From the Dream Walker, to Berdine, to the journey to D’Hara, and what she had done to Kahlan.

That morning she seemed so much more herself, more so than Cara had remembered her being all winter. Was it a temporary reprieve, or had she, in her naïve stubbornness actually stumbled upon a way to correct the damage she had done in leading Kahlan into becoming Mord–Sith? If in fact the added power of the Confessor was able to keep the Blood Lust and the headaches away. Cara had never been one to give in to blind faith, but she did now. She did the moment the idea begun to grow in her mind. She wanted to believe that it would work. That she could bring Kahlan the joy and peace Cara knew the brunette deserved. When Kahlan would smile, the honest and pure smile she bestowed upon Cara from time to time, it made her heart stop and thunder at the same time. It made her feel not like Mord–Sith, not like the killer her past proved she was. No. When that smile shown on her she was Cara, the woman. And she felt as though she was worthy of the Mother Confessor’s love, and that in giving her love in return, she was doing what was right. What was just. That together the two of them were whole.

When the door opened in the anteroom, Cara became aware that she had taken off her gloves, and that her hand was moving over the soft white linen covering the bed. The massive and wonderful bed. The bed where she and Kahlan had consummated their love, where they had explored one another, where if Cara was honest with herself, where she had hoped so much more would have happened between the two of them. Not the Mord–Sith and Mother Confessor, but between Kahlan and Cara.

Her eyes looked up, and she knew she smiled softly, seeing Kahlan step into the room, her dark hair moving fluidly, along with the bright white material of her gown.

“Hello there.” Kahlan said, returning Cara’s smile. Her voice held a quality to it, one that now Cara understood, when before she had not. But now, as if a bucket of iced river water had been dumped over her head she knew. That tone? That was Kahlan saying, between words that she loved Cara.

“Hello.” Cara replied in the same way.

Kahlan’s fingers moved and undid the ties across her chest, loosening them.

“Productive day?” Cara asked, content to watch as Kahlan began to remove her white dress.

“One could say so. Letters signed and sent out to all the members of Council. Announcing that we, and the Army will be leaving Aydindril within a fortnight.”

“So we leave tomorrow.” Cara smirked.

“Of course.” Kahlan agreed, the white dress being set aside. “Can’t have the populous knowing our exact movements.” Her fingers moved to the black leather corset, unlatching buckles.

Cara’s eyebrow twitched. She had not expected Kahlan to strip completely, not that she minded. Not at all. Especially after some of the thoughts she had had a moment before, of the two of them on this bed.

“I … I will miss this bed.” Cara said, her eyes not moving from Kahlan as she continued to strip.

“We will return to it.”

Her voice became husky. “But, there were so many things I wanted to do with you on this bed.”

“Oh?” Kahlan asked, looking at her with very interested eyes.

“Many MANY things, Mother Confessor.”

“We did do many things.”

“MORE things.” Cara stressed, her hands moving to remove the leather around her neck, and then to the thick band around her ribs.

“We have tonight.” Kahlan said softly, as her own corset released her, and it fell to the ground.

Cara bit back her moan as Kahlan stepped free of her leggings, and was suddenly, pristinely naked. “Yes… We do, don’t we?”

“So what have we not done in this bed?” Kahlan purred, stepping closer, her hands quickly working remove Cara’s belt, and then the Agiel harness around her thigh. “That you want to do?”

“I want you to…” The red leather surrounding her seemed to sigh as it was loosened. “..to lay back for me.” With the assistance of Kahlan’s hands, they peeled the leather from Cara’s skin. Kahlan’s eyes searched hers, pleading with her to finish her thought. “I want to feast on you.”

Cara watched as Kahlan bit her lip, hard, and her eyes seemed to darken. “We have done that, Cara.”

“Mm. Perhaps… but…not.”

Kahlan stepped up to her, pressing their warm and naked flesh together perfectly. A vibration of desire pulsed just below Cara’s skin.

“Not?” Kahlan whispered.

“Will you… would you… if I…then…”

“Are you?” Kahlan leaned forward and licked Cara’s lips. “Embarrassed?”

“WHAT?” Cara’s brow crinkled. “Of course not!”

“Then… tell me…” Kahlan’s voice lowered to a caress. “Tell me, Cara.”

“I want to lay beneath you, I want you to straddle my”– her words were silenced, as Kahlan’s lips took her own desperately, with an explosion of passion and need.

* * * * *

The feeling of naked flesh pressed together, the way it smoothly moved together, seemingly as though each of their bodies were made for the other, it never became routine, it never lost the passion and the vivid intoxication that she felt the very first time. There seemed to be a charge of energy between them, as their breasts pressed together, as Kahlan lifted her leg slightly, wrapping it around the back of Cara’s thighs. She moaned Cara’s name as they kissed, feeling her body tremble with the all consuming passion building between them.

Kahlan’s tongue moved with her mate’s, as if dancing together, as if she was exploring the depths and textures of Cara’s mouth for the first time.

Cara’s hair was gathering in Kahlan’s purposeful hand, and her mouth lifted away.

“Cara… Oh I love you.” Kahlan groaned, never tiring of the surge of emotion that she felt when she said those three words aloud, nor how Cara’s eyes softened as she heard them spoken. Cara moved her hips circularly, both knowing and feeling their centers just brushing together, teasingly. Her eyes opened and she was looking into the deep dark blue green bliss of Cara, at the flush that brought color to her cheeks, and the glistening wet and kiss swollen lips that parted.

“I love you.” Cara vowed. Her mouth found Kahlan’s cheeks, and she mapped her entire face with her lips, and Kahlan could feel her warm breath, caressing her.

The love between them seemed tangible, alive as it filled her heart, traveled through the length of her body. Her back arched up, as those lips moved down the length of her neck, burning a trail over her skin. In each kiss, and in the soft touch of Cara’s finger tips on her arms, Kahlan could hear in her soul Cara’s voice, promising love, and warmth; vowing that they would have moments such as this, that the bond between them would be stronger and more enduring than even the rising moon outside the open doors.

* * * * *

The thigh on her shoulder trembled, and Cara leaned her cheek into it, to ground Kahlan in the moment, to keep her with her, focused on the cadence that her mouth and her tongue was playing as it moved through her wetness. With each beat of Kahlan’s heart Cara felt the assurance of her love, with each pass of her mouth over Kahlan’s swollen flesh she felt her own emotion growing. She reached deeply with her tongue, moving it inside of Kahlan, and she tasted the exquisite flavor of her excitement, and the hint of salt.

Salt from the tears that Cara’s eyes released. And she did not care. They were not tears of sadness or weakness, they were tears of love; an emotional release that she needed. Because she was so consumed by her love for Kahlan, it seemed as though it was so strong, and so powerful that not even her body could contain it.

Kahlan’s entire body tightened, ready to fall over the edge into bliss, and she shifted herself away from Cara’s mouth, which caused her to groan in dissatisfaction. As Kahlan pulled herself away from Cara she opened her eyes and glared openly at her, for taking the heaven she had found away.

“Now… I need… lay down Cara. I need you now.” She panted out her request. Cara’s muscles tightened, expecting to feel the order through the bond, but it was not there. She did not feel compelled. Instead she looked into Kahlan’s dark blue eyes and she felt more than compelled, seeing the need and the passion in her eyes. Cara felt the overwhelming sensation of her own desire and excitement.

Nodding she rolled onto her back, and moaned loudly as she felt Kahlan’s hands on her thighs, spreading her legs. She whimpered Kahlan’s name as she set her thighs on either side of Cara’s face, and she was blessed, even in the growing darkness with the sight of Kahlan’s center, dripping wet, blushed and swollen.

Cara’s hands reached up, her fingers gripping Kahlan’s buttocks with need, and she pulled her center down to her waiting mouth. With renewed vigor her tongue entered Kahlan, and she felt the muscles welcoming her, pulsing for her.

She swallowed deeply as her own body trembled, feeling Kahlan’s mouth mimicking hers, as she felt her tongue exploring her dripping core. Cara moaned deeply as Kahlan’s lips surrounded her clit and sucked. Her entire body tightened, her muscles dancing under the direction of Kahlan’s dedicated mouth. Cara follower her lead, and did the same. Feeling the firm nub between her lips, suckling it, before teasing the tip with her tongue.

“Oh… oh spirits!” Kahlan’s mouth pulled away from Cara, and she knew, she could feel what was about to overtake the Confessor, she could feel the muscles tightening under her lips, could taste the change in her essence that it was literally pouring out of her. And knowing her mate was so close to the edge, she held her hips firmly, pressed her mouth desperately against the burning wet skin, her tongue tipping inside of her, as deep as she could go, as her nose pressed to Kahlan’s swollen nub.

She had to groan, as she felt Kahlan’s mouth return to her own center, and she felt the brunette’s mouth in a frenzy moving against her inner lips, as her tongue ran up and down the length of her, and she knew her own body would not be far behind Kahlan’s if she even lasted that long.

* * * * *

“Mm… Cara.” She said softly, barely more than a whisper, and Cara moved her fingers over her warm and smooth back, feeling the peace in her muscles, the relaxed state of Kahlan’s body.

In the darkness she could not see the bruises she knew her fingers had left, nor the scratches along Kahlan’s freckled skin. She pressed her lips to her shoulder, and wrapped her arms around her, settling her head on her’s. Knowing her mate was at peace and was sleeping, and feeling the swell in her heart, the swell of pride, the swell of love, the swell of commitment.

* * * * *

Her body welcomed her waking mind with aching muscles. Muscles that ached in all the most wonderful ways. As she stretched out her leg, Kahlan could feel the tightness in her thigh, and it made her sigh gently, remembering what it was that had strained her muscles. Delicious moments with Cara.

Faintly she heard a contented sigh, and slowly she opened her eyes. Cara lay on her side, fully dressed, her head in her hand, watching Kahlan with warm eyes.

Kahlan could not help but smile. Opening her eyes and having Cara’s loving face be the very first thing she saw. How many years had she dreamt of a moment such as this? Of feeling so very loved, and content? It had seemed like her entire life she had wanted this feeling, but had thought that feelings and moments such as these were not meant for her. She was not supposed to love her mate, let alone have a mate who loved her by their own will. And yet, here she was. Facing this amazing woman who did love her for who she was, and who she in turn loved. She watched as Cara attempted to hold back her own smile, as her eyes dropped, but then, as if Kahlan’s own mood and smile were infectious, Cara’s eyes smiled, and then her lips followed suit, and she returned that very special smile. The smile that was just for Kahlan, which lit her face brighter than a hundred suns.

“Hello.” Kahlan said, stretching her entire body, and then moaning, loving the feel of her muscles’ protest.

“Hello.” Cara answered, still smiling, and still trying not to, adorably.

“You are dressed.”

“I am.”

“And I am not.”

“I prefer it that way.”

“Oh? Should I then stay naked all the time?”

Cara chuckled gently. “If I got my way? Yes.”

“That would be a sight. My riding into battle? Completely naked?”

“Oh.” Cara leaned closer. “I am quite certain that the masses? They would be stunned and very appreciative if you did.” Softly she kissed Kahlan’s cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too Cara.” She reached out and set her palm to her cheek. “So very much.”

* * * * *

“Oh yes, let’s travel to D’Hara early, right at the beginning of the rainy season.” Kahlan grumbled as her hands went to her hair and she tried to wring some of the rain water from it. Her eyes glared at Cara who looked just as miserable, her hair hanging heavily around her face, her leather glistening and looking as though it was getting tighter every moment.

“Really Kahlan?” She snapped.

“Yes. Really.” Kahlan laughed as Hally ran under the thick overhanging of rock against the mountain trail, both looking as miserable as Kahlan felt. “Any luck?”

“A series of caves, just as you predicted Mistress Cara.” Hally said, and Kahlan watched as she put her hands on her hips and turned to face Kahlan with a smiling look of success.

“See.” Cara said.

“Inhabited by Gars.”

Cara’s face fell.

“But they decided to leave.” Hally offered.

“Gars? Decided to leave?” Kahlan asked incredulously.

“There may have been fire, screaming, a very unhappy and wet witch woman?” Hally offered, before shaking her head, and sending water flying around them. “So, we can camp there for the night. With enough room for all of us. Just don’t mind the décor.”

“Décor?” Kahlan asked her eyebrow lifting.

“You know, rotting corpses, and some cleanly picked bones.”

“Perhaps I will stay here.” Kahlan said trying not to blanch. She felt a hand on her elbow, and looked to see Cara’s eyes flashing.

“She was kidding. By the time we get there, it will be an acceptable place to weather the storm. Isn’t that right Hally?”

“Um. Yes?” Hally smiled, and then half bowed before rushing back down the rain slicked trail, to do just that.

“Cara, I am sure it won’t bother me.”

“Mm.”

“I was just kidding.” She pleaded.

“Still, it will give them all something to do for a while.”

“A while? Why would it be a while? I am soaked to the skin, as are you.”

“I know.” Cara pulled Kahlan against her body suddenly. “You are soaked; your skin is coated with water. And I am suddenly very thirsty.” Her eyes looked up into Kahlan’s and she felt her knees go a little weak, and then weaker still as Cara’s lips moved stirringly on her own.

Part 16

Through the sound of the falling rain she heard a low moan, and it took her a moment to realize it was her own voice, moaning Cara’s name. Leaning against the wet rock, she had left reality for a time; there had been no cold rain, there had not been the pressure of rock against her back, forcing the sword and sheath painfully against her shoulder blades; there had been nothing but the intoxicating sensation of lips meeting, of the taste of rain from Cara’s skin, of the warmth that swelled from the inside to out.

Kahlan blinked the drops of water from her eyes, seeing the top of Cara’s head, blonde hair made dark with the rain, and her throat made another sound as teeth nipped across the flesh of her neck. Passion was certainly ruling her reason, as her hands moved with their own volition, grasping Cara’s shoulder, her back, holding her closer, as close as possible. Her fingertips moved through her hair, down the back of her neck, touching the naked skin there, and loving immensely the fact that Cara was not wearing her full Mord–Sith regalia, and that without it, Kahlan’s fingers could slide along her wet skin, following the line of the muscles in her neck, over her collar bone, and down between her breasts.

“Kahlan.” Her name was whispered with the tone of longing.

Her own body trembled in reply, feeling that longing as well. In the two days of traveling they had not stolen time like this, alone.

Cara looked up at her, and as she did it allowed Kahlan’s hand to move between leather and flesh, to cup Cara’s full breast in the palm of her hand. As Cara’s eyes closed, Kahlan leaned forward, capturing her lips, biting gently her bottom lip, before sucking it desperately. Deepening the kiss her body ached to feel more, to know the wonder of release that she found only in the touch of her mate. Though standing here, in the wide open, anyone could walk around the corner and be upon them. Part of that knowledge made Kahlan’s heart beat harder, stronger, with the possibility of it.

Not that any of their traveling companions were ignorant to the fact that the two of them were lovers. Still, there was a sense of titillation at being so blatant and so free.

Cara leaned harder into her, and she could hear the scrape of metal from the sword at her back on rock, and the sigh of leather as it rubbed together. It was Kahlan who moved her lips this time, running her tongue along the length of Cara’s neck, swallowing the rain and the salty sheen of sweat from her skin. Her hand flexed, cupping Cara’s breast more firmly, her thumb running across her hard nipple. And the tips of her fingers felt something different.

She pulled her mouth from Cara’s skin, and looked down, seeing what her fingers had found. A tied bundle. The locks of her hair that she had cut for Cara months before.

“That’s mine.” Cara said softly, her fingers moving to surrounded Kahlan’s.

“Yes, It is.” Kahlan smile widened as Cara took the hair back, tucked it inside of her leathers, against her breast. Kahlan smiled, knowing that Cara kept the locks of hair, but also knowing that she too kept something in a similar place. She kept the small piece of red leather against her heart as well.

“We should…” Cara said softly.

“We should.” Kahlan agreed, but did not entirely mean it. She knew that Cara did not mean it either. Her hand rested on Cara’s chest, over her heart. “You look like… you did before.”

Cara’s brow rose in question.

“Your… leather.” Kahlan offered as way of clarification.

“I discovered that traveling requires a certain leniency.”

“Oh?”

“It is too uncomfortable to sleep with… buckles everywhere.” She rolled her eyes and looked away. Kahlan was not sure if the sudden shyness that seemed to overtake Cara was due to her uniform, or the fact that Kahlan now knew what Cara kept close to her heart. Her mate, who seemed stoic so much of the time, had such a large and endearing heart. And Kahlan knew it.

“Let’s not go just yet.” Kahlan whispered, and for a moment she thought that perhaps the falling rain covered the sound of her voice, because Cara still looked out into the distance, past the dark line of trees. Then slowly she turned back to Kahlan, her eyes seeming to darken slightly in the quickly fading light. Her lips twitched ever so, as if she were fighting off a smile.

“No?” She asked softly.

“No. Please. Not just yet.” Kahlan knew her tone was bordering on a plea, and didn’t care. She could go to the cave and spend the night in it with the others, if she had a few moments more to replay over and over in her mind. Her fingers reached out, grabbing Cara’s belt and she pulled. Cara, to her credit did not resist, and in fact stepped close, and set her hands on the rock wall, on either side of Kahlan’s head. Her lips did then pull into a smile, warm and loving.

Kahlan accepted the unspoken invitation and pressed her lips to Cara’s just once, before biting her full bottom lip, and sucking it into her mouth hungrily.

The moan that she heard from Cara thrilled her heart. The rain began to fall heavier, thick and full drops, hitting with a biting chill that Kahlan welcomed against her fevered skin. Her hand moved to cup Cara’s face, while her other hand which was still holding fast to Cara’s belt, relinquished it’s hold and slipped down, moving with the culverts of rain down her strong thigh.

As Kahlan’s hand moved knowingly between Cara’s legs, the Mord–Sith seemed to submit to her kiss, and Kahlan’s tongue which moved deeply inside of her mouth, relishing the flavor of her. The specific taste that was Cara. The rain was now as thick as if they were standing beneath a waterfall, and it brought out a texture to Cara’s lips, and her skin that was intoxicating and new.

All she could seem to hear was the beating of her own heart as the water rushed over them, and it’s beat increased as she felt Cara suck and pull her tongue deeper into her mouth. Some how hands were moving over her body, and through the thick leather of her dress and corset she could magically feel the touch as if it were on her naked skin. Her own hand began moving more urgently back and forth against Cara’s core, as she felt fingers gripping roughly on her naked thigh. Their lips and tongues danced rapidly, moving together with the passionate need that consumed them both.

Kahlan as sure that she no longer needed to breathe, all that she needed was Cara’s kiss, the movement of their lips. Her whole body throbbed as the tip of Cara’s tongue moved along the roof of her mouth. The blonde trembled in her arms, as her hips jerked suddenly, moving in opposition to her hand.

She swallowed the essence of Cara’s mouth along with the clean rain, and moaned as fingers moved along the inside of her thigh, reaching for her.

A scream sounded in the distance. While not human it was enough to clear the ardent fog from Kahlan’s eyes. She set her forehead to Cara’s as they both panted heavily.

“Interrupted once again.” Cara grumbled.

“I know. Still… when you kiss me like that? The world? It ceases to exist.” Kahlan confessed.

Cara’s eyes smiled at hers. “I know.” Gently her kiss swollen lips pressed to Kahlan’s. “I feel it too.”

Without discussion, Cara’s hand found Kahlan’s. Their fingers entwined and they began walking along the muddy path. Kahlan knew that if they talked about returning to the others they would not. Night was thickening around them, and as much as she wanted to stay right where they were, as much as she wanted to return to the blissful world she found herself submerged in as they kissed, with Gars in the area it would be smart if they went to the others. Kissing would have to wait.

“You… are beautiful.” Kahlan affirmed, her hand moving up to touch Cara’s wet forearm.

“Still deadly?” She smirked.

“Always deadly.” Kahlan smiled, and then thought for a moment, wondering when Cara had changed, when she went from the smirking stubborn Cara who looked like this, as they traveled the Midlands, to the regimented and serious Mord–Sith who had seemed to emerge in Aydindril. Not that Kahlan had minded the change; on the contrary, there was comfort and pride in seeing Cara in her full uniform. When once it had created discontent and anger; reminders of what a Mord–Sith was; when Cara had appeared before her, chin held high, eyes clear, the rigid leather seemed to emphasize the woman who wore it. “Cara?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you start to wear your Mord–Sith leathers again?”

“They were all that I had. You do recall that I took a knife to my others.”

Kahlan felt a blush rising in her cheeks, recalling not only the cause of the torment of emotions that caused Cara to take her dagger and cut the leather from her skin, but also the look of Cara’s naked flesh, and seeing it for the first time. Albeit not under the best of circumstances. “I remember. But, after?”

Cara stopped walking and looked at Kahlan, her eyes serious. “I was reduced to a pile of emotions. Of everything a Mord–Sith is not. I found comfort at first in the familiar tightness. You understand? Having worn them yourself.”

Kahlan nodded, because she did understand. In being bound and held tightly by the leather there was a certain sense of belonging, of comfort.

“After that? I got used to them again. I…” She looked away, over Kahlan’s shoulder and her eyes clouded some, as if she was uncomfortable with the thought she was about to voice. “I… felt pride again, in being Mord–Sith.”

“Don’t look away from me when you say that. That you are proud of who you are? I understand and respect that. I love that part of you.”

“The part trained to kill. The part that did kill every confessor living, including your sister, and put you in the predicament of being the last.”

“The last for now.” Kahlan stressed.

“For now?” Cara asked, her eyes searching her face.

Kahlan stepped closer to Cara and looked into her eyes, conveying her sincerity and her love. She waited, until she saw understanding and then the glimmer of the same emotions in Cara’s eyes. “We will have a daughter. And she will have a daughter, and so on.”

“We?” Cara blinked at her.

“We.” Kahlan said firmly. “I am proud of you, and proud that you are Mord–Sith.” Her lips silenced Cara’s argument. She had heard them before; she did not need to hear them again, not at that moment.

* * * * *

She stumbled into the room, but refused to fall, and instead aimed for the far wall, and crashed against it, her chest heaving, lungs not pulling in enough air. Her hair was dripping, and Berdine could feel loose tendrils of hair from braid falling around her shoulders. Behind her the cell door closed, and once the eyes of the guards and other Mord–Sith were no longer on her, she allowed herself to fall into a heap on the floor, exhausted and still struggling for air.

Her muscles all jumped when she felt hands on her shoulders.

“It’s me.” Raina’s voice soothed and Berdine groaned, and leaned back against the smaller woman. “You are soaked to the skin.”

“The tank.” Berdine hissed. She hated the tank. Of all the asinine ways to torture someone the tank in her opinion was always the last resort, because it took neither finesse nor expertise to do to someone. Mord–Sith should pride themselves on their skills and their talent when it came to torture. To hang someone upside down and drop their head into a large tank of water? Any imbecile could accomplish that, and with the same results. In this case, none.

“Why would Triana use the tank? I know she is pretty much useless when it comes to the whip, but really?”

Berdine leaned her face into Raina’s neck, and even through the leather she could still smell the warmth of her skin, and it helped to focus her mind. “It was that wizard. Neville. He lacks any grace.”

“Yes. He does.” Raina’s voice was frigid, and Berdine forced herself to not think of anything in that moment that was not the smell of Raina’s skin, or the feel of her fingers on the back of her head. She would scream if she thought of anything else. “What did they want?”

“I am to read for Neville.”

“Read?”

“Yes.” Berdine groaned, sitting back and looking at Raina, seeing the fresh bruising on her cheek, hating it there. “Apparently a delivery came this morning, a trunk of books liberated from the libraries of the People’s Palace. As Darken is still a specter he finds it difficult to flip pages.” Berdine smirked.

“Ah, so when he told you to read for Neville you declined.”

“Of course.”

“And now?”

“Now I will be spending my evening reading to the dark hair idiot. Who could imagine? A hundred year old Wizard who doesn’t know how to read the simplest of ancient languages.”

“Not High D’Haran?”

“No. This book is written in the language of the Bandakar.”

“But… all Wizards should know that!” Raina rolled her eyes.

“Apparently Neville is from the Old World, and does not even know of the Bandakar Region, let alone the language or their specialties.”

“So a book of prophecies then?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t like this.” Raina said, her eyes darkening to the point of looking black.

“Nor I.”

“Why do they want you to read these books? Why does Darken Rahl want Cara here? None of this makes any sense. In the old days we would have been tortured and broken in a week and that would be that. Our loyalty would not be in question. But this? Seems a ruse of some sort. And I don’t like it. I also do not like that all the Mord–Sith here? Not one do I recognize, and all seem… in a haze.” Raina mused, her forehead furrowed.

Berdine reached for her, and pulled her closer, knowing the smaller Mord–Sith was probably not in the mood to be held, but also knowing that she would relent and allow Berdine a few moments of closeness, because in that moment, that was all she could comprehend.

“I don’t like it either.” Berdine said softly, before placing her lips to Raina’s forehead. Perhaps the tank had been more effective than she thought, because her mind felt jumbled. She could not seem to think beyond this moment, she seemed to care less and less about anything other than being in the moment, holding Raina tightly against her chest.

* * * * *

The armies of D’Hara and half of the Galean force would be following them to the east, but with their size and scope General Reibisch suggested that they travel south to the Kern River Valley and make their crossing there. It was with a mixture of pride and shame that the General admitted that under the order of Darken Rahl a large bridge had been erected over the river, to make crossing easier for the army. After moments of outrage and argument from Prince Harold, who finally calmed down and agreed that it was a sound plan. The smaller group would travel on foot through the mountains of the boundary between the Midlands and D’Hara. Kahlan, once deciding that leaving Aydindril was what she needed to do, did not want to wait. Though, she teased Cara about traveling during the rainy season, it really was nothing that they had not traveled through before, during the year they journeyed all across the Midlands with Richard in search of the Stone of Tears.

Perhaps the difference this time was the more solemn nature of the group and that it had tripled in size.

Entering the cave, Cara noticed it was surprisingly clean, and that everyone, Hally, Captain Ryan, the four guards, Shota and even Drefan looked dry and comfortable. Cara raised her brow. Orsk was the only one who still seemed wet, and he stood in the dark back of the cave, his arms crossed and his one eye glaring at everyone.

“Shota used magic.” Hally smiled up at her, as a way of explaining, from where she sat beside the fire, tending to the cooking pot.

“I see.” Cara grumbled, watching out of the corner of her eye as Kahlan stood over the fire, hands outstretched to warm.

“I could make you both dry.” Shota offered.

“You could. But I would rather you didn’t.” Cara snapped. The idea of magic drying her skin seemed appalling suddenly. While her leather was thick and heavy with the rain, she would prefer that to some quick magical fix. She was surprised Hally had allowed such a thing, but then again, Hally was never one to fear magic outright, she seemed too intrigued by the wonder of it. That and Cara was sure that some coaxing by Captain Ryan had come into play. Hally looked at the man as if he were her Lord Rahl. Which Cara understood. She knew she looked at Kahlan in a very similar way, even before she was in fact Lord Rahl.

“I am still surprised that you asked to accompany us.” Kahlan said to the Witch. “I would assume you would have been content to stay in Aydindril, or even return to your home.”

“Mother Confessor, in light of events, I thought you would understand. That you need someone with you who has the ability of magic. You are without a Wizard’s protection. I thought it only… logical that I accompany you.”

“How very magnanimous of you.” Kahlan said, sitting down beside Hally. Cara smirked as the small Mord–Sith moved slightly away from the water that was dripping off of Kahlan’s dark leather dress. “So magnanimous in fact that I do not believe you.”

“I have always wanted to see the People’s Palace.” Shota offered, running her hand over the white fur stole she wore.

“You didn’t like your stay there before.” Cara mumbled under her breath, before realizing it.

Shota’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “My? I have never been to the People’s Palace.”

“Cara?” Kahlan asked, and the sound of her name brought her mind back to the reality, that what Cara remembered from time to time had not in fact actually happened. Kahlan had not married Darken Rahl, she had not given birth to a male confessor.

“Oh… Alternative Reality… when… when I went forward in time with Richard.” She clarified.

“You have done that many times?” Shota asked.

“Just the once.” Cara said, poking at the flames of the fire with a stick. She willed her mind to push away the thoughts and feelings the memory of the future brought out in her. Of seeing the marble likeness of Kahlan atop her tomb. Of seeing the Mord–Sith temple in shambles, the bodies of her sisters lying about in abandoned decay.

“Well, in THIS reality, I have never been. And I look forward to seeing it.”

“Seeing it? Or feeling the magic.” Cara asked her eyes hard as she looked up at the Witch. There was something about her that Cara never trusted, and knew she never would. She talked but the truth was never in her words, it was hidden between them.

“Magic?” Kahlan asked.

“The People’s Palace was constructed in the shape of a power spell. This spell is meant to drain power from any of the gifted who are inside the Palace walls, while increasing the strength of Lord Rahl.” Cara shrugged.

“When I was there before… it did not seem to affect my magic at all.” Kahlan said.

Cara shuddered inwardly. She had heard the tale, from other Mord–Sith and from Kahlan herself. When Darken Rahl had Kahlan in his favorite torture room; when he had used Kahlan’s trusted Wizard Giller, to shove needles into her body. All in the failed attempt to steal from her the power of the Confessor.

“In fact, when I slipped into the Con Dar and it seemed to be stronger than it had ever been before.”

“Your magic is different Kahlan. What you possess? The gift of the Confessor? It is not like normal magic. It is a twining of very old magics, from three thousand years ago. You are a product of that magical union, and therefore, the spell of the People’s Palace will not affect you in the same way it affects me, or others, like Zeddicus. Cara is correct; the Palace is built in a specific way, to amplify the spell. A power spell was a web cast or drawn to increase one’s power with the gift. It also siphons the power of other gifted, leaving them far from their full strength.”

Kahlan asked. “And you want to experience this why?”

“I have my reasons.”

The flames in the fire sparked with agitation as Cara tossed a fresh log on them. “Speak the truth, Witch. You are interested in the unfinished spell.”

A hush fell over the cave. No one spoke for a moment. Shota’s eyes narrowed at Cara.

“What do you mean, Cara?” Kahlan asked.

“Shota? How old are you?” Cara asked.

“Does that matter?”

Cara smiled, but it was neither kind nor welcoming. It was the smile that personified the threat, that Cara’s question was to be answered, and would be answered.

“Ninety four.” The witch woman spat.

“Wow. You look well…rested.” Hally said absently, and then the small blonde snapped her fingers. “oh! I know this!”

Cara raised a brow to her.

“The time spell!” Hally said, smiling, very proud.

“Darken Rahl was working for years on an additional spell, to cast over the People’s Palace.” Cara said, standing and crossing her arms. She had an inkling as to why the Witch was so keen to go with them, and now her suspicions were confirmed. “Berdine explained it to me once.” Cara’s eyes were still on Shota. “The spell was almost completed, before Darken Rahl became side tracked with his obsession over Richard, and the boxes of Orden…. You are interested in the time spell.”

“Perhaps.” Shota said flatly.

“Time?”

“A spell that slows the passage of time. Much like the spell that is built into the Palace of the Prophets. And the one that Shota has created in the Agaden Reach.” Cara explained.

“I won’t deny my curiosity.”

“A spell to stop time.” Kahlan said softly.

“Yes. What more could a ruler want, that to reside in a Palace where they will never age and therefore never have to relinquish their rule?”

* * * * *

The moment the door opened Berdine’s eyes opened, but she did not move from her comfortable resting place. Her arm around Raina’s waist, her head nestled on her shoulders. She knew she should move, she knew she should rise up and stand over Raina growling at whoever it was that dared enter.

In the instant where she knew she should do these things, footsteps echoed on the stone floor, and then the warmth of the body beside hers was wrenched away.

“No.” She growled, sitting up, her finger tips moving across Raina’s chest and arm as the two guards pulled her away.

“Perhaps this will loosen your tongue.” Triana snapped from the door way.

Berdine looked at Raina, whose brown eyes conveyed her command. She was ordering Berdine to stay calm, to do nothing. To not give in. But Berdine could not abide that command.

“What ever you want. I will do. Just… please… do not hurt her.”

“Don’t hurt her?” Triana laughed. “You will get off the floor, and you will read the Wizard his silly little books and then you will do anything else the Wizard wants. Don’t hurt her. Seriously, Berdine? Of course we will hurt her. We’ll just… not kill her. How’s that?”

She rose to her full height and glared down at Triana. Berdine was not disappointed as the back of Triana’s armored gloved hand slammed into the side of her face. The strike helped to wake her muddled mind up. Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

Berdine didn’t need to say anything aloud, she was making promises silently. Of how she was going to rip Triana’s arms off.

* * * * *

The notion of standing watch was ridiculous, and she told Richard as much. What difference did it make if she was asleep or awake if someone decided that they would attack in the dead of night? If they attacked then they attacked. She doubted even if she were in the depths of sleep that anyone could best all of them. But still Richard had rambled on and on about how it was better to be prepared. He did not seem to be concerned with her logic that in all likelihood no one would attack and all they were doing was reducing the hours of rest each person would gain. Something about the twitch in the corner of his eyes made her relent her argument, and she offered to take the most difficult watch. The one between the first and the last. His eye stopped twitching then.

Nicci did not sleep before, she had been all to aware of the sound of Richard sitting beside the fire, carving something. The rasp of steel on wood was grating, was constant. It made her think. And Nicci had not wanted to think, certainly not about what her mind kept returning to. The fact that a mere twitch in the corner of Richard Rahl’s eye was enough to cause her to give in to him. Because if that fact were true? Then what Six had bragged about was also true. That Richard Rahl was her weakness.

Nicci had never known weakness, and she certainly did not appreciate having one now.

When Richard woke her he seemed startled when she rolled over, eyes wide awake. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and she looked at the clouds of thought that had rolled across his eyes. When she rose, he wished her a safe watch, and she meant to say the same nonsensical kindness back about having a safe rest, but instead she had asked what he had been carving.

Richard had replied that it was nothing really, and from where he lay on his bed roll he had tossed it to her. She was looking at it now, as she sat beside the fire.

What he referred to nothing really was in fact something. Definitely something. This was a small carving of a bird. But not some masculine bird such as a hawk or eagle. It was a crow. Just a simple crow. And it was implicitly detailed. Something tiny enough to fit in the palm of Nicci’s hand, and yet she could see each line of feathers. While made of wood she was almost certain it could take flight. There was no possible way someone without the gift could have carved something so intricate.

It fascinated her.

It bothered her.

She tossed the carving into the fire before her, just to see it burn.

It did burn. A dark green. The flames rose into the night air, reds and oranges tinted by the familiar green. Nicci closed her eyes in annoyance.

“Darken Rahl. I told you and your Master, I bow to no one.”

“Ah, Nicci, that is no longer true.”

She opened her eyes and looked at the immaterial form of Darken Rahl standing amid the flames.

“From what I understand you bowed willingly to my successor.”

“Hardly.”

“My Master, he will have you in time, and is no longer worried about that. No what he, and I, are concerned with is what we are hearing from the land of the living. It seems as though someone is meddling with power they do not understand.”

“It does not concern you.” Nicci said, her eyes moving to the sleeping form of Richard in the shadows. He seemed to be at peace and asleep. Nicci wondered if she too were in fact asleep, if this was merely an odd dream.

“Oh you are very wrong Nicci. It does concern me. As it concerns you… I know you are very knowledgeable in prophesies… read any good ones lately?”

“What are you getting at, Darken?”

“I have heard the most interesting prophecy. Set my heart a twitter even. If I had a heart.” He crossed his arms. “ ‘The one bonded to the blade will watch helplessly as his actions force the one in white to take sides. The one in white will betray the one in red, forcing her to choose life; and they will fight. In life there will stand a monument to a ruined age. With the aid of the dark shall come the light, and all life will be redefined. From death will be borne a revival, the one in white will quench the inferno and will fill a shallow grave.’ “ He tapped his finger to his lips. “Now I wonder…. The one in white and the one in red? Could this be our hapless Mother Confessor and her Mord–Sith? We all know the blundering of my brother set this all in motion. What say you Nicci?”

“What does a prophesy matter? Especially to you, as you are dead.”

“Have you ever died before, Nicci? I have. More than once. And I must say, death seems to lack the permanence one normally fears. The question should be, have you chosen your side? The war that is coming? It pleases my Master, as it will give him a new vitality, in the amount of souls.”

“I still do not care.”

“But you should. Oh, Nicci, you should. Because you play a vital role in this.” He smiled kindly at her, but she could see the dark green flames in his eyes. “You will need to decide your side. And soon.”

“Should I assume you have chosen yours?”

“Of course! I choose life.”

“How strangely obvious. You choose what you do not have.”

“But I will. Nicci, I am aware of the plague that rises from the south, and I am comforted knowing you are there, helping my brother to defeat it, but you and I both know that it will take so much more than determination and stubbornness to defeat an army of that size, not to mentioned thwarting a maniacal sorceress bent on domination.”

“You know of Six then.”

“I am in the Underworld, Nicci, at the hand of the Keeper himself. Of course I KNOW!” His face contorted with the rage that he allowed to show. “What she is planning? It cannot come to pass, and I will do everything in my power to stop her.”

While her personal knowledge of Darken Rahl was mostly second hand, Nicci knew enough that whatever altruism he was portraying was false. He would only be motivated by something that would in the end provide him personal gain.

“You wish to return to the land of the living. How does your Master feel about that?”

“He understands that sometimes things are necessary.”

“You have a body.” Nicci thought for a moment. “And I assume you have Mord–Sith. But do you have someone who can summon your soul into that new body?”

“It is a little more complicated than that.”

“A simple Wizard or sorceress could attempt it. Attempt. Not succeed.” She stressed.

“I have all I need to become flesh, but I need more. You see. What good would it do me to return to the living without my powers? Without… being Lord Rahl.”

“If you returned, you would have to devote yourself or you would fall prey to the Dream Walker.”

“Indeed.”

“Then devote yourself to Drefan Rahl.”

“To that bastard.” He snapped.

Nicci smiled, and held her tongue.

“Nicci… I know that the bastard is not the true Lord Rahl. Just as I know that the Mother Confessor is the ultimate prize in this battle.”

Nicci’s smile faded. “If you know everything then why are you here, annoying me?”

“This world is the world I know, the world where I can and will be Lord Rahl again, with or without your help. I refuse to allow some witch of lowly birth to attempt to facilitate her delusions of grandeur. She seeks to break down the walls of our worlds. She covets power. And if she controls the Mother Confessor she will have such power. She could sail the oceans… Nicci, do you know what lays on the other side of the oceans?”

The color fell from her face. She knew it did and she knew there was no point in hiding it. “I do.”

“If Six gains control of the Mother Confessor? All magic will cease. And our world will be no more. It will not fall into the hands of the Keeper… it will fall to those of the outside.”

Part 17

In her sleep she had extended her hand, expecting to find the comfort of a body beside her. When her hand felt nothing, sleep thinned and her eyes had fluttered open. In the low light from the fire at the mouth of the cave, Kahlan could see the two of the guards standing alert looking out into the night. Faintly she could hear softly falling rain. Her hand was on the wool blanket, and Cara was not beside her, where she had been when they had fallen asleep together. Quietly she turned her head, searching. Cara was sitting further back in the cave, away from the others, the journey book on her lap.

Slowly, she rose up and then Kahlan walked through the sleeping bodies, to stand beside her, and taking the chance that Cara would allow a certain touch; she ran her fingers through her now dry hair. Through the touch she could feel Cara offer a relaxed sigh.

“No word?”

“No.” Cara replied, before looking up at Kahlan, her eyes searching through the dark. “We are close enough to the north… I was wondering… perhaps I should.”

Kahlan kneeled beside her, and set her hands on Cara’s thigh. “If you want us to go to the Mord–Sith temple? We will go. Tomorrow. We will change our course.”

“We would not meet up with the army in time.” Cara argued.

“Cara. This is Berdine and Raina. If you think that they are truly in trouble? Then we will go and help them. They are… family.” Kahlan offered, squeezing Cara’s thigh. “There is no question.” She watched as Cara nodded her head slowly, her eyes still distant.

“Another day. I will give them one more day and then we will decide?”She looked up, through the shadows searching Kahlan’s face, looking for a confirmation that her idea was a good one.

“All right.” Kahlan smiled gently. “Come to sleep?”

“You go ahead. I will soon enough.” Her face was still pensive.

Kahlan knew she would not rest until Cara was beside her, nevertheless she whispered, “I will be right there, waiting for you.”

* * * * *

“Richard, wake up.”

“What is it?” He reached for his sword as his eyes blinked away sleep.

“I am leaving.” Nicci said simply. She was not sure why she had felt the need to wake him. There seemed to be that small part of her that she did not understand that had propelled her to stand beside the sleeping man, and as she looked down at him, his face relaxed in sleep, his eyes open to the stars; Richard was not the same selfish boy he had been. He was aware of seemingly everything, and even had taken to sleeping with his eyes open; as all Wizards do. She felt the need to tell him that she was leaving. The more she thought about it now, the more she realized that her motivation was less in telling him that she was leaving, and more in that she wanted to hear his voice once more before she did leave.

Weakness indeed.

“What?” He sat up wiping his hands over his face. “What are you talking about?”

“I think that I was clear. I am leaving. You need to continue north, to Aydindril and to the Mother Confessor.”

“I am confused.”

“Of course you are.” She turned and walked away, clasping her hands before her. Waking him had been a mistake.

“Nicci! Wait.” He called as he followed. His feet crushed leaves as he moved through the camp behind her. “Why are you suddenly leaving?”

“There is a good chance the Mother Confessor is no longer in Aydindril, it makes sense that we split up. I will travel along the Kern River into D’Hara and on to the People’s Palace.” She answered, avoiding his question as best she could. She knew that lying to the Seeker was not something easily done, and so she did not even bother. She told him the truth. It was the omittance of her conversation with Darken Rahl that tickled the back of her eyes. She was not lying, she told herself again, by not telling Richard of the visit. Nor the prophesy. Nicci knew that if she mentioned it he would focus merely on the threat to the Mother Confessor. It would consume him. And in that consumption she was positive that he would miss the point. That it was by his actions that the dye had been cast, that by his selfish will he had made the current reality as it was. He was the one who had shattered the barrier between the Old World and the New. He had forced the Mother Confessor to marry his brother, Drefan Rahl, regardless of the consequences. He would again act in the same bullheaded and stubborn manner. He would move forward, forgetting that the true threat was Six and the Imperial Order.

“Then, so will we.”

She made her blue eyes as hard as she could. “No.”

“You can’t just leave.”

“Richard Rahl. Are you the same man who was adamant that you did not want me to travel with you? When I appeared a few weeks ago, was it not you who would rather chew nails than have me with you. And now? Now that I tell you that I am leaving you are arguing with me?”

“Well… I changed my mind. I can do that, can’t I?”

“You can. It makes no sense, but you can.”

“Explain it to me, why you suddenly want to leave.” His voice was bordering between a command and a request. The hand he placed on her arm moved his tone more into the command category.

“The reason should not matter.” Nicci replied in a monotone.

“It matters to me. I don’t like the idea of you running off in the middle of the night.”

“Oh? Afraid I can’t look after myself, Richard?”

He laughed, but did not take his hand from around her arm. “On the contrary, if there is one woman in all of the Midlands who can take care of herself? That woman is you, Nicci.” His eyes smiled at her, and she was positively certain he did not even realize what he had just said. He had, in essence placed a value of importance on her that was higher than the one he had been placing on the Mother Confessor for all this time. For the month they had been traveling together, he seemed to not only evolve with his magical gifts, but his heart as well.

She was not sure how she felt about that.

Or, her mind was not sure how she felt about that.

Her heart knew for sure how it felt, as she stepped up against him, and pressed her lips to his.

She felt him tense.

But only for a moment, before Nicci went limp in his strong embrace, and he returned her kiss fiercely.

* * * * *

The rain had stopped during the course of the night, though with its intensity the mountain trail they were using to make the crossing over the Boundary Mountains into D’Hara had become a long procession of mud, which made for slow traveling. The sun was at its highest point when it was decided that they would stop for a short rest. Cara, though annoyed with the delay, noticed that some of her traveling partners seemed in need of a few moments rest after slogging through ankle deep mud all morning.

Kahlan’s nameless guards fanned out in the surrounding trees, to keep watch. Kahlan was going on at length with Hally, who had finally relented and removed both the leather collar and corset, about some sort of spring festival that they would all be missing out on now that they were no longer in Aydindril. Kahlan’s tone was more conversational than anything else, and if Cara knew her as well as she thought she did, the Mother Confessor was getting ready to start asking questions of Hally. Probably about the nature of celebrations that took place in the People’s Palace. She would be in for somewhat of a surprise in that regard. Nearly all of the festivals and celebrations that did take place in the People’s Palace were all in honor of the Lord Rahl. And with there not having been a seated Lord Rahl in the Palace since Darken Rahl’s death, Cara was fairly certain that there were no such celebrations being planned, solstice or no.

She crossed her arms as she walked away from Hally and Kahlan, considering. Kahlan liked celebrations. She was the Lord Rahl. Perhaps if Cara could think of something.

Her thoughts swiftly ended there; as she noticed that Shota was kneeling beside the small stream. The Witch held a large metallic looking bowl in her hands, which she used to catch some of the water from the stream. That did not interest Cara, what had caught her eye was the striking blue green mist and the tingling alarm of magic that was over the bowl and the water within. She walked to the Witch and looked over her shoulder. All she could see were swirling tendrils of smoke over water as still as a pane of glass. What the Witch saw was anyone’s guess. But she was using magic. Cara could feel it.

Shota focused her gaze on the bowl in her hands intently, before her shoulders dipped, and shaking her head she moved her fingers through the water in a circular motion. The smoke dissipated as though it had never been there.

“Cara.” Shota sighed.

“Witch.” She sneered back.

“I wonder, did Kahlan ever tell you what the Seer, Jebra, foretold when she touched you?”

Kahlan’s voice was hard, as she suddenly appeared beside Cara. “I do not think that is any of your concern.”

“So, no then?”

Cara rolled her eyes in response to Shota’s snide tone.

“What would it matter? If I told Cara or not?” Kahlan asked.

“Well, the visions I keep having seem to be similar to the one Jebra spoke with me about. And that leaves me wondering.”

“Similar how?” Kahlan pressed. And the way she pressed the Witch suddenly peeked Cara’s interest.

“Cara kills you.”

“I do not!” Cara snapped, her expression reflecting shock, before she could control it.

“You do.” Shota stressed.

“Your visions are wrong.” Cara growled, stepping closer to the Witch, wanting to remove the satisfied smirk from her face, preferably with the sole of her boot. “Perhaps your magic water is tainted.”

“To kill? In a vision is not always literal.” Shota stood and wiped her hands together. “It could mean a myriad of things, really.”

“Then why bother asking? Why bring it up at all?” Cara snapped, wondering not for the first and probably not the last, why the Witch was accompanying them.

“I was … curious.” Shota smiled.

“You seem to be that a lot lately.” Kahlan said, her eyes narrowing on Shota, who shrugged before turning and walking back to the others.

* * * * *

“Perhaps we brought along the wrong wielder of magic.” Cara said her voice still slightly strained.

Kahlan watched as Shota moved back to the group and slipped her bowl into the large pack that Orsk was carrying for her. The Witch Woman looked over her shoulder at the two of them, the smug look of satisfaction still on her lips. She was certainly up to something. This was exactly why Kahlan wanted to keep her close; to keep an eye on her. She turned back to Cara, whose arms were crossed and her eyes looking down at the small stream. “Who? Oh. You mean the Seer?”

“Of course. Who else would I mean?”

“Jebra is better served staying with Queen Cyrilla in Aydindril.”

“Served? Is she a roast.”

Kahlan laughed. “No.”

“Then say the truth, you asked her to come and she refused. Because of me.” Cara’s arms dropped and her face scrunched for a moment with the hint of distain, and possibly something more.

“Because of you?”

“Whatever her vision was.” Her blue green eyes rolled.

“Cara.” Kahlan sighed, understanding now some of Cara’s agitation. She stepped closer to the Mord–Sith and set her hand on her forearm gently. “I listened to Jebra’s vision, as I listened to Shota’s. That does not mean I believe in them, that they consume my thoughts,”

“Perhaps they should. Two of them having the same vision?” Cara’s expression, try as she might to hide it, was colored with concern.

“Or the two of them happen to describe what they saw in their visions in the same manner.” Kahlan said softly.

“I will not kill you.” Cara said firmly.

“Does it really matter?” She asked softly. If there was any choice in life as to whose hand she were to die by it would be Cara’s. Not that she coveted death, but in knowing that her final moments would be with the blonde made the thought bearable.

“Of course it does!” Cara snapped and stepped away from her touch.

Kahlan took in a lungful of air, and waited for a moment, waited and watched Cara’s shoulders as they stayed tightly lifted. “What is truly bothering you?” She asked. Prophesy, no matter how clear, was something that Cara did not put her belief in. It was not something that she would have taken at face value. For her to even be bothered by these visions was not like her.

The mumbled reply was, “Nothing.”

“Cara.”

“Nothing!” This time she spun around and glared at Kahlan.

This only granted her a hard look of stubbornness, telegraphing Kahlan’s very real intent to continue to ask and poke and prod until Cara told her exactly what it was that was bothering her.

“Fine.” Cara sighed, her shoulders dropping. She stepped back to Kahlan, close enough that she could smell warm leather and skin, and could feel the faintest touch of Cara’s breasts on her arm. She whispered, privately. “I am concerned.”

“About?”

“Everything.” Cara sighed.

“Everything?” Kahlan asked incredulously.

“Yes?”

Kahlan sucked her teeth in disbelief, her eyes narrowing. “I highly doubt you, Cara, are concerned about everything.”

“Well.” The word was drawn out, and as Cara did so Kahlan watched her face, watched how her eyes seemed to look over Kahlan’s shoulder, how her body seemed pulled as tight as her favored bow. Perhaps everything was an accurate statement. There were so many things that were going on around them, things that they were responsible for, and things that would affect them with or without their input. From how they would be received at the People’s Palace, to the threat coming from the south, the Dream Walker, and Berdine and Raina’s silence. Yes. Perhaps Cara was right. She was concerned, about everything. And it would continue to weight her shoulders and consume her thoughts until this everything grew and became insurmountable and then it would either topple Cara or worse, it would cloud her mind when she may need to be clear headed.

Kahlan knew her mate. And she knew how to clear away some of the weight from her shoulders.

“Come.”

“What? Where?”

“I smell water.” Kahlan said in way of explanation.

“We are standing next to a stream.”

Kahlan rolled her eyes just to the side, to look at Cara defiantly. “Must you argue?”

“I am stating facts.”

“Fine. Other water. Back that way.” Kahlan motioned over her shoulder.

“And?”

“You and I need to talk.”

“We ARE talking.”

“Not that sort of talking.”

“What? Did you hit your head or something Kahlan? Talking?” Kahlan slipped her hand around Cara’s waist, and tightened her fingers, while she looked pointedly at the blonde. “But. Oh!” Cara said swiftly, seeing the look on Kahlan’s face, and feeling as the hand moved from her waist to her backside where Kahlan grabbed a palm full of flesh. “Do we have time for this talk?” Cara asked, her voice dropping into a hoarse whisper.

“We will make time, because you clearly need a good and thorough talking to.”

* * * * *

Miraculously she had been right, there was water; a very small waterfall, but it did flow over the rocks in a soothing way. What was more soothing to Cara and her mind that would not stop spinning in circles were Kahlan’s fingers in her hair, moving along her scalp. They soothed, and they inflamed in equal measure. Her fingers would press harder as Cara pushed her back against the sturdy Fir tree, her lips and tongue moving down the length of Kahlan’s neck, to the rise of her breasts. She felt like she was drowning suddenly, just breathing in the warm scent of Kahlan’s skin, hearing her own heart beat thundering in her ears. Knowing there was no time, and they could only have a moment made her lips pull back in a sneer and her teeth dig down against the soft flesh there. Kahlan released a sharp whimper, and urged Cara to increase the pressure.

“How?”

“How?” Cara asked in a mumbled reply, her lips moving back up Kahlan’s neck, her hands grasping at her hips, feeling the strong bones and muscles beneath her hands. She was heady, the sound of Kahlan’s heart beating, the way she breathed, the rhythm of the water falling over the rocks behind them, the birds singing wildly in the trees around them.

“How did I ever live, truly live, before loving you?”

Cara leaned back slightly, her lips leaving Kahlan’s neck. “You want to talk? Now?”

Kahlan’s eyes opened widely, searching Cara’s face, as she moved her gloved hands up Kahlan’s hips, across her stomach to her breasts, which she held, through the thick leather corset. “I… no. NO. No talking. Kiss me?”

She smiled as she replied. “Always.” Her lips finding Kahlan’s who kissed her with such vigor that she knew they were both feeling the same thing; the heat and the desire, the ache that needed to be fulfilled.

* * * * *

The sound of an iron reinforced oak door slamming into be speckled granite had a certain sound, a deep vibration to it that moved through the wall, down through the stone of the floor, and into her bones. Berdine was leaning against the far wall, her eyes had been closed, and she had been inside of her mind, focusing solely on Raina and her voice. Her brunette lover had been whispering to her, telling her stories of her youth.

Berdine was well aware that listening to voices in one’s head was a sure sign of madness.

When it came to her hearing Raina’s voice? She welcomed it if it was madness. Because that sort of madness was the only thing keeping her sane in the hours that turned to days that became weeks. Or so she assumed. She could no longer gauge time. For her time was one of two things. Either she was in her mind, with Raina, or she was hanging from the chains.

Mord–Sith were taught to destroy hope.

Berdine was an expert at cultivating and protecting it.

Her blue eyes blinked, and she watched Triana stomp into the room, disrupting her time in her memories.

“You’ll never guess what the scouts found today.” Triana said, and then threw the journey book down on the floor in front of her.

Her eyebrows rose, but Berdine did not bother to speak.

“I think that this is how you were communicating with Cara. I want you to write to her. I want you to tell her all about everything that is going on here.”

“And why would I do that?” Berdine asked, wanting to grimace at the coarse sound of her voice. To her own ears she did not sound like herself.

“If you do, I will have Raina brought back to your room.”

“My cell.”

“Whatever.” Triana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, staring down at Berdine. The look on her face begged to be smacked off. If her arms were not chained to the wall behind her she would have done just that.

“Why do you want Cara to come here? Why does Darken keep asking if she is here yet?”

“Lord Rahl,” Triana stressed, “has plans. Plans that apparently involve Cara. I am merely following the orders as set before me by him.”

“He is dead. A spirit. He holds no power over you, he does not command you. So why would you do this? Why would you turn your back on the true Lord Rahl, and why would you do the bidding of a dead man.”

“He will be made flesh. And when he is, he will personally destroy each and every one of you who betrayed him.”

“For all that I have done? I never betrayed Darken Rahl. I should have. I should have killed him a thousand times over for the things he had done. But I never did. I obeyed him, as was my place to do so. As I obey the current Lord Rahl.” Berdine narrowed her eyes, glaring up at Triana. “You have never been all together there, in the head. This is something else for you. What? Did he promise you something? Power? Glory?”

“Release.” She said softly.

“Release?” Berdine echoed.

“He promised to release me, from being Mord–Sith. He says if Cara comes and does as has been foretold? That we will all be released.”

Berdine shook her head. “Mord–Sith cannot be released. We are made, we live and then we die.”

* * * * *

Cara pressed her hands into the warm supple earth over Kahlan’s head, as her thigh ground diligently against Kahlan’s sex. Kahlan was writhing under her, not caring about anything anymore beyond the feeling of the thigh pressing into her. Their movements were lifting the scent of wet earth and fresh leaves into the air around them.

“Spirits, why did we not do this when we were traveling before?” Kahlan groaned, her hips trying to match Cara’s quick and impatient rhythm.

“Wanted to.” Cara confirmed breathlessly.

“After every battle.” Kahlan added, before lifting her neck and affixing her mouth to Cara’s neck. “Let me touch you.”

“No time.”

“Make time.”

“Can’t.” Cara moaned. “Already… there.” She whimpered, and Kahlan could feel the muscles in Cara’s body become rigid, as she reached the pinnacle of her release.

It always aroused Kahlan, that Cara could reach the edge of bliss merely by touching her. As she was now, Kahlan’s own thigh was not truly pressed against Cara’s center and still the Mord–Sith’s face was flush, her eyes sparkling with that amazing hue of desire.

“Oh Kahlan. Please.” She growled, and Kahlan embraced her own release, which was pulsing in time with Cara, and she felt the thigh against her center tremble and it sent her into the blissful darkness of climax. Cara pressed urgently and Kahlan felt the explosion of need through her core, shattering her heart and stealing her breath.

Cara moved against her once more, before dropping down onto Kahlan’s chest, her face pressed to her neck, the dampness of her skin and the smell of their combined excitement with the leather and the warm wet earth making Kahlan moan in pleasure. If only there was more time. She wanted nothing more than to strip Cara naked and worship her entire body properly.

“Mmmm. So good.” Cara moaned, her voice muffled as she kissed Kahlan’s neck with an open mouth.

“Not enough.” Kahlan lamented.

“No.” Cara sighed. “But.” Cara leaned up and kissed her lips tenderly. “still…good.”

Kahlan licked her lips tasting Cara on them, and leaned into her, wanting to kiss her again. But Cara’s lips were beyond her reach. Pouting she opened her eyes, and looked to see Cara’s face a hard mask of indifference and caution, her eyes looking into the distance.

“Kahlan, there is a wolf staring at me.”

“No there isn’t.”

“Oh? Look.” Cara motioned with her chin. Kahlan arched her neck and looked. Sure enough, in the thick of the trees and brush were two bright yellow eyes. “See. Wolf. Staring.” Cara proved.

Cara rose off of her slowly, and Kahlan stood, keeping her eyes on the strange sight. A massive beast, with bright, hard and very staring eyes. It growled and took a step towards them, completely uncharacteristic for a wolf. Cara pulled her Agiels and stepped between the two.

“She was right, Mistress, I was staring.” It growled.

Cara’s face dropped. “It talked?”

* * * * *

“Brophy!” Kahlan exclaimed, and moved to her knees, as the massive wolf slunk out of the underbrush. His bright yellow eyes flashed at Cara and a low growl came from his barrel chest.

“She smells of you.”

“As she should.” Kahlan said, and taped the end of his black nose, causing the massive animal to look up at her again. “She is my mate.”

“Mate?” He laughed, and Cara thought it was the strangest sound. A wolf laughing.

“Did I hit my head?” She sighed, and knew her voice was rising in pitch as she said, “You are talking to a wolf!”

“Your head is fine, Cara. This is… Brophy.”

“And that answers all of my questions.” Cara snapped.

Kahlan smiled, softly, indulgently at Cara. Her fingers moved through the dark charcoal fur that covered the massive beast. “Brophy was confessed by me.”

“You can confess animals?”

He growled, shorter this time. “I was once a man.”

“She knows that. She is being…stubborn.” Kahlan smiled, turning to look up at Cara.

“Harrumph.” Cara put her Agiels away, and stared still stunned as Kahlan was kneeling beside the largest, darkest wolf she had ever seen, her hands moving over his coat as if he were the kind family pet. Merely the vision of Kahlan doing that was shocking enough to make the fact that this animal was talking seem not as important.

“I was accused of murdering a young boy.”

She pursed her lips and asked. “Did you do it?”

“Cara!” Kahlan chastised, as she stood and gave her a hard glare. Cara merely smirked back.

“No. I did many a disreputable thing in my life; admittedly I was selfish and thought only of myself most days. But I would never harm a child. And as the sentence of death was placed on my head, I requested Confession. To prove my innocence.”

Kahlan nodded.

“Then you became a dog.”

“Wolf! I am a wolf.” He growled, before laying down, crossing his front paws, and setting his chin down. “The Mother Confessor came, and after my confession, my innocence was proven. That I had been wrongly accused by the actual killer. While everyone knew I was innocent… I was confessed, and therefore my life was no longer my own.”

“A deal was made. My Wizard at the time, Giller? He turned Brophy into a wolf, in the hopes that it would allow him to have some semblance of his own life.” Kahlan said softly, and Cara well knew that Kahlan’s heart held little slivers of guilt for each and every person that she confessed, especially those who were innocent of whatever crimes had been laid at their feet.

“So you are no longer confessed?”

“Oh. No. I am. But… the power of the confession, my dedication to the Mother Confessor, is not as strong as it was when I was human. I have managed to find my way. To make a life for myself.” His head lifted, and it looked as though he smiled. “I found a mate. And we have had a litter. Six rambunctious little cubs.”

“Oh, Brophy that is wonderful news.” Kahlan smiled at him. “Why are you so far from the Rang’Shada Mountains?”

“The forests there, while my home, are busy this time of year. With travelers and hunters. One such group of travelers talked at length over their fires one night when I was observing them. They talked at length of you, Mother Confessor, and how you were no longer fit to rule the Midlands.”

“Well…. That seems to be the consensus lately.” Kahlan said.

“Idiots. They all were. And normally I pay idiots no mind. Until they began talking of plans to ensure you were no longer ruling the Midlands.” His yellow eyes flashed in anger. “They spoke of Tobias Brogan, the Lord General of the Blood of the Fold, and his plans to remove you permanently.”

“General Brogan and I have had a few discussions. But I do not fear him. Let him wallow in his own ignorance.”

“I would agree with you… but, Mother Confessor? They are following you now.”

Cara felt her eyes narrowing.

“I set out to find you, and a few days ago I picked up your scent. It was then I crossed the path of a small unit of the Fold. General Brogan is with them, and they are now a half day behind you.”

“I see.” Kahlan said evenly. “Well, Cara and I were both just discussing this morning that it seemed to quiet. Perhaps a little diversion would do us all some good.”

“Those men, the things they have said they will do to you, Mother Confessor.”

“Don’t worry, Brophy. I am not some wilting flower.”

“They have magic.”

Kahlan smiled. “And I have Cara.”

“While I can appreciate her… appeal. An attractive woman in leather does not best magic.” His yellow eyes moved over her in a way that she would normally lift her chin with pride, being under the appreciative look of a wolf merely made her skin crawl.

“I am Mord–Sith.”

“And I am a wolf.”

Cara rolled her eyes.

“Mord–Sith… can deflect and absorb magic.” Kahlan began to explain. “Plus, Shota is here.”

His fur literally bristled. “Her.” He growled.

“We can handle her, don’t worry.” Kahlan soothed. “How many of these men are there?”

“Twenty, Mistress.”

“Twenty.” Kahlan repeated, looking at Cara.

“Oh, now that is just insulting.” Cara grinned mischievously.

* * * * *

Shota agreed to stay at camp with Drefan, and Kahlan decided that Hally and Captain Ryan would be just the sort of company she needed.

“I do not require the watchful eye of a Mord–Sith.” Shota said, attempting to look down her nose at Hally, who was more concerned with crossing her arms and pouting defiantly because she was not going to be able to enjoy a battle, than any look or comment from the Witch Woman.

“Yes, well, just in case you have any notions of killing Drefan, or running off with him, they will make sure to change your mind.” Kahlan said, checking her daggers.

“Kahlan I have given my devotion. My vow.” Shota stressed.

“Mm. Doesn’t mean much; not when you say it.” Cara said off handedly as she checked the arrows in her quiver.

The Witch grumbled out, “Fine.” And then turned away. Cara could not help her smile; she gained a slight sense of pleasure at upsetting the Witch.

“I’m not happy about you going into battle without all of your resources.” Captain Ryan complained.

“You may know about battle tactics,” Kahlan said as she pulled the sword from its sheath on her back, checking the clearance, before slamming it back down. “But we know about killing people. This is not a battle, Captain, this is killing people.”

Cara looked up, and grinned, knowing and appreciating when she saw that Kahlan was returning it.

* * * * *

Cara smiled, watching as the sun made its way through the trees to the men, and sparkled off of their polished breast plates, and the soft wind caught their long red capes. They were idiotically matching in formation down the narrow trail. The Lord General was walking in the lead, his second in command by his side as they spoke, and the line of soldiers was behind them, seventeen in all. Which meant their scouts were in the surrounding woods. Not that it would matter. Not with Kahlan moving in behind them, and the others swarming in from the sides. Her arm was poised, the arrow ready as she looked down the straight length of it, beyond the metal piercing tip, to the bouncing pompous red feathers in the Lord General’s helmet. She could easily send the arrow through the air and have it land squarely between his arrogant eyes. An instant death.

Cara was not one to give an instant death, certainly not to someone who did not deserve such an honor. She moved her aim to the left, and released the arrow. She already had another notched and ready as the point found its target and went cleanly through the throat of the second in command. As the second arrow was released, taking out the man to the other side of the Lord High General, the shouting erupted, as did the familiar symphony of steel crashing against steel.

* * * * *

Kahlan and two of her guards were crouched in the thick underbrush, and watched as the Blood of the Fold marched past. Trailing behind were their three pack horses carrying their supplies. Not a very smart move on their part, to leave such valuable items unprotected, but Kahlan was sure that these men and their leader were comfortable in thinking they not only had the upper hand, but that there was no reason for them to be concerned by a mere woman. They would learn the error of their narrow minded beliefs soon enough.

“Brophy.” She said softly to the wolf beside her.

“I will see to the horses.” He replied, needing no further direction.

“Mistress let us kill these men for you?” One of the guards, the ginger haired one with the hard face asked.

“You will. Kill each and everyone one.”

“With pleasure.” He grinned in a very off putting manner.

She looked back to the men marching in the mud, and saw before she heard the first man fall. As Cara’s arrow found the second she leapt to her feet and rushed forward.

The dark grey blur moved past her affectively to attack and frightened off the horses, the men holding the reins were left looking confused, which was fine. Let them be and then die confused Kahlan thought, pulling the sword from her back, her fingers perfectly fitting on the red leather. She moved quickly and low, slashing across the first man’s thighs. Not an instant death and certainly not a maneuver one used in battle. But as she told Captain Ryan, this was not a battle. This was killing. And that soldier would bleed out very soon.

The call to arms filled the forest as Kahlan turned, and her sword met the protective block of the next soldier. Before she considered her next move, his mouth opened, as a tip of a sword protruded from his chest. Over his shoulder the ginger haired guard grimaced, and pulled his sword free. She focused her attention on the sword swinging towards her head from beside her, stopping it with her own, and she bent, pulled a dagger from her boot and as she rose back up slammed it into the man’s lower torso.

An axe came down against his head, cleaving it in two like an overripe melon, but Orsk just swung the blade lose and kept moving through the men, hacking his way.

A groan caught her attention and she watched as one of her Elite Guards toppled to the ground. He no longer warranted her gaze, and she moved through the growing confusion of men, her sword swing, finding its mark each time.

“Keeper’s Whore!” Lord General Brogan’s voice rose above the fighting.

Kahlan kicked a surging soldier in the head, and he dropped to his knees, to merely feel the bite of her blade through his throat.

These men were being dispatched quickly and easily.

The scream of an Agiel caught Kahlan’s ear, and she looked to see as Cara blocked a swinging sword with them, before reaching towards the man, Agiel pressed to his chest before with a sure turn of her wrist the man’s heart stopped, and he fell. Dead.

“Cara! Leave one alive.” Kahlan called out to her.

“You are no fun.” Cara yelled back, as she spun around and backhanded the soldiers she was fighting. Kahlan began to smile, her focus waning slightly, and Cara seemed to notice it, and froze. “Kahlan! Behind you!” Cara yelled and began moving forward, and took her eyes off of the two soldiers she was fighting. Kahlan watched in horror, as time slowed, and the sword in the hand of the man to Cara’s left dropped towards the back of her neck.

Kahlan felt the rage and wrath bubbling inside of her; either the Mord–Sith or the Confessor, it did not matter. She only knew rage. The distance was far, perhaps too far, but that did not stop her from throwing her dagger at the man and screaming for Cara.

The dagger’s blade was true and punctured his neck, but the momentum of his sword and arm was already there, and it crashed down on the back of Cara’s head.

Kahlan watched as Cara’s knees bent and she feel to the ground, her eyes wide.

Kahlan screamed again, and subconsciously slammed her sword deep into the chest of the man beside her, before pulling it free and running across the mud to Cara, her sword slicing at any and everyone near her.

Brophy appeared, jumping over Cara’s body, his hackles raised and his teeth bared in a sneer as he kept Lord General Brogan from coming close to Cara.

It was all that Kahlan needed, to move swiftly beyond his vision and ram her sword deep into his side, slipping between chain mail and the polished steal breast plate.

“She is alive Mistress. I will watch over her.” Brophy growled.

Kahlan nodded, and as she pulled her sword from the Lord General she sneered at him. “Say hello to the Keeper.” She stabbed him again, this time in his lower abdomen. He would die, and soon. He knew it, his eyes reflecting in the shock of it all. Four heart beats ago he thought he had been winning. In two more he would be dead.

Sliding to a halt, Kahlan dropped to her knees, reaching for Cara. Her breathing was strong, her face soft as if she were sleeping. It was the blood that blossomed from her head that was the concern. Kahlan pulled her on her lap.

“Please.” She mumbled, her heart thundering in her chest. Cara did not move. She ran her fingers through Cara’s hair, through the matted strands and the blood, and found the knot on the back of her head. It didn’t feel too bad, just a lucky shot. Kahlan felt her body sigh.

She looked up, as a quiet settled around her. The muddy path was littered with bodies. Two of her Elite Guards were among the dead.

“Orsk gather their heads.”

“As you command, Mistress.” The giant grumbled, and swing his bloody axe as he walked away.

She sat, watching Cara’s chest rise and fall with sleep. Kahlan knew she would be alright, that the injuries were minor compared to all she had suffered in the past. But still, the moment she watched her fall to the ground her heart had stopped. In that instant the finality of death overwhelmed her and there was no air in the world, for her lungs pulled and received none. Everything and everyone disappeared in a thick cloak of black, and all she could see was Cara as her knees bent and her body fell to the earth.

A soft head nudged her hand, and she smiled lightly, turning away from Cara and stroking Brophy’s forehead.

“She will be fine. A hard head she has.”

“You don’t even know the half of it.” Kahlan agreed. “Thank you, for your assistance.”

“My loyalty and commitment to you will never waver. No matter my form, Mistress.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Brophy, I am sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I… How can I not? I took your life from you.”

“Ah, but you did not. In all truth, Mistress, you gave me life. The existence I had before you? Before your touch? It was a life half lived. Now I am what I should be, who I should be.”

“A wolf.”

“A great wolf. With purpose. With dedication to others. I have a mate, and I have children. None of these things would have come to pass if not for you, Mistress. So please, do not feel guilt over what was done in the past.” He titled his head to regard her. “No matter what I say you will still harbor those barbs of guilt in your heart, but Mother Confessor, you did what needed to be done, what was required and requested. And you made me a far better wolf than a man.”

After a few moments Kahlan thanked him. Her eyes moved over the scene, not registering the gruesomeness of Orsk lobbing off heads, or pulling bodies into the brush, away from the trail. The body of the Lord General lay close, his empty eyes staring at her, his face slack with shock. It was his last expression, and one that she found fitting for such a narrow minded fool.

Orsk’s axe removed his head, and the pompous helmet along with it. “Done. Mistress.”

“Good. You here.” She called out to the ginger haired guard, and he spun around, his eyes wide and needy. He wanted and would do anything for her, to please her. The look of confession, when it gazed back at her seemed to sting. She was forever thankful that she would never see that look of hapless devotion in Cara’s eyes. The devotion she saw there was always warm, full of life and of love. Kahlan’s fingers tightened on Cara’s shoulder.

“Command me Mistress!”

“You will take these heads and travel back to Aydindril. You will present them to the Central Council and you will tell them that the Mother Confessor does not, and will not grant any mercy to any kingdom or army who dares to raise a hand against her. Do you understand?” She asked.

“I do, my Mistress.”

“Then, go.” She sighed. “And then you may travel to the People’s Palace.”

“Thank you Mistress.” He smiled a lopsided grin, which made her look away, uneasy still.

Her eyes moved to the massive wolf sitting beside her. “Will you return now to your family?”

“I can stay with you, if you would prefer.”

“No, Brophy, you went above and beyond your duty, as my friend, to come and warn me.”

“Somehow I think now, seeing you, and that one.” He motioned to Cara. “You would have been fine. Perhaps my trip was for naught.”

“Hardly. I have missed you, and I got to hear of your cubs.” Kahlan smiled.

“Be careful Mistress.”

“I will. And you as well. There is something dark coming into the Midlands, please do your best to stay safe.”

“You would be surprised how we can be so close to man, but they never know, not until we determine that we want them to know. Don’t worry on my account, Mistress.”

Part 18

Her head pounded, and colors swirled before her eyes, when she opened them. The beating had lasted through her slipping into unconsciousness, and her body ached in the familiar way; the throb of broken ribs and torn skin. She spit a mouthful of blood to the floor, as her feet touched down, as the Mord–Sith in the corner lowered her. The beatings she could deal with, but the hazy mind, from whatever was in the water they offered her was worse. Making her thoughts disjointed, amplified by the nausea rolling through her body.

“All you need to do is to write to Cara, and we will let you rest for a little while. I am disappointed in you, Berdine. I thought your word meant something, and you said that you would do it.” Triana said with a heavy and bored tone. Berdine looked up at her, watching as she rolled her Agiel between her palms.

“Do it yourself.” Berdine hissed.

“But where is the fun in that?” Triana’s full lips parted in a smile.

A familiar scream faintly reached her ears, and her own low growl vibrated in her chest. That was Raina’s scream of pain. Hearing it and not being able to stop it flooded her muscles with power she did not think she had after so many hours of hanging from the chains. But now they pulsed with life, and her soul needed to lash out.

Berdine grabbed the arm of the Mord–Sith beside her, and pulled, bringing her dangerously close. She used her own forearm as leverage and snapped the bones in Mord–Sith’s arm, before reaching with the chain and wrapping it around her neck. With a sharp tug the chamber filled with the sound of the Mord–Sith’s neck snapping, and Berdine dropped her to the ground. The other three Mord–Sith in the room all seemed to take a step back their faces ashen.

“Oh. Suddenly afraid of a little pain?” Berdine growled at them.

“Oh no. not the pain. Death.” Triana said evenly from where she stood in the corner.

“Mord–Sith fear not death.” Berdine scoffed.

“You don’t. They do.”

“That makes no sense. Give her the breath of life!”

“They cannot. They are… unable.” Triana stepped closer to her. “Think on that, Sister. We cannot give your precious Raina the breath of life, if we happen to… become too exuberant in our torturing of her. How would you feel then? Knowing that you are the cause of her permanent death? When all that you needed to do was simply write words on a page… and your lover would be near you again. Tell me Berdine, how long would you live with that guilt, before you lost your mind?”

She blinked the blood and sweat from her eyes. “But… you. We are Mord–Sith. We give the.” She looked at the dead body laying at her feet, and the finality of her actions pulsed inside of her, moving through her muddled mind. Her eyes closed as she hung her head. The torture did not matter, the pain, the starvation, not even the toxins in her blood. She was done fighting. Because all that mattered, and all that would matter, was Raina.

* * * * *

“Well, apparently I did hit my head.” Cara said as she came to stand beside Kahlan.

She had left her to sleep, under the watchful, if distant eyes of Orsk. The mountain of a man was not pleased with this assignment, but took to it willingly, standing some ten feet from Cara, the handle of this massive battle axe on the ground, his fingers crossed over the spike at the top, between the two halves of the blade. For all his grumbling, and besides his only having one eye, he was formidable and deadly. Kahlan regarded him for a while, as she sat chopping vegetables for the stew she was making, and for the first time felt a feeling of accomplishment when she regarded someone she had confessed. While Brophy had intensified her guilt at using her gift, Orsk made her proud of it.

Perhaps, in time, she would find comfort in between the two emotions.

“Apparently.” Kahlan said smiling up at Cara.

Her hair was matted still, and Kahlan would offer her assistance in cleaning it, just as soon as the venison stew was complete. She knew it was Cara’s favorite, and had set about making it just for that reason. The others would eat it, but Cara would rejoice. And in that Kahlan hoped that she would feel some of the love she felt. That when she did small little things, it was to express her deep love for the Mord–Sith. After the scare earlier, she felt the need to truly show Cara how very much she loved her.

Cara sat beside her, “Are they all dead?”

“Very much so.”

“Was there a talking wolf or did I imagine that?” Cara asked, looking at her from the side, keeping her face turned to the fire.

“There was.”Kahlan laughed. “Brophy wishes you well. He left.”

“Hm. Conveniently he left. So perhaps there never was a talking dog.” She moved to stand suddenly, as if sitting was the last thing she should be doing, while Kahlan knew that Cara should not even be walking around just yet.

“Ah, no you don’t.” Kahlan reached up and gently took her hand, pulling her back down to sit beside her. There was significant resistance, but Cara relented, sitting. “You need to rest.”

“I do not. One little hit to the head does not stop a Mord–Sith from doing her duty.”

“Which is to obey the Lord Rahl. Who.” Kahlan leaned closer, and whispered in her ear, “Wants you to stay where you are, resting.”

“We do not have time to rest, Kahlan.” Cara grumbled.

“Allow me this? You did take a nasty hit to the head, and were unconscious for some time.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “You have hit me much harder than that, and there was no resting afterwards.”

Kahlan did not wince; instead she kept her expression even. “You were unconscious for hours.” Kahlan said evenly, her expression one of patience, and determination.

Cara’s eyes narrowed, and she met Kahlan’s stare with a stubborn one of her own. But as they stared at one another, she could see the tiniest of movements in the muscles around her eyes, before she closed them all together, giving in. “FINE!”

“Good.” Kahlan smiled at her. “Stew will be done soon.”

“Stew?” Cara asked.

“Mmhm. Your favorite.” Kahlan sighed lightly as she felt the brush of Cara’s arm against hers, the touch could appear accidental, but they both knew it was not. It was very much on purpose. “Brophy was really here. I ordered him back to his family. We will be in D’Hara soon, and he is needed elsewhere.”

Cara vaguely nodded.

* * * * *

Hally appeared beside them, her face looking pale and drawn. Cara searched her expression, her eyes, and only felt the sense of foreboding.

“What is it?” She asked.

“I… just… checked. As you asked.” She said softly, and her arm twitched. Cara saw then that she held the journey book in her hand.

Cara sat up straighter, and took the offered book. Part of her did not want to open it, did not want to see the words written inside. She did not know what she would find the moment she read the words. Words that could change her rabid thoughts to reality. Whatever she saw would suddenly become truth. A truth that would be, no matter what Cara had done, or would do. It would be. She was at the mercy of the written word.

Kahlan waited patiently beside her, and Cara stared at the leather bond book. Clearly there was something inside, otherwise Hally would not have brought it to her. And by the look on the blonde’s face, Cara would not like what she was about to read.

Slowly, keeping her expression cold, she opened the book. Seeing the even script made her sigh, knowing that Berdine had written it. The words made her blood run cold. She read them aloud.” ‘The Mord–Sith temple is under the guidance and autonomous control of Triana. She cordially invites you to return home, and to discuss with her at length the true Lord Rahl.’ “

“She cannot be serious.” Kahlan mumbled. Cara could feel Kahlan’s eyes on her, but could not seem to look away from the words before her. “Cara, what is it?”

“I killed Triana. With my own hands I snapped her neck.” She looked down at her hands. She remembered that day, remembered the feeling of Kahlan’s hand on her throat, the look of hatred in her eyes in the darkness of the cave. And she remembered not long after putting her own hands on Triana and snapping her neck.

“Well, we will go and get to the bottom of this.”

Slowly she closed the book. “Berdine is clearly telling me not to come.”

“Oh? You read that?”

“Between her words, I did.”

“What do you want to do?” Kahlan asked gently.

“Go there.”

“Then we shall.”

She looked at Kahlan, her eyes searching her face and seeing only openness and understanding. “It is a trap.”

“I know.”

Cara bit her lips, her vision blurring, her focus drifting for a moment. To rush headlong to the temple and into a trap would be rash and ill–advised. It would be exactly what one would expect Richard or Kahlan to do. But not Cara. One would expect her to think with her head, to use strategy. To weigh the options. Part of her wanted to rush headlong to the temple alone, wielding nothing more than her wrath and Agiels. Just to prove them wrong. But, in the end it would be foolhardy. “We will continue on, and meet with General Reibisch.”

“Cara?”

“If it is a trap, we don’t know who is springing it. It could be the Dream Walker. Or just some rogue band of Mord–Sith. Either way? I should… go with at minimum a squad of D’Harans.”

“We will both go.” Kahlan said, squeezing her hand. “No arguing.”

* * * * *

She had missed the dust. She had not thought that she would, the way it blinded her, or found its way, somehow, under her leather and to coat all of her skin. But there was a rightness to the dry warm air, the smell of the horse under her, the sun on her back, and the thickness of the dust that surrounded them as they rode hard across the arid plains.

It had not taken long to get here, and she was happily surprised that these men, the Galean Calvary did not look upon her as merely a D’Haran, or even a woman. They tested her strengths, for a day or so, riding hard and pushing themselves and seeing if she could keep up. And keep up she did, if not bested them. Her D’Haran stallion was accustomed to the terrain, more so than their horses, and once they crossed the Kern River the respect of the Galean’s was hers. Not that it mattered. As much as Rikka was not a fan of long cross country journeys on horseback, and as much as she had complained of them to Cara, her heart was elated to be back, riding through the land she knew, along the quiet rock formations and cliff faces.

The scream that filled the air could not be distinguished. It was man or it was horse, Rikka could not tell. Not that she had time to think. The scream sounded, and she pulled roughly on the reins, bringing her horse to a halt, causing even more dust to surround her, obscuring her vision. She knew the sun was directly overhead, so no shadows would fall on the ground giving away positions of the others. Another scream, this one more like a bellow, and definitely human, reached her ears. She spun the horse and called out Salina’s name. The blonde Mord–Sith had been riding the closest to her before they were surrounded by the wall of dust.

There was no reply, not that she had truly expected there to be one. On the contrary, she was fairly certain that the other Mord–Sith was in fact dead.

Everything that had been alive moments before? Was in fact no longer. The feeling that she was the only one still breathing moved through her. And that utterly terrified Rikka, because she was not sure exactly who or what had come from the dust, but whatever it was had been catastrophic. Her heart began to beat painfully in her chest.

Her horse following her pull, and turned a full revolution, as her eyes scanned the thick brown dust that filled the air. There. She heard it now, steel on steel. Perhaps she was not the only one still alive.

She dug her heels into the horse and rushed into whatever lay ahead.

* * * * *

Raina’s small fist found her shoulder, though the punch was more to convey meaning that to hurt. Still, Berdine smiled, and her larger hand wrapped around Raina’s fist. “I told you I would be fine.”

“And you should know me better than that.”

“Berdine.” Raina sighed, leaning into her, and she welcomed it, her heart thrilled at feeling the smaller woman close to her. The pain of her body dissipated almost completely as she felt Raina’s skin on hers, felt the warmth from her body. Her arms wrapped around her, holding her close, tightly.

“Raina, I.”

“No. Don’t. Not now.” Raina’s voice chastised.

“Alright.” She set her lips to the crown of her head. The training room was filthy, with chains moving still as they hung from the ceiling, the blood on the walls and floor her own. The comfort was that the two of them were in here alone. Triana had been somewhat true to her word. Once she wrote to Cara, the door had opened and Raina had been shoved inside. While there were no creature comforts in the cold room, Berdine felt at ease, she felt as though nothing else mattered or was amiss, because she felt the warmth of Raina in her arms.

“You broke too easily.”

“Ha! I did not break.” She looked down at the dark eyes that were searching her face. “I think I know why the Mord–Sith here seem… odd…. They are banelings. That is why they are always staring, looking hungry, that they… seem to want more than our screams, and why we are still here. Why they have not killed or truly tortured us.”

“Triana?”

“She seems herself, insane as before. And she never could give the breath of life. Not reliably.” Her thumb went under Raina’s chin. “If… I did not do as they asked? And if they continued to hurt you… if you were to pass…into the Underworld.” Berdine’s voice cracked. “I refuse to be the reason why you are no longer in this world.”

“Stubborn woman.”

“Perhaps.”

“You would die a thousand deaths to protect me.”

“Yes.”

“And you would do their bidding to keep me alive.”

“Yes.”

“You are stubborn.”

“Yes.”

“Berdine?”

“Yes?”

“You can say it now.” Raina whispered, her eyes pleading, and reflecting the faint sunlight coming in through the barred windows, glistening on the emotion and the unshed tears there.

“Raina, I love you.”

* * * * *

Screams filled the air, screams of horses, of men, and of Agiel. The dust cleared some and Rikka leapt from the back of her horse, pulling her Agiel in one hand, a small dagger in the other. Five men, in filthy looking clothes, and even filthier faces were surrounding Leona. The blonde Mord–Sith was almost as tall and nearly as strong as Berdine, but she was unable to block the onslaught from all five of the men. She fought bravely, as Rikka rushed forward, but two knives from opposing directions moved through her leathers and into her body. She gasped eyes wide. Rikka’s Agiel pressed to one man’s ear, as her dagger’s blade moved along another’s throat. Both were dead before they knew she was there. She would kill each and every one of these vermin, whoever they were. Cowards or brilliant strategists to attack in the thick of the dust, under the blinding glare of the high sun.

Rikka’s Agiel twisted on the chest of another man, and as he fell, she used his shoulder as leverage, jumping and slamming her blade into the junction between neck and shoulder of another man. Her leg kicked out, sending the final man staggering back, and allowing her a moment to turn on him, snarling.

He was actually smiling.

“I will wipe that smile from your face, you fool.”

“Who’s the fool now?” He goaded.

Rikka sucked in a deep breath as she felt a push and pinch. The man laughed, and she looked down, seeing the metallic tip of a pike protruding from her stomach, before her feet lifted from the ground. The pain had not yet come, first was the bewilderment of seeing something where it did not belong. Then came the rage. At being caught unaware.

“I am going to kill you.” Rikka growled at the laughing man, and meant it for him as well as all the other men that seemed to appear from the dusty air around them.

“So bold, for one so near to death.” His eyes looked over her shoulder. “Don’t kill her. The Empress wanted one of these women. She will do.”

As he spoke, that was when the pain came, and Rikka embraced it, and as her vision narrowed into thin pinpricks of light she thought of only one thing. Staying alive long enough to kill them all.

* * * * *

The chill in the air seemed to mock the blanket over her. The winds were coming from the north, and had the bite of snow in them. Not that she needed much of an excuse to move closer to Cara as they slept, the idea though, of getting warm again was firmly holding onto her mind.

Seeing the blood that washed from Cara’s hair before they all settled in for a quiet dinner had soured Kahlan’s mood. Making her realize how very fragile life was. And how, she may be Mord–Sith, enough to hold the bond of the Lord Rahl from Drefan, she did not know if she could administer the breath of life. She did not know if she could in fact save Cara if she ever needed to. And that terrified her. A world without Cara? It did not seem possible a week before. It had been. It had been the reality and the truth, but one that Kahlan Amnell had decided not to validate by recognizing it. The Spirits had made her well aware on this day. Showing her that even her mate, for all her strength and determination, was not indestructible.

Kahlan’s arm moved over Cara’s waist and she pulled their bodies together. Needing to feel the press of her body, feel how her lungs took in air, feel everything that she was so close to losing each and every day.

“Stop.” Cara’s voice whispered.

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking those thoughts.”

“You are absurd. What thoughts?”

“Kahlan? I can hear the hitch in your voice, I can hear you sighing, I can feel the way your fingers are gasping at me as if I were merely mist. I am here. I am alive. So stop thinking the worst.”

Kahlan pressed her face against the back of Cara’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent, and closing her eyes. How did her mate know her so very well that she could read her thoughts, read the way her body spoke?

“We have talked about this before, Kahlan.” Cara said more gently, her naked hand moving over Kahlan’s and then up her forearm soothingly. “That if we allow ourselves to go down the rocky path of what if? We will surely trip. Focus on the what is.”

“And what is, Cara?”

“You are here. I am here.”

“And?”

“And? Is there more? Does there need to be more?”

“I love you.” Kahlan added.

“I know you do.” Cara said, her body leaning back into Kahlan, who pressed her lips to her neck again, as she moved her hand from Cara’s stomach, lower, over her thigh.

“Tell me.” She whispered huskily into her ear, her hand still moving, to reach as far down Cara’s leg, to her knee, before slowly moving to her inner thigh, before trailing up slowly. “Tell me.”

“Kahlan.” Cara sighed.

Her hand moved between Cara’s legs, the knuckle of her thumb pressing against the seam of leather there.

“Kahlan the others are right there.”

“I know.” She breathed, her nostrils flaring as desire heated her skin and flushed her face in the darkness. Her thumb pressed with more directness into Cara’s center. “Tell me.”

Slightly Cara’s legs opened more, to allow Kahlan’s entire palm to press against her, and she began slowly stroking her through the thick leather. As she well knew, Mord–Sith leather had an unexplainable way of amplifying touch and sensations. Kahlan had felt this herself when she wore it, and had watched Cara’s face before as she touched her just like this. She suddenly would give almost anything to be able to see the blonde’s face, to see the color filling her cheeks, to see the way her eyes seemed to darken and thicken with color, as desire turned to arousal which turned to consummation.

Touching her, feeling her, being grounded in what was real increased the thundering of her heart. To touch Cara was to know she was real, to know she was alive. To know they were both so very much alive, and so very much in love.

She increased the speed of her caress, moving the entire length of Cara’s center.

“Tell me.”

Cara whimpered.

“Tell me.” Kahlan’s teeth bit down into the softness of Cara’s neck.

Instead of stroking the length of Cara’s sex, Kahlan pressed her fingers firmly down, knowing and feeling the firmness of her clit, and began to move in a deliberate circle. Her fingers felt the sparking of heat from Cara’s body, and she moved her other arm under Cara’s head, along the length of her arm, and entwined their fingers. While Kahlan wanted to allow both of her hands the pleasure of exploring Cara’s body, the need to be grounded, the need to feel the solidity of her mate was stronger, and with their fingers clasped together Kahlan found that peace.

“Tell me.”

Cara faintly moaned her name.

“Tell me.”

Cara’s body leaned deeper into Kahlan, and she felt Cara’s thighs tighten, felt her entire body turn stiff before she shuddered with her release, and air escaped her lips with those three words, “I love you.” Her head turned, and the stars provided just enough light for Kahlan to see her face, to see the look of complete love in Cara’s blue green eyes. “I love you Kahlan, I have only ever loved you.”

* * * * *

“Wake her.” A softly spoken female voice ordered. Rikka was already very much awake. The pain had kept her company, and she had used it as only a Mord–Sith knew how. Felt it, almost enjoyed it. Because in the caress of pain there was life. And when there was life there was the promise of another moment. A moment where she would dish out her revenge.

Her knees hit the hard packed earthen floor, and her eyes blinked open, seeing the filthy carpet that was below her. It was coated in a sheen of dirt and dust. As was everything here in the Deep Nothing. They should have called it the Perpetually Filthy. Deliriously she laughed, rising her eyes up to the woman who sat in the chair made of white and blackened bones before her.

“Oh, you are awake.” The voice spoke from behind the veil of stringy black hair. Eyes nearly white, with only faint touches of blue looked out from shallow skin.

The woman looked frail, as if a strong wind would knock her down. Her thin limbs were completely covered by gossamer black fabric, that was thin like mist. The crackling of black and dark yellow power moved around her, dispelling the thought that this woman was weak. Rikka knew there was magic in the air, and magic around this woman. All she needed to do was get her to use it, and she would have her, and would break her repeatedly, merely for the fact that this woman’s minions had ruined perfectly suitable leather. She could feel her blood as it still dripped from the wound, could smell the death that was creeping steadily inside of her from the hole in her midsection to her heart. Rikka also noticed that her Agiel was still at her side.

“Can you reach her?” She asked and Rikka then noticed the petite young woman, no more than a girl really, standing beside the ghastly throne.

The girl was dressed as all those who lived in the area surrounding the abandoned city of Caska dressed. Dark colors and loosely fitting layers of fabric. The turban on her head held back her hair, and her eyes, as they regarded Rikka swirled with black. They reminded Rikka of the same way the blackness and blood swirled in the Mother Confessor’s eyes. But in this child’s eyes, the sight of them multiplied the feeling of emptiness, horrific emptiness.

“No. She is… one of them.” The girl replied, her voice hesitant.

“So you are one of the infamous Mord–Sith. Protectors of the Lord Rahl.”

“Of course.” Rikka said in a raspy voice. Speaking made the pain from her ruptured guts radiate through her body. By will alone she was still alive. By her own will. The damage, she knew, was beyond even the most gifted healer’s abilities.

“Well, if I cannot control you. Then we will just have to torture you to get you to talk.”

“Rushing ahead of yourself. You haven’t even asked me anything yet.” Rikka chided.

“You would never answer my questions. Not if you are truly a Mord–Sith.” The woman tapped her fingertips together. Rikka noticed that each finger seemed coated in color, from the grey of charcoal to the blue of sky. It was odd and unsettling. “I find your kind fascinating. Blind loyalty and devotion. Especially now, to the Mother Confessor. I always believed that the Mord–Sith were the counterpoint, the balance, and the pristine enemy of the Confessor line. Perhaps because you now know that there will be no more Confessors, you have embraced this woman, protecting her, when you should have slaughtered her, like your kind slaughtered all the others. I should thank you, I suppose. Because I need the Mother Confessor. Soon, very soon, she will be in my possession and she will learn what it is like to bow before true power. So, yes. Mord–Sith, I will torture you, for you to tell me everything you know of this Mother Confessor, to tell me where she is, and where she is going, and to tell me exactly who is traveling with her and protecting her. She cannot hide from me. Once your Lord Rahl is no more? Then I will have her.” She closed her fist, her pale blue eyes glaring at Rikka. “She will be my weapon to wield.”

“No one can control the Mother Confessor.”

“Your ignorance is touching. We will see how glib you are, when you watch me remove your arms from your body.”

Rikka laughed. This woman, or sorceress, or Empress was a fool. She clearly did not know who or what she was dealing with. She may have an Empire, she may control a Dream Walker, but she did not understand the Mother Confessor, and did not understand Mord–Sith. Rikka would not give her the satisfaction of gaining knowledge through her demise.

“You laugh?”

“Should I not? You clearly are a stupid woman. I will laugh now. And I will laugh the day the Mother Confessor kills you. Because mark my words, NO ONE controls the Mother Confessor.” Rikka promised, her fingers tightening on the handle of her Agiel.

“You dare!”

“I more than dare. I laugh in your ignorant face. You know NOTHING.” Rikka pulled her Agiel and pressed it to her chest, and with a smile, turned her wrist, and the magic and the pain of her weapon stopped her own heart.

* * * * *

As the day progressed, and as the sun climbed higher above them it became darker, as the thickness of the forest multiplied, as the wide new leaves above them touched and blocked out most of the rays from the sun above. Down on the forest floor, the trail was soft with the leaves and needles shed the previous autumn. The smell of fetid decay increased as did the temperature, the moisture in the air thick and rich enough already in the early spring to play host to a multitude of tiny buzzing insects, and the small and not so small birds that fed upon them. A silent forest this was not, as nature seemed to be overwhelmingly alive around them. Kahlan wiped her hand across the back of her neck, amazed that she was sweating when just the night before she had been clinging to Cara for warmth.

She smiled softly, as her eyes moved over her mates leather clad back, because it had been more than warmth that had caused her to cling to the blonde. As if sensing Kahlan’s glance, Cara looked over her shoulder, her eyes still able to flash mischievously at her through the thick shade they were all walking in. Kahlan smiled wider, shaking her head, because Cara always seemed to just know when her thoughts traveled to the intimate.

Through the gloom a flash of brightness caught her eye, and she kneeled. Being as delicate as possible, she lifted the fragile object, with its thin light blue coloring.

“Mother Confessor?” Hally asked from beside her.

“It’s alright. I just. Saw something.” Kahlan said, looking at the half of an egg shell in her palm. She glanced up at the thick trees, looking for sign of the nest, and perhaps the young new bird. The branches and leaves were so thick she could not see anything resembling a nest, but still Kahlan smiled, knowing it was there. The thought of life going on, continuing made her eyes smile along with her lips. After all of the heavy thoughts of death in days previous, just a moment of levity, of seeing something so very fragile and strong at the same time as beautiful was refreshing.

“Ah, a robin’s egg.” Captain Ryan said coming beside her, and he shifted his heavy leather and chainmail breastplate. She looked up at his strained face. The heat of this forest was getting to him as well. “You know, it is good luck to find such a thing. It is a sign of fertility, that perhaps.”

Hally slapped his arm, hard, and he stopped speaking.

“Oh. I didn’t mean.” He sputtered.

“Stupid galoot!” Hally grabbed the chainmail around his throat and pulled him away. Kahlan could hear the Hally was giving him a stern talking to but could not make out the specific words.

“He didn’t mean it.” Cara said softly from beside her.

“Yes he did.” Kahlan was still smiling, and she set the egg shell back on the ground where she had found it, and then stood looking into Cara’s eyes. “I am glad I saw it. For whatever reason.”

“We will… find a way.”

“I know that we will.” Kahlan leaned closer to her, kissing the corner of her lips. “I know we will.”

* * * * *

The flames burned and blackened her skin. She could feel it bubbling, before it thickened and began to crack and roll off of her body. The scent of cooking flesh made her retch, knowing it was her own flesh burning.

“Interesting.” A familiar voice spoke from over her shoulder. “You took your own life.”

“Well, I thought it was better than the alternative.” Rikka said, her eyes watching Darken Rahl as he walked from behind her. He regarded her with his blue eyes twinkling.

“You have not changed in all these years.” He actually smiled. “Aside from being dead of course.”

“Well, we are suffering the same affliction it seems.”

“Tell me… about this sorceress who has been sending me so many new residents.”

“You tell me. I am sure your first hand information is far more reliable than mine.”

“Does the Mother Confessor know?”

“Of course she does.” Rikka rolled her eyes at him, and considered crossing her arms, but thought he would take the move for one of shyness versus annoyance, and instead put her hands on her hips, daring him, even in the Underworld to look away.

He did not.

“A narrow minded sorceress and a Dream Walker. Each alone is not something that can be ignored. Together they cause me great concern.”

“Well, luckily you are dead, and it will not matter.”

“Oh, but it will. You see, my dear Rikka, if this creature succeeds in her attempt then this?” He moved his arms around the sulfuric air, the green flames and the writhing bodies. “This will cease to be.”

“The Underworld will cease to be? While I am not the smartest woman, Darken, I am not so naÏve to believe that the Keeper nor the Underworld would cease to be.”

“Magic would. And what is this place if not magical? How could you be dead, and yet. Here you are. Speaking with me, feeling pain, thinking thoughts. Magic.” He ran his knuckles along her collarbone, much as he used to, years ago. “Rikka, this is all, merely… magic. If that foolish sorceress succeeds magic will end. And so will we.”

“Then we stop her.”

“Oh yes, we will.” He eyes flashed with something akin to pride, or perhaps excitement. “I need Cara.”

Rikka glared at him.

“I need what she can offer me.”

“You are dead. What can she offer?”

“Life. Life everlasting, actually. Just as I can offer you, Rikka. If I let you live again? If I send you back into the world, will you go to Cara? Will you convince her to come home to me?”

“You know Cara cannot be convinced of anything.”

“That was once true. Now? Now I think things have changed. I think she would do anything for the Mother Confessor.” Rikka winced with the truth of his words. “I see that name affects you as well. That Kahlan Amnell, she is a fascinating woman, able to sink her teeth into each and everyone’s heart. How does she manage to do such a thing I wonder?”

“Perhaps it is powerful magic?”

Darken Rahl looked at her for a moment, before his lips pulled into a smile and he laughed deeply. “Oh, Rikka. I missed your dry humor. Yes. Powerful Magic indeed. Take my offer. Live again. And go to them. Do whatever you feel you must, but get Cara to come to me.”

“How can you make me live again?”

“You will be a baneling.”

“And I will kill for you. Each day.”

“For the Keeper really. I could care less.”

“You will care; when one day you are the one I kill.”

“Oh, you…. Such bravado. I am not alive to kill.”

“I know you, Darken. I was your concubine for two years. I know you very well. And in knowing you? I am positive that you are planning something, and that you will be flesh again. And when you are? Look over your shoulder. As I will be here. To send you to the Keeper again.”

“Rikka, I will most certainly be waiting to see you again, when we are both made flesh.”

* * * * *

Her eyes snapped opened, but she did not move. RIkka allowed her eyes to move slowly, surveying where she was. From the amount of flies buzzing before her eyes and around her ears, as well as the smell filling her nostrils she assumed she was on the midden heap. Or, as she noticed she was laying on top of dead bodies, something a little more foul. The sound of crows, and some arguing vultures could be heard over the hiss of the flies, but nothing more. The decomposition below her was well on its way, with the scalding sun of this region.

Slowly she moved, rolling from atop the pile and landed on her feet. Her eyes surveyed the land around her. The ground was disturbed from where the tents and fires had been, but now the only sign that anyone had been here, let alone a small army were the heaps of trash and those markings. She looked to the north, and could faintly see through the waves of heat a slash of color.

Her Agiel was gone. But at least she was wearing her leather still, even if there was a gaping hole in it. Better that than to be naked, and having to rummage through the stack of bodies to find suitable clothing.

Looking around, she saw nothing of use, but she would find a weapon soon enough. She could kill with her hands if need be. She had until dusk the following day to make her kill for the Keeper, and she would do just that. Pick off any and all people in her way, until she reached the Mother Confessor and Cara. She would move much faster than the Empress and her troops, and with far more drive. She would reach them first.

Part 19

Twilight was beginning to thicken the blue of the sky, enriching it with the shadows of the clouds on the distant horizon, and the air held a quiet foreboding as they walked through the thin woods. Through the trees she could see the sky, and to herself, Kahlan remarked on how different the sky looked in D’Hara.

It had been over a fortnight since the scuffle with the Blood of the Fold, and as they began their decent from the Boundary Mountains the temperature had risen and the foliage had changed, becoming sparse, and the trees became smaller. It was as Kahlan remembered it from the last time they passed from the lushness of the Midlands into the more barren realm of D’Hara. She found it odd, that such a dry and vast kingdom seemed to produce some of the richest and exotic people.

Though, Kahlan smiled at herself as she watched Cara walking a few paces ahead of her, she was somewhat biased in her opinion.

As she watched the way Cara’s hips swayed, as she lost herself in the hypnotic movements, she had to blink to regain her thoughts of the here and now, to force away the memory of feeling of those hips, and that backside in her hands, as Cara had moved in a similar way against Kahlan’s body the night before.

Cara stopped, and looked down the side of the trail, where there was a slight ravine.

“Cara what is it?” Kahlan asked.

“A body.”

“A what?”

“A dead body. Looks like a Galean Scout. Appears recently dead. He was probably coming to see you.” Cara said evenly, as her hands went to her Agiels, pulling them free, and their faint scream filled the air. “And I no longer hear birds.” Her green tinted eyes flashed to Kahlan who nodded, pulling her daggers from her boots.

The others around them stopped walking, but Shota, who had the privilege that day of walking with Drefan, was holding the chain that latched to the newly acquired collar about his neck. The witch seemed to like walking him when he was bound in such a way, and it had kept him from running off. Shota kept walking, seeming oblivious as everyone else.

“Shota.” Kahlan hissed, and she looked up, seeing all the others pulling weapons.

“Well this is silly. I don’t feel anything amiss.” Shota said, and then lunged to the side, the dacra moving through the air, slicing her shoulder and hair, but missing the kill shot that it had been intended with.

From all around them the bright colors of their dresses filled the fading light, making them easy targets. Kahlan spun in a circle, before throwing one of her dagger’s, which sunk into the throat of a Sister of the Dark just as she was about to throw her dacra. Instead she crumpled to her knees.

“PROTECT LORD RAHL!” Kahlan ordered, wondering how she had not heard this small group of women before they attacked. The two remaining guards moved around Drefan, and Kahlan was confident that he would survive. Now it was a matter of the rest of them.

A blur of red leather and long blonde hair rushed into the thick of three Sisters, Hally moving efficiently. Kahlan pulled her sword and just in time lifted it to block another two dacra that had been moving towards her. With a low growl her eyes narrowed and moved over the scene; at least ten Sisters that she could see. Far more than they usually came across at once.

There were two less Sisters standing as Kahlan hacked through them with her sword. She heard Cara grunt, and knowing she should stay focused and not look, Kahlan found she could not help herself. Looking over her shoulder, seeing the color of leather moving swiftly, as a Sister screamed with the force of the Agiel pressed to her chest, before she fell.

“FOCUS!” Cara yelled at her, not even turning around, instead she ran headlong towards Hally, who was now battling two Sisters.

Nodding, and turning Kahlan watched as one of the Elite Guards clutched his throat, blood flowing from between his fingers as he dropped to the ground. Suddenly her back arched and she felt the sting of a blade in her back, beside her spine.

Kahlan spun around, and watched in horror as a dacra glistened wet with blood as it protruded from Drefan’s back. The other guard beside him was laying dead, and Drefan fell to his knees. He was too far away from her, and the pain in Kahlan’s back was growing. Feeling helpless, and feeling the pain from the bond between the two of them, still Kahlan forced herself to take two steps forward, as she screamed “CARA!”

Kahlan still managed to walk towards Drefan, as Cara spun around. She was closer. Her eyes flashed over Drefan and then to Kahlan, before she nodded. The Sister of the Dark, with long black hair was only a foot from Drefan, and she began pulling the Han and the life from Drefan; it was a sickening reddish energy, and Kahlan could feel it, and it made her stumble slightly, and she dropped her sword, but gritting her teeth forced herself to take another step closer.

Cara’s Agiel slammed into the side of the Sister of the Dark’s face, and the immediacy of it stunned her, and she dropped to the ground, and the line of magic between her and Drefan wavered, giving Kahlan enough time to rush to her side, and wrap her fingers around her throat.

The world around them stopped. There was no sound. There was nothing but this woman’s throat in Kahlan’s hand. There was nothing but her hazel eyes looking terrified into Kahlan’s. There was nothing but this one moment. And in that moment Kahlan lowered her walls, and she released all of her power as the Mother Confessor directly into the Sister of the Dark. The hazel eyes filled with black, as did the white of her eyes.

In that moment she ceased to a Sister of the Dark. And she became whatever Kahlan willed her to be. With an explosion of air it was over, and the noise from the battle flowed back into Kahlan’s ears, over her skin.

“Command me, Mistress.”

“Remove the dacra, carefully.” Kahlan growled, feeling the pain anew in her back, as well as the bond between her and Drefan weakening further.

The Sister crawled quickly to Drefan and obeyed her new Mistress.

* * * * *

The Sister, who was confessed, pulled the blade from Drefan’s back and then she screamed horribly. It was a sound Cara had rarely heard outside of a torture room. Her eyes flashed between the Sister who was laying on the ground, limbs twitching, and blood pouring from her mouth and nose, to Kahlan whose eyes narrowed at the woman, before she took a deep breath.

Cara raised her brow at Kahlan, whose face was set and hard.

“Not me.” Kahlan said as way of explanation, but Cara was not sure if she believed her. Not that it mattered, nor was there time to think about it, as another dacra came whistling by her head. Annoyed, Cara grabbed it, and shifting slightly threw it back to the Sister. Though she did not catch it, her forehead did, and she fell backwards.

“Hally! Stop playing. Kill them!”

“Yes Mistress!” Hally said, from the darkened shadows in the distance. Cara was confident Hally would do just that. As would the others. She turned to check on Drefan, whose face was still in a stunned grimace.

Magic crackled nearby, and for a moment Cara thought it was Shota, but turning her eyes, as she slowly turned her body, she saw it was another Sister. Her hands were outstretched pointed towards Drefan, when suddenly the magic filled the air, in a long line of black and white. Cara stepped between Drefan and this Sister of the Dark. The magic moved violently through the air, and Cara envisioned it as the length of a whip. She caught the end of the magic, and wrapped it around her wrist. She felt the magic touching and tightening around her and it burned in such a way she had never experienced before. She screamed; a scream of rage and pain perfectly balanced and she pulled the Sister’s magic, brought it inside and it was her’s.

The Sister of the Dark dropped to her knees screaming, her hands moving to the sides of her head, and as Cara sent her pain through their newly formed connection, the Sister began to beg for Cara to stop.

“No. Now silence.” Cara growled, sending more pain, as she felt this new magic pulsing under her skin, banging around inside of her body. She had never taken the magic inside of her from a Sister of the Dark, or Light. Not that it mattered. She was Mord–Sith. They were made to do this; to deflect magic or to take it inside and control it. It was just very different feeling. She looked over at Kahlan, who was back on her feet and had her sword again, jabbing it through the stomach of a Sister. Shota was in the distance behind Orsk, who was standing solid and apparently without direct orders was content to watch the battle. Captain Ryan was panting as two bodies were at his feet. A slight cut bled on his cheek. Hally turned, a wide smile on her blood splattered face. A respectable seven Sisters lay in different positions of death around her.

A hush fell around them, until Drefan moaned.

A hand settled on her shoulder, and Cara turned to Kahlan.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Kahlan smiled.

“I…it’s fine.” Cara said, because she could not honestly say she was alright. She was beginning to feel light headed, and the pounding of a headache at the same time. She blinked the feelings away, and turned to look at the silently sobbing Sister on her knees.

“Should I confess her?” Kahlan asked.

“No need. She is mine. I control her magic and therefore.” Cara said and with her mind twisted the magic inside the Sister, and she screamed, before her hands slapped closed over her mouth.

Hally chuckled as she came up beside them. “Feels itchy, doesn’t it?” Hally asked Cara.

“Something like that.” Cara muttered under her breath.

“I did it once. Took the power of a Sister of the badly dressed? I felt itchy and filthy for days after.”

“After?” Kahlan asked.

“After I killed her.” Hally offered.

Cara, ignoring the two of them spoke directly to her newest pet. “We are going to ask you questions, and when we do you will answer quickly and honestly. Each second you hesitate I will give you pain. Each lie? I will break a bone. Is that understood?”

The Sister looked up at Cara.

She waited a second.

As Cara knew she would. They always did. The first second.

In the thickening sky, in the quiet of the woods everyone head the crack as Cara mentally broke the first of what could be many ribs, merely by thinking of doing so.

“Cara.” Kahlan hissed with the sound of shock in her voice.

But Cara did not turn to look at her. Instead her eyes looked very seriously at the Sister, who nodded through the tears running down her face. “Yes! I understand.”

“Good. Why did you attack us?”

“We have been commanded by our Mistress, to hunt you out and destroy the Lord Rahl.”

“Why?”

“The bond protects the people from our Mistress’ reach. With no Lord Rahl, the bond will be no more and she will have access to every mind in the New World.”

“And who is your Mistress?” Kahlan asked.

The Sister almost hesitated, but didn’t. “The wondrous Six.”

“Who?” Cara asked.

“Where is she?” Kahlan asked.

“Coming soon. She was on her way when last she spoke to me.”

“How does she speak to you?”

“Through our dreams.”

“Did she say Six?” Shota demanded.

Kahlan looked at her, “Do you know this… Six person?”

“By reputation only.” Shota confirmed, but there was more she was not saying. “Most true witches and sorceress don’t congregate together, unlike the Sisters of the Light or Dark, we prefer our privacy.”

“Competition sometimes drives one to better themselves.” Cara offered.

“That may be the case of Sister of the Light, and” she looked pointedly at Cara, “Sisters of the Agiel. But in those who are truly powerful it breeds mistrusts and eventually someone dies.”

Cara pursed her lips, because in all honesty she could not argue with that point.

She heard the sound of skin on skin, like a slap and turned around swiftly to look at the Sister of the Dark. But she looked untouched. Then Cara heard it again, and realized it was not the sound of a slap but of a pop. And no one else seemed to hear it. The third time she felt a strange flood of nausea rising through her mind and the rage she contained, the true, pure, and unadulterated rage of the Mord–Sith began to boil under her skin. Lowly she heard a growl and realized it was her own voice, issuing a keening sound from her chest.

“Cara?” Kahlan’s voice seemed far away suddenly, and she tried to focus her eyes on her, to see those kind blue eyes.

As Cara moved her eyes up, she saw those beautiful eyes, and watched as Kahlan looked at her, and her eyes expressed contempt and horror suddenly. “Kahlan?” she whispered, not sure why Kahlan was looking at her with such hate.

“Your eyes are black Cara.”

“Well hello there Mother Confessor. So nice to finally have a face to put to the words all those prophecies spoke of.”

Cara heard a new voice speaking, but could not turn her head; she could do nothing but drop to her knees and feel the pain that moved through her entire body, filling her. It was as if someone took the rage she possessed as a Mord–Sith and multiplied it by a hundred, and then multiplied that by a thousand. Her body literally vibrated with the overwhelming mass of power moving through her body.

* * * * *

Kahlan watched in horror as Cara’s eyes turned completely black, before they went white, and she dropped to her knees. Glaring Kahlan looked to the Sister of the Dark who moments before had been crying in pain, but now looked at ease and somewhat haughty.

“My how you are so human looking, when I thought for sure you would be so much more ethereal.” She smirked. “Oh look. Your little Mord–Sith seems to be having a hard time dealing with my power.” She laughed.

“Kahlan. Six. Is inside this woman.” Shota said in a worried whispered.

“What is it you want?” Kahlan asked, trying not to look at Cara, or show her concern.

“Want? I want what everyone seems to want. I want YOU Kahlan Amnell. I want you to be kneeling before me. I want you to do my bidding.”

“That will never happen.”

“Never say never.” The Sister, or Six inside of her, smiled. “With you and your power? I will rule everything. So I am coming for you. If you want the people of the New World to live and prosper? You will surrender yourself to me. If you want to watch them all die horrible deaths? Then try to keep hidden as you have been. I will kill them all, to get to you.”

Kahlan had the overwhelming urge to smack the smug look from her face, as well as wrap her fingers around her neck. She wondered though, if she tried to confess someone who was bound to Cara through the taking of magic if she would in advertently confess Cara as well.

She would not risk it.

“Why?” Kahlan asked.

“Why not.”

Cara moaned and fell over suddenly.

Shota leaned closer to her. “Kahlan? Cara cannot contain Six’s power.” She looked sharply into the eyes of the witch woman. For all the tricks, and all the riddles, there were times when Shota was straight forward and true. Her eyes conveyed that this was such a time.

“No. One little Mord–Sith cannot. I am surprised she hasn’t died yet.”

“You will never have me.” Kahlan took a step closer to the kneeling Sister. “Nor will you have the New World. You say you are coming for me? Well, Six, whoever you are? I am coming for you. I, Kahlan Amnell, Mother Confessor, Queen of D’Hara, am coming for you, and I will kill you. Personally.” She swung her sword, taking the head from her shoulders. For an instant, as the head moved through the air, it’s mouth still moved, the air filled with its laughter, and was punctuated by Cara’s screams.

With a thud the head landed on the ground, the laughter and Cara’s screams silenced.

* * * * *

There had been bodies filling the streets of the small town as she moved through it. While it seemed as though she had missed the siege there were still plenty of spoils to be had.

A nearly dead soldier, sitting up against a rickety wall, his hands holding in the contents of his body looked up at her with wide eyes as she blocked the sun that had been pounding down on him.

“Please.” He has moaned.

She helped him.

With a slice of a dagger across his throat.

The feeling of taking a life was not new to Rikka. What was new was the feeling of elation at doing it, at feeling strength returning to her limbs, of feeling her blood becoming liquid again and moving through her body. She stretched, cracking her back and then neck, before regarding the man as he lay dead. He would have died during the course of the night. And still his death had given her something. Rikka did not like this new feeling inside of her chest. It was almost joy at the kill. Joy during battle? When one takes the life of the enemy? That was acceptable. But this man was not the enemy. He was fodder. He was a means to an end. That was not something to take pleasure in.

She moved through the butchered bodies that filled the streets of Horner’s Mill, seeing the dead. Men, women, children. Age did not matter it seemed to the Imperial Order. They moved through the town like a swarm. Not a window was unbroken, buildings burned, stores looted. And the citizens of Horner’s Mill were all dead.

This was not war. This was murder.

Rikka moved into one of the stores, and inside removed her leathers. They were ruined, she knew, but more than that, she felt that she no longer had the right to wear them. What they symbolized; protector of the Lord Rahl, personal guard, and giver of life was no longer something Rikka could claim. Instead she stripped the dead inside the store and dressed in their drab dresses, worn boots, and then, with a sigh, cut her long braid very short. She knew enough of the Midlands to know this was the best way to move through their people undetected. And she needed to do just that, and to hurry. Now that she had caught up to the Imperial Order, she needed to bypass them and get to the Mother Confessor.

As she left the town, Rikka could not help herself, as her legs moved her towards the smoke and the noise of the Imperial Order’s camp. She knew she should keep moving, but she needed to see more, to get in the middle of their madness. Because she could see that the camp itself stretched from one end of the horizon to the other. Night was falling and she was sure that no one would notice another filthy person moving through their ranks.

* * * * *

“Hally, why isn’t she waking up?” Kahlan asked, looking down at Cara.

“Oh, she is awake. She is just in that in–between place.”

“In–between?”

“There is a shock to the system when the pet is killed instantly like… um the Sister was. When that happens we usually feel this sort of numb headache for a moment and we drift, between reality and what one could call our dreams? Between waking and sleeping. But only for a moment.”

“It has been many moments.” Kahlan stressed.

“Well.” Hally was trying, Kahlan could see that, and still she did not know what to do to make Cara wake up. This was become a habit of her mate, being unconscious. And it was a habit Kahlan did not like.

“She may just be in shock, Kahlan.” Shota said, coming to sit beside them and the newly lit fire. With Cara being unable to move, Kahlan decided they would camp just off the road.

“Why?”

“I can only assume, but I believe she took in both Subtractive Magic and Additive Magic from the Sister of the Dark. And I would assume some of Six’s magic as well. Mord–Sith were initially made using both Subtractive Magic and Additive Magic, but Subtractive Magic is not normally found in the world. When once all magic had both sides? Generations ago Subtractive Magic ceased to be. When the Keeper managed to gain a hold in this world, he bestowed Subtractive Magic on the Sisters of the Dark.”

“So perhaps it is this unfamiliar magic in Cara that caused this?”

“I am sure she just needs time to wake. From what I know of Mord–Sith? It would have been very difficult to hold that much Subtractive Magic and Additive Magic inside. But Cara does not seem to be an ordinary Mord–Sith. So I am sure she will be, fine.” Shota said kindly.

Kahlan was not sure if she believed her.

* * * * *

As she moved through the camp she was shocked not only by the massive size of the Imperial Order’s army, and all of the hangers on, but also how almost animalistic they acted toward one another. There were fights, stabbings, rapes, and thievery. Rikka felt as though she were walking amid wild animals, not human beings.

They seemed only concerned with food, with the killing and what they could pillage from each town or village. She did not see order. She did not see any officers or any men in uniform. Just a rag tag bunch of mammoth men and women, filthy with hints of madness in their eyes.

Up ahead of her she could see larger tents, and knew that she was nearing the center of the chaos and madness. Rikka was aware that she was getting too close, that she was pressing her very thin luck, but still she moved on, needing to see a little more. She had already learned some about how the army camped, and the odd hierarchy, but there could always be more to learn.

A hand wrapped around her waist and another over her mouth, and she went slack as she felt herself pulled between two tents. The hands on her relaxed and she turned looking up into dark and hazy eyes. Eyes of a drunk. A drunk who thought he saw an easy mark. And all the women in this camp seemed to fall into the category of property it seemed. He spoke to her in what she assumed was a language, though with the slurring and the stench of liquor coming from his lips she could be wrong. She did not have time for things such as this, and part of her now lamented killing the nearly dead man in the town. This large man before her was a much more suited sort to be delivered to the Keeper. His hand reached for her breast, but it slipped away, his eyes blinking.

“Your throat is slit. You may want to see about that.” She snapped, and then pushed him away. She knew that even through the haze of intoxication he would be falling to the ground and suddenly realize there was something wrong. But only for a moment, before he died. Without looking back, Rikka moved between the tents, making her way closer and closer to the largest one she could find.

And finally she noticed men in uniforms. Thick black leather bands across their wide chests, thick pleated leather kilts around their waists. Certainly the uniform of men used to fighting in arid temperatures. Part of her lamented the loss of her leather, just for a moment, and then she moved silently behind the tent they guarded. If she knew anything about guarding the Lord of a Kingdom she knew two guards in front. Four in back, and inside the tent, away from the eyes of attackers, would be a ring of protection. Which was fine. Rikka wasn’t here to kill that sorceress. Not yet. She just wanted to listen.

* * * * *

“Kahlan.” The sound of her voice being moaned brought her out of her restless sleep. Slowly she opened her eyes, and felt before she saw the way Cara twitched in beside her. She looked to the blonde and saw her lips turned in pain, and then she noticed the trails of dried tears on her cheeks.

“Cara. It’s okay. I am here. Shh. it’s a nightmare. I am here. I love you.”

“Kahlan. You.” Cara swallowed. “You shouldn’t. You won’t. Oh spirits protect me, you won’t you will leave.” Cara sobbed, still trapped in sleep. “I disappointed you.”

Kahlan wrapped her arms around her, wanting to wake Cara, but also fearing the worst if she did. Instead she held her tighter, pressing her lips to her forehead, and whispered again that it was alright, and that she loved Cara more than life.

* * * * *

Cara was sitting away from the camp. Away from the light, away from the sounds of the fire’s cracking and the sleeping bodies around it. She held her hand out, and watched in the moonlight as her fingers shook, her fingers had never shaken like this before. Not after a beating, not after training, not after a fight. Not even after the first night she knew Kahlan’s kiss.

In that dingy inn, after the kiss that reached to the core of herself, after she was left alone, standing there in that room and Kahlan nearly ran from her, as she lifted her fingers to her lips and felt them swollen from the intensity, and felt her heart thundering in her chest. In that room where she had a moment of clarity, where she knew that her attraction to the Confessor was so much more than lust, so much more than merely wanting to best her in a game of words. Cara had not shaken then as she did now. Now, her body trembled, and she felt weak. Weak and terrified, because something innately told her that things had changed. Somehow, somewhere, things were different.

They could have changed as they played their word games as they searched for the Stone of Tears. They could have changed when Cara realized she loved Kahlan. They could have changed when she saw the beauty of the Night Wisp. A thousand moments where her heart had swollen and grown, where it had learned to beat again, and she had discovered that there was goodness in her. And yet, to Cara, all those moments were an evolution of who and what she was and could be. The promise she dared not acknowledge. Hope that she and Kahlan could be. That she could know that elusive emotion called love.

Now what had changed was the look in Kahlan’s eyes. Cara was terrified that somehow and some way the escalation of love and hope had ceased, and now she was left with the frightening prospect of losing Kahlan’s love. That in a moment, on little moment, when the dark moved inside of her, as she felt the touch and the power of the Sister of the Dark and of Six, that Kahlan had seen something inside of Cara, that darkness she wished to banish, and in seeing it Kahlan’s heart had turned.

Cara watched, as her hand trembled in the moonlight.

“Cara.” The voice was familiar and she could not help but wince. She could not look at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Cara’s eyes turned, to see Kahlan standing there, her face emotionless, expressionless, and her skin the glorious color of silver. Her eyes brilliantly blue.

“You’re shaking.”

Cara blinked once before looking away.

“Please. Tell me.”

“I saw how you looked at me.” Cara sighed not wanting to speak. But Kahlan always managed to get her voice to emerge, when she did not want it to.

“How I?”

“Something happened.”

“You were possessed.”

“No. It isn’t so simple.” She chanced a look to Kahlan and it made her heart feel like breaking, to think that those eyes would never look at her the same. To think that she would turn away from her.

“Is this because of the dream?”

“What dream?”

“Earlier. You were having a nightmare…and I.” Kahlan dropped to her knees beside Cara. “I told you it would be alright… I told you I loved you.”

Cara winced then. And she knew it. Kahlan gasped.

“I… told you I loved you Cara, and you told me… I shouldn’t.”

“Maybe I was right.”

“No. Cara. No.”

She sighed. “I am different. Something is different now.”

“Please. Cara.” Kahlan’s hands cupped her cheek. “I love you.”

Cara met the wide blue eyes, and willed herself to believe, to have faith, to trust in Kahlan and her love. She willed herself, with all of her stubbornness and pride to believe and to know that Kahlan Amnell did love her.

Part 20

“I seem to recall, not too long ago you telling me stop thinking about what may be and to focus on what is.” Kahlan said softly.

“This is different. I saw… the way you looked at me.” Cara mumbled.

With a suppressed sigh, Kahlan took Cara’s face in both of her hands. The Mord–Sith’s eyes were downcast, and Kahlan waited the few moments it took for Cara to lift her eye lids, for her blue green eyes which held sparkles of reflective starlight to look up at her. When they did she smiled, gently. “How would you react, in the midst of battle, to turn and see me with my eyes turning back and then white? How would you look on me if you saw the color drain from my cheeks and pain etch itself over my expression?”

Cara mumbled.

“What was that?” Kahlan asked gently.

“I would be horrified. And mad.” Cara said softly and more clearly.

“Seeing that, today? Cara I was horrified and I was enraged. My look? The one you saw? It was not directed at you. It was my instinctual feelings displayed on my face. When it comes to you? I am so very protective. I wonder why that is?” Kahlan’s thumb moved over Cara’s bottom lip.

“I feel strange. Conflicted. Angry and sad.”

“Shota, Hally and I discussed this, when you were… unconscious again?”

“Need to stop doing that.” Cara rolled her eyes.

“Yes. You do.” Kahlan leaned forward and set her lips to Cara’s. “What you are feeling? Probably a combination of the two sides of magic you took in from the Sister of the Dark, and from what we can tell? Through that connection you were feeling Six’s magic as well.”

Cara sighed in Kahlan’s hands.

“I love you.” Kahlan said softly.

She watched as Cara’s eyes blinked, and as they took on the shine of moisture. “I love you too, Kahlan.”

“It may just take a little time, for the magic in you to dissipate.”

“No.”

“No?” Kahlan asked, moving her hands over Cara’s shoulders, down her strong arms, to her hands, which she took and squeezed.

“Mord–Sith, once they take in another’s magic, and use it to control them? They always retain part of it. It may lessen? Especially if the one we took it from dies? But part of that magic always stays within us.”

Kahlan now understood a little more why Cara’s expression was so forlorn. She was fearful that whatever insecurity or unease she was feeling now would be permanent.

“I should have deflected the magic. I always have in the past.”

“Why didn’t you?” Kahlan asked gently.

“It was as if I had a choice? That I could deflect and send the magic back and I knew it would kill the Sister of the Dark. Or that I could… take it inside of me, and control her, and perhaps bend her to my will, to gain more knowledge.” Cara said slowly, as if in speaking she too was trying to understand exactly why she had not deflected the magic.

“You chose life.”

Cara nodded. “I suppose I did.”

* * * * *

“I am tired of your excuses! You should be strong enough to get through the bond and into the Mother Confessor! You are playing games little girl that you cannot hope to win!” The voice grated from inside the tent, before the sound of a slap, and the familiar thud of flesh hitting ground. Rikka held still and continued to listen, knowing that she was far too exposed where she was kneeling beside the massive tent, but not yet willing to move away.

A young girl’s voice, “Mistress, I am trying.”

“Not hard enough. Tomorrow, there is a series of underground mines we will be passing by, and we will see if they too have the power needed to do some casting. I was able to see who was with the Mother Confessor and the Lord Rahl. Perhaps I can sway some of their companions, now that I have gotten a good look at them. And if not? It will not be a wasted trip. I will be sure to increase my power over you.”

Rikka heard a soft whimper.

“Stop your crying. It is annoying. There is no need for tears. Not yet. If you continue with these emotional outbursts? Well, I will give you something to truly cry about, Jillian. Remember, I only need you alive. Not healthy or happily so.”

“Yes. Mistress.”

Rikka settled back on her heels and waited, as she heard movement from inside the tent, and then the familiar clinking of chains and iron shackles. She felt herself smiling. It was a curiosity, the things one’s mind remembered, that it locked away inside for safe keeping. Rikka had one such memory. The very first time she affixed and locked iron shackles around the wrists of another; Denna to be exact. At the time Denna was still in training, young and pliable. Quite soft and weak. In time she became one of the most vicious and emotionless Mord–Sith to ever serve Lord Rahl. Rikka felt a small spike of pride inside at knowing she played a very integral part in Denna’s breaking and evolution. They all thought that Denna would ascend through the ranks and become Lord Rahl’s most favorite Mord–Sith. Perhaps she had. Before she was swayed and ultimately became obsessed with the Seeker. It had been her down fall. The Seeker and the Mother Confessor had been the downfall of many Mord–Sith.

Rikka knew that she herself was included on that list.

Time continued to move forward, with Rikka sitting and waiting. A silence moved around her, as night thickened, as evening meals were concluded and revelry turned to exhaustion. Obliterating an entire town was exhausting it seemed, and soon the quiet of sleep surrounded her. Rikka moved around the side of the tent, to make her away from this place, when she noticed a very small cage, unguarded, and inside the curled figure of a child. That they would not even have one sentry watching over the girl was a testament to the sorceress’ arrogance.

Rikka moved closer, her senses on alert for the slightest movements. She wondered, if she got close enough to the cage, if her arm could reach through, blade in hand, and end the child’s life. She discovered that the bars were too narrow, too well spaced. While she could see inside, she could not get her arm through.

In the darkness, she could feel the weight of the girl’s black eyes on her.

“I… I know you. I have seen you before.”

“In your mind as well as in the flesh.” Rikka confirmed.

“I watched you die.”

“Death? Death is but a momentary set back child. For some reason you were not found early in life, otherwise I have no doubt you would have been taken and raised as Mord–Sith. Then you would understand.”

“Your kind took my childhood friend.”

“Then she became mine, if she lived.” Rikka’s eyes narrowed. “You obey that woman, but where does your allegiance lay?”

“Allegiance?” The young girl, Jillian, looked at her hands. “I am not an evil person, I merely… do… evil things. Because I must.”

Against her own stubbornness those words cut across Rikka’s skin, splitting her open like the sharpest blade. They were words she herself had uttered, when she would sit alone, looking at the blood coating her hands, after training others, after battles, after murderous errands for her Lord Rahl. Rikka knew all too well those words, and the conflicted emotions that lay within them. She nodded, and then her skin prickled, someone was coming. Her time here was over.

Rikka looked hard at the young girl. “I know that you are under the control of her magic. But, if you can, I suggest you chose sides. I must go.”

“Please?” The girl whimpered, but did not voice her plea. She did not ask Rikka to free her, though her face plainly expressed her wish to be free. Even with eyes as black as the darkest dungeon, her sadness could be seen.

“In time, I or my Sisters will come, and we will free you from this life.” Rikka did not add that in freeing the young girl she would become, more than likely, free of living.

* * * * *

A dark figure appeared in the distant horizon, looking as though, in her long black dress she was pulling the last of the day’s light into her. The stride was focused, the movements just enough, nothing beyond what was needed, and as she got closer, Kahlan noticed the glint of fading sun reflecting off of her blonde hair.

“Nicci.” Cara’s voice said softly beside her.

“What is she doing here?” Kahlan mused.

“With all that has been going on? What is she not doing here would have been a better question.” Cara replied, her gloved fingers locking together over the top of her long bow. Kahlan could sense that thoughts of the two of them hunting for dinner amid the tall grasses of this plain where gone. The others at the camp behind them would be fine with a meal of rice and beans.

Her eyes watched Nicci moved through the grasses towards them as the sun fell behind the Boundary Mountains, the sky turning a thick red. Kahlan felt her defensiveness, her guard rise, but her body was influenced by Cara, who seemed calmly inquisitive.

* * * * *

The Mord–Sith stood, her gloved hands on her hips, the long bow resting over her shoulder, and Nicci wondered for a moment why it was she did not feel the sting of the arrow in her heart as she walked over the thigh high grasses, as night fell around her. It was, almost uncharacteristic for the Mord–Sith to not attempt to harm her.

Nicci’s eyes narrowed as she looked over the blonde, and felt the familiar twinge of magic. Subtractive Magic. Though interesting, that did not explain why neither the Mord–Sith or the Mother Confessor had not made some move against her.

Perhaps Richard had already arrived. While unlikely, many things pertaining to Richard Rahl were unlikely. Such as his being a War Wizard, such as the way he asked Nicci not to leave on her own weeks ago, with actual pleading in his tone.

“Mother Confessor.” Nicci said hesitantly. Her eyes looked beyond the three of them on this small hill, to the far distance and the waning twilight she could make out the flicker of a camp fire.

“Nicci, why are you here?” The Mother Confessor asked.

Nicci smiled softly, her eyes returning to the tall and strong brunette, whose face was unreadable and whose eyes burned with intensity. “To see you.” The tension was rolling off of these two women, along with massive amounts of power. Nicci wondered if either of them knew exactly how much power they had, individually and certainly combined. “Interesting. You feel… powerful and yet.” She walked around Kahlan slowly. “Fractured. A little broken or on the edge of it.”

Cara took a step forward.

“Don’t.” Nicci warned.

“Why don’t you just use your magic on her? Like you did before.” Cara snapped, not stepping back, nor moving forward.

“Well that isn’t very nice. Trying to trick me? I am not some young idiot, Cara. I won’t use my magic against you, and I won’t need to.” Nicci flicked her wrist, and her dacra was in her hand. Not that she had any intent of using it; she merely wanted to prove her point. “I could simply slice her throat. Do you really want to see if I can move that fast?” Nicci met Cara’s stare, and she appreciated the way her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed tightly together. Cara was actually considering moving closer. Fortune did always favor the bold. Nicci nodded with a slight sense of acknowledgement, and her dacra slipped back away. Moving around the Mother Confessor, Nicci looked up at her calm face, feeling her energy and her magic, and then Nicci smiled. It did not reach her eyes, but it seemed feel genuine. “I don’t know how, and I don’t know why you did what you did.” She said to Cara. “But in doing so? You saved her. You saved the Mother Confessor, and probably have saved us all.”

“See, I told you. You are a hero.” Kahlan said to Cara.

“No. I’m not.” The Mord–Sith grumbled, crossing her arms.

The way the magic moved through and around Kahlan was uniquely fascinating. “I know you are Mord–Sith now. Or at least, enough to take a weak little man’s power.”

“A little bit is sometimes enough.” Kahlan said evenly.

“How do we know this isn’t some trick? That you are here on your own volition?”

Nicci nodded, and as she came to stand in front of the both of them, she clasped her hands and relaxed her shoulders. “Six nor the Dream Walker can haunt me anymore. I have.” She stared hard at Kahlan. “Given my devotion to Lord Rahl.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. As have Richard and the Wizard.”

Kahlan crossed her arms, and her right eye twitched, slightly. “What do you know about Richard?”

“Perhaps more than you.” Nicci goaded, looking for a change in the Mother Confessor’s expression, looking of a sign of perhaps jealousy. There was a feeling inside of her that could be related to joy, when she saw no such look. That instead of seeing jealousy, she watched as Kahlan looked to Cara. Wordlessly and yet speaking volumes the Mother Confessor had just told Nicci that she did not care what Nicci knew of Richard, because Kahlan’s heart belonged to Cara alone. That was the reason for, and the intensity in her eyes as they moved across the Mord–Sith’s face in the span of half a heartbeat.

“I hate riddles.” Cara growled.

“It is not a riddle. It is a fact. I too abhor riddles. Richard and I headed north from the same place.” Nicci watched with an expressionless face as Kahlan’s eyes registered a slight squint. “He was to travel west into the Midlands looking for you, and I opted to come east.”

“You had a hunch that I would be traveling to D’Hara?” Kahlan asked.

“More than a hunch. In fact I knew exactly where you were.”

“There are no tracer clouds following us.”

“Oh, I don’t need such simple magic. No. Darken Rahl keeps me abreast of your location.” Nicci smiled as Cara pulled her Agiels, clearing doing so was instinct. “I don’t have a choice really. Each time I sit beside a fire he appears. Annoyingly.”

“You are not serving him?”

Nicci sighed. “I have no master but myself.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Well…perhaps I do have another master. For a short time, that is.” Her eyes stared hard at Kahlan, before she slowly moved to her knees. Both women looked at her with shock, and the color of mistrust on their faces. Not that it mattered. What mattered was doing this. Was reaffirming the bond. And part of Nicci remembered how it felt in that vast open plain to the south, where she had said these words the first time, and when she had felt, truly felt the wonder and majesty of protection and love. Nicci doubted she would ever truly understand why these words and devoting herself to Kahlan Amnell as the Lord Rahl produced such feelings inside of her; and understanding was less than important; to Nicci, what truly mattered was that she felt something, something much greater than herself. “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.” Her eyes looked up at the

Mother Confessor, open, and completely vulnerable. “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.” The Mother Confessor’s chin lifted slightly, her back pulling straighter, stronger. “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

* * * * *

“That must be so hard for you.” Kahlan looked at her as she stood, her brows rising. “Hating me as you do, and still, finding that you have to kneel before me. And devote yourself. And mean it.”

“I don’t hate you; I don’t feel anything for you. For any of you really.” Nicci corrected, and ran her hands over her long black dress. She looked regal. That was the description Kahlan had felt as they stood watching as Nicci walked towards them. She had come, completely alone, without fear or hesitation and had walked up to the both of them, her eyes looking drawn and tired, but focused.

“Then why are you here?”

“To warn you.”

“If you do not care, then I do not understand why you would bother with warning us?”

“Let’s just say I am interested. As to how things will evolve.”

Cara’s arms crossed over her chest. Her posture was one of false calm. She would be ready to move the second it was warranted. Though, Kahlan did not feel any danger from Nicci. She knew she was powerful, and she knew that if she wanted to, as she claimed, she could have attacked them. That she had not, and that her whole demeanor seemed to be one of composed disinterest put Kahlan slightly at ease. Not that she trusted Nicci. No, she would be careful, and watchful. Much in the same way she was around Shota. She respected both women for their power and their tenacity, and much in the same way that one moved around a wild animal, she would be mindful that neither woman was tamed, merely allowing these interactions for the time being, for as long as it seemed to suit their needs.

“Your army is half a day away. I skirted them as I came here.”

“Why not join them and await our arrival?”

“Oh, being surrounded by an army, no matter whose army it is? Does not appeal to me. No. My focus has been on you, Mother Confessor. On finding you.”

Walking into the ring of light set by the campfire, with Nicci behind them sent tremors through the group for a moment. Hally, her usual self, had her Agiel in her hand, and looked very ready to move forward and use it, while Captain Ryan sat beside the fire. He had learned over the course of their journey that if he needed to be on guard someone would be screaming, blades would be drawn, or the Mother Confessor would ask him. Orsk seemed to be of the same mind, as he sat sharpening his swords’ blade. Kahlan wondered, not for the first time if she had inadvertently confessed Captain Ryan, because the two large men, so very different, seemed so much alike as the journey progressed. To the point that she was quite certain she had noticed the two of them sharing smiles, and even joking from time to time.

One would never have imagined a Captain of the Aydindril Home Guard to be enjoying the company of a D’Haran assassin. But, as Kahlan well knew, sometimes when on a journey you learned to allow your preconceived notions, your bias and your bigotry to wash away, and you allowed yourself to see others for what they truly were. That had been the case when traveling with Cara in the very beginning.

Not that she expected Orsk or Captain Ryan to evolve into anything but a cordial friendship. It was still, fascinating to Kahlan.

Aside from Hally’s reaction, Shota lifted her eyes and glared openly at the other woman. Kahlan thought she almost heard a slander muttered under the Witch Woman’s breath.

“Hally it is alight.”

“She is sending sparks all the way to the stars.” Hally protested.

Kahlan blinked. While she was Mord–Sith, it had been months since she had looked at someone in the way she had that first night, dressed in leather, her skin warmed with the oils that increased her abilities. She looked at Nicci, just from her peripheral vision, and indeed, there were sparks and arcs of power lifting around and above her.

“I know.” Kahlan confirmed, and received a surprised look from Nicci. Kahlan turned back to Hally. “It is alright.”

Hally sighed and slammed her Agiel away. She was not pleased, but she would not argue with the Mother Confessor. Certainly not in front of Nicci.

Cara made a low sound, between a snort and a laugh, as she walked through the tension, and set her bow and arrows down beside her pack.

* * * * *

“I thought I felt a thief.”

“Better to be a thief and have power, than to be a weakling hanging on the fringe.”

“Please. The likes of you does not frighten me. In fact you are nothing but a passing annoyance.” Shota added.

“Look closer, Witch. See that I am much longer than a moment.”

Shota’s jaws clenched, and she turned sharply away from Nicci, glaring at Kahlan. “I don’t trust her. And I refuse to sit here and be ridiculed.” She gathered her long dress in her hands and rose.

“Where could she go?” Hally asked Cara.

“Do you really think that I know?” She retorted. “Shota? Sit.” Cara commanded.

The Witch glared at her.

“It is dark. I do not want to spend the night looking for you. Sit. Down.” Cara made sure that her voice was hard enough that it left no room for argument.

Shota relented and sat back down, her flowing gray dress and the white fur around her, moving for a moment as if she were in the center of a wind. It all twirled and then settled. One last showing to Nicci that she too was more than she appeared.

Cara wanted to think it strange, to be sitting around a small cooking fire, the Mother Confessor across from her, a Witch Woman on one side, and a once Sister of the Dark on the other. Yet after all she had seen, experienced, and been privy to over the last two years, this did not faze Cara in the slightest. In fact, she felt as though they needed even more members of their odd collective sitting here and then it would still feel correct. Add in Richard pacing behind Kahlan, and Zedd stirring the pot of food beside Captain Ryan and it would seem, in all of its insanity, familiar.

She felt herself smile, as she was fairly sure that it would not be too long before that vision in fact became a reality.

* * * * *

“There is an army coming from the south.”

“The Imperial Oder.” Kahlan said, as she set down her small bowl, now empty.

The massive man with one eye reached around the Mother Confessor and took her bowl as well as spoon. He was certainly an impressive looking monstrosity, and Nicci wondered if he was as quick with his knives as he seemed to be in clearing soiled bowls and handing over water skins.

“You know then.” Nicci said, setting her empty bowl into the hand of the man, her eyes noticing that he wore more blades than Richard’s friend Chase, and the moonlight reflected off of the large axe blades strapped to his back. He may be confessed but there was still something below the surface of that man which made Nicci decide that he would be the one she would keep the closest eye on. He stepped away from the group, to the small pebble lined stream that ran beside this camp, and began vigorously rinsing and washing their dishes.

“Yes. And we have had a visit… from … Six.”

“Ah.” Her head turned back to the Mother Confessor at hearing that. She had not expected Six to be so bold as to make her presence known. Then again, from what Nicci recalled of the witch she was never very patient.

“We know all about the army, Six, and the Dream Walker.” Cara said sharply. “So I am wondering what it is you think you have to offer.”

“The army will be sure to capture all of your scouts, so you will never truly get an accurate understanding of their size or where they are going. You will merely know where they have been. It will be an easy feet, merely follow the dead bodies and scorched land.” Nicci began. “The Imperial Order, it follows Six, as she is married to the Emperor Jagang. But the Imperial Order itself is almost beyond her control. The Imperial Order and its army has been moving through the Old World for so long, that it is in and of itself a thing. An ideal. A focus. Six is at the helm now, and she is using their size and power for her own gains but know this, the Imperial Order is massive.”

“The army of D’Hara is massive. I would like to see this force from some Old World best them.” Hally said, and Nicci noticed that she said it with intense pride, even though as her words were released her face turned to the man beside her and her eyes held remorse.

“Let me make this simple enough for a Mord–Sith to understand.” Nicci lifted one of the pebbles from the ground. “This? This little pebble? This is the whole of the New World. Right here. In my hand.” She gestured to all the pebbles between them and the small stream to the left. “That? That is the Old World.” And then Nicci turned to the right, where the amount of pebbles was easily ten times greater than the Old World. “And that is the rest of the world. So many millions of people and places. Things you could not possibly even imagine.”

“You lie.” Cara snorted.

“Why would I?”

“She is telling the truth Cara.” Kahlan confirmed.

* * * * *

The fingers that moved through her loose hair, yanked her head to the side, painfully straining her neck and woke her from the delirium she had been floating in. Slowly she opened her eyes, and found staring back at her the enraged eyes of Triana.

“She is not here. She had not even bothered to reply!”

“I merely write the words. That she does not respond to them? Says much more about you, than it ever will say about me.” Berdine grumbled.

Triana slammed her head back into the stone wall, and the pain that echoed through her skull was slight. It could not reach past the pain that seemed constant in Berdine’s legs or her starved stomach.

“Lord Rahl grows impatient. And I grow bored.”

“And I am hungry. We all have burdens to bear.” Berdine smiled, before the fist connected with her mouth. She hoped her teeth had managed to bruise the frustrated Mord–Sith’s knuckles.

“You see if you can get her to be more cooperative.” Triana ordered, moving away from her, and Berdine blinked away sweat and blood, to see the Wizard Neville, standing there, holding a long leather switch in his hands. His thin lips were pulled into his boyish smile. Berdine refused to look away, even has his eyes moved over her naked body with predatory intent.

“Oh, don’t worry Berdine. I won’t bother raping you. Those desires have already been quenched today.” She winced, and then sighed as the long switch met the skin across her stomach. “Though I am in the mood to watch you bleed.”

“Just don’t kill her.” Triana sighed. “Anything else, fine. Just don’t kill her. Not yet. Not until Cara is here.”

“I will make her whimper and beg for death.” This time the blow struck across her thighs, burning with the odd sensation of cold. He had used magic again on the switch, which he seemed to be doing more and more, as though he preferred the reaction the magic brought out in her skin, they way it hurt far more than a simple lashing. Of course he would need to use magic to truly slice through her tolerance for pain, to make her feel anything more than annoyance.

“You are but a man. You could never make me beg.”

“Hm. Let’s try?”

* * * * *

“Six uses the gift of artistry.”

“Bah!” Shota grumbled, and Nicci could not help but look at the Witch Woman, her brows raising with interest. While she was very powerful, but not as strong as Nicci. Her gift was muddled and restrained by what she could squeeze from the elements and from nature. The simple difference between witches and sorceresses really. One had power from birth, or added to by theft, while another pulled power from the elements and from the living creatures.

“I know that there are some familial bloodlines in the Midlands who have that ability, but generally their power is weak, and cannot move across wide expanses. They could not, for example, cast and artistic spell in the foothills of Tamarang and expect it to reach Aydindril. And certainly it could not reach into D’Hara.” Kahlan said. Nicci was impressed by her knowledge, she was glad she would not need to spend the entirety of the evening explaining what artistry was to the Mother Confessor as she had to Richard.

“Six’s power is far greater than those you have come across here in the New World.”

“So you say.” Shota snapped.

“Including present company; Shota I believe that Six’s power far exceeds yours.”

“Oh? And what about you? Nothing more than a zealot you were, locked away in your magical Palace.”

Nicci looked at her hands, as she turned them over, as the firelight made her skin appear, if only by illusion of shadow, as old as she truly was. “I have taken the Han of many of my fellow Sisters, both Light and Dark. I have taken the Han of wizards as well. I have been bequeathed subtractive magic by the Keeper himself.” Slowly her eyes looked up at Shota, and she felt them burning a brilliant green and then white. “I would say that within me resides the Han of a hundred powerful practitioners of magic. So yes, Shota, my power is far greater than yours.”

“Greater than this Six?” Cara asked.

“Yes.”

“Then why do you not destroy her. Find her and kill her?” Cara wondered.

“What would I gain in doing such a thing?”

“Gain? Freedom, your life to live as you see fit.” Kahlan stressed.

“Perhaps it is not so easily done. Do you think, do you honestly think that if I were to simply kill Six that it would stop the coming army? Prevent the war? Anything that matters, that truly matters is not remedied simply. It takes time, it takes effort.”

Kahlan’s lips pulled into a warm smile, for just a moment at Nicci’s words. She watched as Kahlan’s warm blue eyes moved to Cara, her smile increasing and the blonde returned it. As if realizing what she was doing, the Mother Confessor shook her head and she returned her attention to Nicci. All the while Nicci was again fascinated by the way the two women interacted. They seemed to be connected and know what the other was thinking, as well as being considerate of the others feelings, or emotions. Just watching them over the course of the short evening, Nicci found herself doubting the prophecy as Darken Rahl relayed it to her. It did not seem possible that the Mother Confessor would betray the Mord–Sith.

“I do not understand why Six would care about the Midlands?” Kahlan did not address Nicci’s comment, and in doing so proved that she agreed. “If this Old World is so vast, what would we matter?”

“The Midlands don’t matter. Not to her. Don’t you see; all that matters to her is you?”

“Me?” Kahlan shook her head.

“A Confessor. A power beyond imagining. And that you are so very strong, the strongest of record only makes her want you more. You will be the ideal weapon. In a world as vast as this one, you, Kahlan, are the divining rod; you will be her tool for absolute control.”

“That will never happen.” Her voice was like ice, solid and containing layers of rage and conviction.

“I am glad to hear that. What matters more than you saying it? Your actions. Will you do whatever it takes to ensure that she does not win?” Nicci asked.

“Yes.”

Nicci nodded. She fell silent, and looked into the flames, wondering if Darken Rahl would decide to make an appearance. It was doubtful, he like to play games, and appearing before them all, standing as a spirit before the Mother Confessor and before Cara and telling them exactly what it was he wanted and needed, would not be playing the game.

She could feel the suspicious eyes on her, from everyone who sat around the fire, and she accepted their looks. They were well within their right to feel as they did. But she would share with them all of her knowledge of Six, of the Imperial Order, and of the Old World. The only thing she would keep to herself, keep silent on for now was the prophecy. It was better unspoken, to allow it to unfold.

The other Mord–Sith, Hally, and her devoted Captain both announced that they would take first watch, and proceeded to rise from the fire light. Nicci almost offered to them the knowledge that no one and nothing would come near the camp on this night. She could use her Han and reach out a hundred leagues, in all directions. The Mother Confessor’s army was close; as was Richard, but there was no other tendrils of magic, no other threats. Not even wild animals seemed to want to come near the group’s camp on this night. Still, Nicci held her voice. Some things in life were better experienced than told.

The man was sitting, his legs crossed, his eyes clouded. Clearly there was much that was not right with that man, and it was less to do with his current predicament, and more to do with whatever took place during his breaking. Nicci wondered, not for the first time, what truly happened to a human when their spirit was broken and then their soul was taken from them. She had seen countless men with their hope removed, who lived each moment in the servitude of the greater good of mankind. That was all the men and women of the Old World knew. That their life was not to be lived for their own prosperity. That their life was to be lived only for the betterment of all. Because they were wretched creatures capable of nothing but moving through the life granted to them by the Creator. If they denied selfishness, if they paid the price of hope and advancement then they would be assured a peaceful existence in the afterlife. Drefan’s eyes held a similar look to them. Living merely for the pleasure of another. To the betterment of all. Nicci’s head titled slightly as she regarded him, as his fingers moved through the small pebbles on the ground as he sat beside the small stream. He was a child, but not. He was a man with nothing to live for. He was the walking dead. She had never seen such a vibrant representation of it. It nearly shocked her. Seeing a human shell. Perhaps what was more shocking, was that Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor, the one whose legend preceded her, legends of her kindness her compassion; was the one who had completely destroyed him.

“Something interesting?” Cara asked.

Nicci moved her eyes from Drefan, the false Lord Rahl, and looked to Cara who was standing beside her, clearly having noticed her interest in the broken man. “Why is he still alive?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

She turned and regarded the hard faced woman beside her, noticing that when Cara looked at her it was with interest, interest in each of her movements. Interest that was merely there to pounder what move Nicci was to make next. Interest that at the heart of it was making sure she put herself between any harm Nicci could conjure, and the Mother Confessor. “He should not be alive.”

“He wasn’t tortured that much.” Cara shrugged.

“Without a soul, without free will? He is a shell. Nothing more.” Nicci clarified.

“Isn’t that what you told us the Imperial Order wants? A world populated by slaves? Shells?”

“Yes.” Nicci said. “But the flaw in the plan is that, while the Imperial Order separates man from their selfishness, while it hammers into their minds repeatedly that their life is to be lived for the betterment of all… they still have that small kernel of hope. This man? He has no hope.”

“Nor should he.” Cara replied with irritation.

“He is your Lord Rahl.”

“By chance alone. He was only Lord Rahl because of circumstance.”

“And Richard?”

“Richard could have been the Lord Rahl.” Cara sighed. “What does it matter?”

“Perhaps it doesn’t. Perhaps it is just interesting to me. That Kahlan Amnell would do such things.” Nicci shrugged.

“These things? They were not done lightly.”

Pressing the matter, Nicci looked up at her and spoke honestly. “You could have taken his power, Cara.”

Cara looked away, looking as if stunned by the truth of her words.

* * * * *

Hands settle on her shoulders, and she knew they belonged to Kahlan. They had a specific feeling to them, one that her body knew intimately. Cara did not flinch or move away. Looking through the morning light as it increased, she smiled, the tiniest of smiles as she felt Kahlan’s body against her back, as she felt the soft cheek pressed to her own.

“How are you feeling?” Kahlan asked, her voice soft, low, as the others slept in the camp around them.

“The same.”

The hands moved from her shoulders, and Kahlan moved to face her, yet Cara kept her eyes on the distant horizon. “Just the same?”

“Confused, conflicted. Want to beat on someone.” Cara sighed. “The same.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Cara asked.

“I do. I know that drive, that need very well.”

Cara turned slightly so that she could look at Kahlan’s clear blue eyes. “Yes, you do know, don’t you?”

Kahlan nodded. The months battling with the Mord–Sith within, Kahlan’s expression had always been tight, her eyes hinted at the turmoil within, but while her eyes looked tired, the stress was not there. Her face did not seem as hard.

“How are you now?” Cara asked.

“Oh no. I am asking about you, you cannot just turn this around to me.”

“I can. I just did.” Cara stressed.

“Cara.”

Her eyes turned stubborn.

“Fine.” Kahlan sighed, for the moment giving in. “I am feeling good. Clear headed. The bond with Drefan is very faint, but still there, between us. I can feel his emotions; hear his thoughts from time to time. But he has been… quiet lately. Not thinking much. Perhaps… perhaps Nicci was right, that I did break him.”

“He deserved it.” Cara said.

“Did he?”

Cara shrugged. “My Agiels still pulse with power. When I close my eyes? My soul knows you are Lord Rahl.”

“Soul?”

“Perhaps my soul knows you are Kahlan Amnell, but that part of me that will protect and obey the Lord Rahl? Whatever part that is? And I will not admit it is magic, by the way. So whatever the part? It knows that you are my master.” Cara smiled, matching the one that moved across Kahlan’s lips. “Or rather, my Mistress.”

Kahlan leaned closer, and set their foreheads together. “I was worried, I am worried. I do not want to… lose you.”

“You won’t.” Cara cupped her cheek. “You won’t Kahlan.” The brilliantly light eyes staring back at Cara conveyed a thousand words, and a thousand more emotions. Seeing the look in Kahlan’s eyes made her body become aware of itself, of every nuance of her skin, and the air around them. Only and always this woman made her feel and sense things that she never believed to be possible. Even in her chaotic moments of doubt, there was a part of Cara that knew Kahlan loved her, completely. Closing her eyes slowly she pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss of promise, and of devotion.

Part 21

The sun had been moving behind the clouds all morning, coming out for brief moments, before retreating back to the safety of the light grey screen. As General Reibisch and Prince Harold road together at the helm of the massive combined army across the thick grass of the plains the sun did some out for a moment, causing both men to squint as they looked down from their horses.

“Mother Confessor. We are so glad to find you well.” Prince Harold announced, before sliding off of the back of his horse.

General Reibisch was slightly more formal, Kahlan noticed, as he dismounted his warhorse, his fist going to this chest before he bowed his head, “My Queen. It is an honor to see you again.”

“Thank you. The both of you.” Kahlan’s eyes moved over the expanse behind the two men, at the rows of soldiers, the horses, the wagons. It was an impressive sight, but one that caused Kahlan to wonder. If this army seemed massive to her, and it was merely a tiny pebble compared to the forces of the Imperial Order that were making their way north, could they find what they needed to win? Or was she merely leading all of these men to slaughter. The sun moved away again, and with the change of the light, Kahlan corralled her thoughts. “Have your men set up camp. There is much we need to discuss.”

“Aye, my Queen there is.” General Reibisch agreed, and moved back into the ranks to begin issuing orders.

“I take it you have received word from the south?” Kahlan asked Prince Harold, who pulled off his long ridding gloves.

“That is what has the General concerned. That we have not.” The Prince’s eyes, blinded for a moment by the sun that looked through the clouds above, squinted. “Your numbers have thinned.” He said, looking behind her at the small campsite, and those sitting around it.

“Yes.”

She watched as his face grew thoughtful, and he slipped his gloves into his belt. “Mother Confessor, we were worried for your safety, though General Reibisch assured me that as you travel with Mord–Sith you would be protected. There has still been concern, especially from Queen Cyrilla.”

“You have received word from her then? How is the Queen?”

“She writes daily, with news of the Council and some of the concerns that have arisen. She is well in body, troubled in mind.”

“Is that so?” Kahlan asked, her eyes turning hard, as the tone in Prince Harold’s voice was one of chastisement, and it had been a long while since anyone dared speak to her in such a way. In fact the last person she could recall who dared was Richard, and of course Zedd. From them she could tolerate the tone. From Prince Harold it grated on her nerves.

“My sister received your… delivery.”

“And?”

“They are being forwarded on to Nicobarese. The Council is not pleased with the actions of the Blood of the Fold, but do think you could have acted with a little more diplomacy?”

“Perhaps one should ask the members of the Central Council how they would have acted when in the midst of a battle,”

“I understand, but.”

“If you understand Prince Harold then you would know not to argue the point with me. A hand raised against me is a hand raised against the Midlands, and I will cut off that hand. Be it belonging to the Blood of the Fold, the Imperial Order, or your own. Do you understand?”

His face looked as though she had smacked it, and pursing his lips he replied with an admonished tone, “Yes, Mother Confessor.”

* * * * *

The bright shadow that of Cara was standing outside the ring of tents set up in the center of the mass of soldiers. Her eyes seemed to be looking everywhere and nowhere. She was clearly taking in the sights around them, much as Nicci had found herself doing earlier on the other side of the camp. Her mind had been automatically looking for weaknesses in the defense, watching for patterns of movement. It was second nature to her, after lifetimes lived in the pursuit of winning an undeclared war for Nicci. She believed it was the same for the Mord–Sith.

“Why are you not inside, with the others?” Nicci asked referring to the large tent where the Mother Confessor had entered with her Generals hours before.

“Is there a reason I should be?” Cara did not look at her directly, more like a slight glance, before her eyes resumed their scrutiny of the area.

“One would think you would be at her side, offering suggestions, or merely being there, along with her other Generals.”

“Talking endlessly bores me.” Cara set her hands on her hips, and then did turn her head to look pointedly at Nicci, which caused her lips to twitch in a smile.

“Does it now?” The Mord–Sith did not reply. Not that Nicci thought she would. “You are a General as well, you know.”

Cara made a snorting sound.

“You have her ear, and she listens to you. She trusts you and will follow your suggestions.”

“Are you saying this because you have come to impart some grand wisdom on me, the lowly Mord–Sith, to give to the Mother Confessor?”

“No, Cara. Merely making an observation and sharing it with you.”

This time Cara turned to face her completely. “You think that no one understands you. You think you are beyond and above it all.” She leaned closer, into Nicci’s personal space. “But what you crave? What you truly want? Is for someone to look at you with understanding. Someone to tell you that yes, they do know. They do understand.”

Nicci swallowed.

“While I am one such person? I will not bother to tell you. Because I do not trust you.”

“Even though you feel like you have to.”

“There is nothing I have to do.”

She looked at her, sincerely, because Cara was very correct. She did crave those moments. She knew that now. As she had felt that exact sense of peace, when Richard looked at her. When he understood her. As well as he could. Perhaps he would be one of the only people who could look at her and see beyond her darkness, beyond the mistress of death that she had become. “I have neither earned your trust, nor require it. Yet the knowledge I have? I know now, that in certain times and places? Sharing it is of value.”

“You sound like Richard.” Cara’s eyes narrowed. “Very much like Richard… so.” Cara’s voice stopped, but Nicci read in her expression more than words could convey. That she somehow knew. This woman was able to somehow tell that yes, Richard had told those words to Nicci, and that yes, Richard Rahl was Nicci’s one true weakness.

When Darken Rahl had haunted her, told her the he needed Cara, Nicci thought him more the fool than previous. But now? In witnessing the Mord–Sith, observing how she acted, how she thought, and feeling the power that she surprisingly possessed? Now it made so much more sense. Could these two very human and still very magical women truly be the salvation of the New World? And if so, could Nicci find it within herself to care enough to guide them to do so? Or would she just, in her apathy, allow the New World to fall under the iron fist of the Imperial Order and the ways of her homeland. To become what the Old World already was.

Cara’s voice startled her, as she had not expected her to speak. “You were a Sister of the Dark.”

“Ask me what you want to. Do not beat around my proverbial bush.”

Cara looked at her with a mixture of annoyance and mirth. “I know Mord–Sith deflect and take in magic, to control our … victims. But can I use this magic?”

“Ah Richard was right when he told me to be mindful of you.”

“Mindful?”

“He said that while you hide behind your stoic sarcasm, your mind is always working, thinking, deciphering, detailing and planning. I am glad to see he was correct.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think… I know what you are thinking… and yes. I think you can in fact do that.” Nicci said, mindful suddenly of the quad of D’Haran soldiers who were walking through passed them; close enough to hear their words.

“Hmm… we will see.”

“Yes, we shall, wont we Cara?”

“I do not trust you.”

Nicci smiled. “No. You don’t. I doubt you ever will. Perhaps that is wise.”

* * * * *

Kahlan watched from a distance but with the morning fog, everyone’s voices drifted to her. She felt almost like an interloper, but since Nicci’s arrival Cara had been acting strange, and this eavesdropping was merely Kahlan way of attempting to understand.

“Take these and send your fastest horseman.” Cara handed General Reibisch a small bundle of letters.

“As you command, Mistress Cara, it will be done.”

“Good.”

Nicci stepped up beside Cara, and Kahlan felt her skin prickle. She could not hear what Nicci said as she leaned towards Cara.

“It is done. I believe that in this? You may be right.” Cara snapped, moving slightly away from Nicci, and the momentary action did make the jealousy in Kahlan abate. If only slightly.

“Don’t act as though I am twisting your arm.” Nicci said.

“I am not.”

“You are as childish as he is at times.”

“Stop comparing me to Richard.”

“You’re right Cara, you are nothing like Richard.”

Kahlan had spent all afternoon and then most of the night in the large tent going over reports, books, ideas and maps with General Reibisch, Prince Harold, Captain Ryan and a few of the other officers. It seemed that not one of the scouting missions had yet reported back in to the Generals or the Queen. And what seemed to be making things worse was that Aydindril had not received its weekly letters from the cities of Horner’s Mill or Renwold. Both were cities in the south of the Midlands. While the Council believed the silence was due to the spring weather delaying messengers, Kahlan felt in the pit of her stomach that the reasons were far more ominous.

She still held out hope that when they arrived at the People’s Palace they would find Rikka and gain some insight. If anyone was tenacious enough to survive it would be that Mord–Sith.

While all her time was spent in the stuffy tent, Cara had not been at her side. It had felt strange, to not look up and see the blonde, nor to feel her presence close at hand. Seeing how Nicci and Cara were interacting, it became apparent that while Kahlan was looking for clues and knowledge, so was Cara. Though what the extents of the conversations between the two of them were, she did not know. She felt the spike of jealousy again as she stood in the distance, observing.

“I believed you, and if you are lying? There is little to no harm in what I have done.” Cara said evenly to Nicci.

“So short sighted. So focused on the now.”

“I am never just focused on that.” She stepped right up to Nicci, and if they were any other two people and if Kahlan was not completely convinced of Cara’s unwavering love for her, she would think they looked like lovers. “I am ALWAYS focused on the big picture.”

“You mean on Kahlan.”

“She IS at the center of the picture yes. And she always will be.” As the words came from Cara’s lips, Kahlan could not help but feel the swell of love and pride, and it forced away the dark nagging of misgiving.

Nicci laughed lightly. “Oh, of that I have no doubt, Cara. No doubt at all.”

* * * * *

“These pikes do not seem as though they can compete with the argon of the D’Haran forces. Perhaps we should have the D’Harans at the fore?” Hally asked Cara, as they looked over the long rows of armaments, as well as those items that were currently being forged by the dozen blacksmiths in this area of the camp.

Prince Harold had been overseeing the production of some of the newer weapons when Cara and Hally had come to look. Kahlan had asked for an honest report on the state of their weapons, and had asked Cara to have a look. With him sulking around, with his annoyingly conceited expression and the way he carried himself, Cara was more than a little annoyed. But he was the High General now, and she gave him a small amount of respect. But only the smallest amount. There was still something about him that bothered her.

“Well, you should see the armory we have in Ebinissia. Oh darling, there are millions of swords, daggers, pikes. All that a massive army could ever need.” Prince Harold said to Hally, smiling down at her.

“You don’t seem to have concern then for the size of the coming enemy.” Hally replied.

“It’s not size that matters, as you know I am sure, being petite yourself, but the strength and determination that you wield. That you have at your control.” The Prince explained.

“You are correct, in one regard.” Hally looked at him sharply. “Yet there is something to be said for a larger size, and the way that size is controlled. Isn’t that correct, Captain Ryan?”

Cara turned away, to hide her smile, at seeing the bright red color flooding Captain Ryan’s cheeks. Hally was a master at innuendo. And she gave that innuendo back to Prince Harold in spades.

* * * * *

Kahlan slipped inside of the small tent, and saw Cara sitting at the field desk, a book open before her, and her eyes were moving rapidly as she read. It was almost a reversal, usually Kahlan was the one sitting pouring over books and forms, letters and directives, with Cara watching quietly.

“Interesting reading?” She asked.

“Not so much.” Cara said softly, closing the book and turning on the stool.

She set her hands on Cara’s hips and looked into her eyes, seeing that they were clouded with thought. She was worried, but not overtly concerned.

“So, you and Nicci.”

“I do not like the sound of that. At all.” Cara teased.

Kahlan rolled her eyes. “The two of you seem to have come to an understanding?”

“She does something inappropriate? I kill her. I suppose you could call that an understanding.”

“Cara.”

“She is much more direct and forthcoming with information on magic than Shota. Or even Zedd for that matter. And I have questions.”

“What sort of questions?”

“Important ones.” Cara smirked, not giving an inch, and knowing Kahlan did not expect her to.

“Should I…” Kahlan’s fingertip moved down Cara’s neck, down the opening in her leather to between her breasts, Kahlan’s eyes following it before they flashed back up to her aqua eyes. “Be concerned?”

“Never.” Cara affirmed.

“Never?”

“I am yours, Mistress.” Cara said her voice low and thick suddenly with emotion and arousal.

“Mm.” Kahlan licked her bottom lip slowly. “I so love it when you call me that.”

“I know.” Cara blinked. “Mistress.”

“We have a tent.”

“We do.”

“A semblance of privacy.”

“Oh?” Car smiled.

Kahlan nodded, leaning forward and kissing her lightly. She felt, as though time was running out. Strangely it was a feeling that had been intensifying lately. That for some reason whatever calm they had felt was long since past, and that time would not be on their side. Feeling that sensation overwhelming her again, Kahlan kissed her urgently, and whimpered as Cara’s hands moved to her back, pulling her closer.

There were times when they kissed when it felt like the first time. It had a transformative quality to it, when her bottom lip moved tentatively over her own, as if, wordlessly asking permission, when she felt in that first slight touch her entire body catch fire, when her skin burned with passion, when her mind only knew one thought. That she loved her. This was a moment like that, as she felt that hesitant and honest touch of a warm supple lip on her own, when her body did burn and a faint sound broke from her mouth as her lips opened and moved with Cara’s. As she in turn touched her lips to her, as she swallowed the love she felt, and her heart began to flutter in her chest. She whimpered feeling the warm wet touch of the tip of Cara’s tongue on her upper lip, and her body pressed against Cara. Her own tongue danced forward, caressing lips, finding tongue, and they moved together, exploring, touching. The waves of emotion rolled through her body, giving her strength and sapping it from her in equal measure.

When they kissed like this, it was a dance of equality, it was ripe and plump with desire and love. Kahlan’s eyes rolled back and her fingers dug into Cara’s body, needing her closer, wanting to completely consume her. She needed to consume her. Hands itched to touch supple skin, her mouth felt the unquenchable thirst of needing to drink every drop of Cara’s essence as it flowed from her, her body burned needing to feel skin pressed to skin.

Cara’s lips moved away from hers, and with eyes fluttering open, she swallowed down the feelings of desires that flowed through every fiber of her being, and looked at the flushed face of her mate. “I…please.” Kahlan said softly. “Please Cara, I want you.”

Cara licked her bottom lip, as her eyes moved over Kahlan appreciatively. “Soon”

“Now.”

“Soon. I promise. I… will be back soon, and… then..”

“Then you will strip out of these leathers and let me touch you, let me feel your skin against my own.”

“Yes.” Cara’s eyes closed, and Kahlan watched her throat as she swallowed deeply.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

Cara nodded, her eyes slowly opening and burning with warm intensity. “That something is looming on the horizon? I have felt it for a very long time. Like all this, is just us stealing time.”

“Then don’t be gone too long?” Kahlan’s hand cupped her cheek, and her voice was sincere. “Please. Cara. For whatever reason I feel like I need you. Now.”

“I know, Kahlan. I know. I will be back. Rest some.”

“Rest? How will I manage that?”

“Just try… because when I come back? We will be together, we will herald the sunrise with our cries of passion.”

“You are so romantic.” Kahlan said meaning it, as she caressed Cara’s cheek with her thumb.

“I try.”

* * * * *

She dropped the book beside the Witch. It was the book that for one reason or another had been on Cara’s mind the entire journey, that she had been trying to decipher on her own, and had not been successful. Always in the back of her mind was the curiosity of what was so very important about this specific book. “Can you read that?”

“I can.” Shota replied without looking up.

“Have you?” Cara pressed.

“Why do you ask things when you know the answers?” This time Shota did look up at her.

“Apparently it is part of my charm.” Cara smirked. “Why? Why of all the things in the Keep were you interested in this book?”

“So that you would become interested in it.”

“I see. And coming to me, telling me that I should want to read this book would what? Been far too obvious?”

“Of course.”

Cara groaned slightly. “Is it not tiring to speak in riddles? Would you not rather be forthright?”

“I am what I am. I can be no more, no less.” Shota looked up at her. “Could you be one who only speaks in iambic pentameter or song?”

Cara blanched.

“So you see. We are what we are.”

“You try my patience.” Cara snapped.

“And you eradicate mine.” Shota said, as she turned away. “I have much more pressing matters to attend to this evening. Why don’t you question her? She seems more than happy to answer all of your idiotic questions.”

“I swear Witch, sometimes I wonder why it is you are even here, if not to drive me to the point of frustration.”

Shota smiled, before walking away, back towards the officers’ tents.

“Shota always is so helpful.” Nicci said as she walked past Cara, bent down and lifted the book in her hands.

“You have discovered that already in your short time here?”

“Yes.” Nicci brushed dirt from the book, and then opened it, her face growing hard.

Cara had considered asking the blonde about the book, but knowing Shota had been interested in it before lead her to the Witch first. Clearly a mistake. Cara was beyond frustrated. She had considered waiting until Berdine was back with her and safe, but there was that nagging telling her not to wait.

“Blood Oaths. They seem, archaic.” Nicci said.

“What does meus cruor est meus vinculum mean?” Cara asked, crossing her arms.

“My blood is my bond.”

She chewed her lip. “Shota said I need to know this book.”

“The Oaths more than likely. Have you ever given a blood oath before?”

“No.”

“You have.” Nicci corrected, and Cara looked at her. “I have seen the scar, across your palm and across the Mother Confessor’s. The joining? That was a Blood Oath. But those listed in this book are much older, and much more specific. Blood Oaths are very strong. Probably the strongest of all agreements. They are not to be entered into lightly, as even the slightest variation in the written oath will be completely binding.” Nicci said, looking over the words in the book again.

“Completely binding?” Cara asked.

“Yes.” Nicci looked up. “Do you wish for me to read this? So that I can better explain?”

Cara frowned. Could she trust Nicci? Or was this another one of those things where she would have to believe, have to take the leap of faith. “If you have the time.”

“Who do you wish to make the oath to?”

“Not me. Perhaps… have another make it.”

Nicci nodded. “Give me some time.”

“A day?”

“That will be sufficient.”

“Mistress Cara?” A D’Haran guard came up behind her, and she turned.

“What is it?”

The man held out a package. “Our most talented seamstress has been working on this for you, as requested as we traveled. She completed it and asked that I bring it to you.”

Smiling she took the package. “Thank her for me.” Cara knew the seamstress was terrified of her, and of any Mord–Sith, having suffered at one time at their hands. Cara had been thankful that the woman had agreed to fulfill her request. Cara was sure that it was more to do with the Mother Confessor than anything else.

“Of course.” He nodded.

“A seamstress and a smile from a Mord–Sith.” Nicci said with lightness in her voice. “A gift for the Mother Confessor I take it?”

“Now, why would you think that?” Cara smirked, feeling in better spirits. She was looking forward to seeing Kahlan’s face as he opened this particular package. Almost as much as she was looking forward to seeing her face as Kahlan moved above her. It had been too long, and the lingering ache inside of her was still present from the kiss that they had shared earlier. Cara had been loath to leave her, but now that she felt as though she had a little more understanding of at least the possibility of this spell, she felt as though she could relax enough to spend the night in Kahlan’s arms. In fact, just thinking about doing so was making her skin burn with the delicious prospect of feeling of Kahlan’s hands on her naked skin.

* * * * *

“Oh… Cara.” She moaned, feeling the hands holding her shoulders down, as lips kissed her in a deep, possessive and hungry way. “I guess I did fall asleep. Spirits I love when you wake me like this.” Teeth knocked against teeth in a haphazard and aggressive away, and Kahlan blinked sleep from her eyes. She had lay down under the thick furs in their tent, wearing only her shift and undergarments in the hopes that Cara would not be gone long. She was surprised that she had fallen asleep, but glad that the blonde was back.

“I never realized you could taste so sweet.”

Kahlan groaned, as Cara pulled her under garments down, as she pressed her face into her breasts, breathing in her skin. A finger moved into Kahlan roughly, without pretext or teasing. She did not understand what had come over Cara, why she seemed rushed. Usually she took her time, moving and exploring, teasing Kahlan to the point where she would find herself begging to be touched, to be filled by Cara’s eloquent fingers.

“Cara?” A low sound came from Cara’s face. Kahlan kissed her hair, feeling it tickling her nose.

“Shhh.” She hissed, and shifted so she was between Kahlan’s legs. The finger withdrew, and then their lips met again. Kahlan’s hips pulled away, as did her lips as she felt something unexpected between her thighs.

“What? Cara?” She demanded.

“This is what you wanted. This is what you need.”

“But… but how?”

“Does it matter? It is what you need.” Cara said in a rush of air, before Kahlan felt it again, and then felt the startling thrust, felt Cara filling her in a way that was not possible, and yet. Maybe she had found a way. Maybe she had been able to find some form of magic. Perhaps all of the time spent with Nicci was Cara attempting to find the way.

Kahlan, wrapped one leg over Cara’s hips, and pressed closer to her, feeling the swell inside of her. “Oh Cara. Is this real?”

“Yes. I am giving you what you need.” The thrusting increased, and Kahlan matched it, while trying to find Cara’s mouth, to see her eyes in the dark.

“Cara, please my love, look at me.”

A low angry growl came from Cara. Kahlan increased the thrusting of her own hips. If this was meant to be rough, if that was what Cara needed, then Kahlan would do just that. “Please. More. Please, give me”–

“What you need.” She felt Cara nod into her neck. “Don’t worry, darlin, I will give you what you need.”

“What?”

A hand moved over her mouth, silencing her and the thrusts became jerky, and something told Kahlan that this was wrong. It felt wrong. But still. Even if this was magic, if she could create life with Cara, it would be worth it. No matter if it felt wrong or off. If they could create a life together Kahlan would do anything.

“Almost… just hold still.” Cara groaned.

Kahlan licked the hand over her mouth, not understanding why Cara wouldn’t kiss her.

The hand pressed harder, the movement inside of her center rougher. “Stop it. Almost.”

Kahlan’s eyes narrowed in the dark. Her mind tore and she knew. As the rage exploded inside of her, she released every ounce of hate and love and darkness into whoever this was on top of her.

The body stilled, and she heard Cara’s voice say, “Command me Mistress.”

The horrified scream that broke from Kahlan’s lips as she shoved against the shoulders of what looked like Cara blinded her with their intensity.

* * * * *

The smile on Cara’s lips faded the moment she heard Kahlan’s scream. In her arms she had been carrying the delicately wrapped package containing her newest gift for her mate, and she dropped it, and ran. She ran as hard and as fast as she ever had, bursting through the flap of the tent she shared with Kahlan, her Agiels in her fists.

The sight before her brought her feet to a halt, and the air rushed from her body.

Kahlan was laying on the furs on the ground, her naked skin glistening with the sheen of sweat, and Prince Harold kneeled beside her, equally naked, his hands covering his face as he sobbed.

“Kahlan?” Cara’s voice whimpered, her eyes disbelieving what she was seeing.

“Oh Spirits! Cara!”

She blinked, twice, before she turned around and ran from the tent.

* * * * *

Kahlan rushed from the tent, leaving Prince Harold kneeling and sobbing, and burst into the night. The bitter cold snapped at her skin, causing her to remember that she was naked, and Kahlan did not care. The vision in the distance of Cara’s red leather storming away moved her forward, through the tents and gasps of the men.

“CARA!”

“Kahlan?” a voice said in shock from beside her and she turned to see Richard looking at her with his eyes wide.

“I have to stop Cara.”

“No. You have to.” He pulled the cloak from around his shoulders and draped it over her.

“Let me be.” Kahlan warned, knowing her eyes flashed dangerously at him.

“You cannot walk through thousands of men naked, Kahlan. You just cannot.”

“I will. I have to.”

“I will go after Cara if you like.”

“Stop meddling.” She slapped his hands away and rushed after Cara, pulling the cloak around her body, but it did not remove the cold from her bones, or take from her mind the look she saw on Cara’s face, nor the feeling of disgust that turned her stomach as to what her body had just done, just felt.

* * * * *

What if she wasn’t the one? What if every moment was just to fill time, to keep her occupied. “Damnit!” Cara slammed her fist into wooden post of the horse corral. She knew that wasn’t the truth. She knew deep down in the hidden places inside of her heart that Kahlan did love her… but still. The mere thought of Kahlan lying with someone else, and not telling her about it first, slit her heart, and she could feel it bleeding.

* * * * *

Cara was pulling a black stallion from the enclosure. It was already saddled. Kahlan rushed forward, standing between Cara and the horse.

“I thought… I thought it was you!” Kahlan pleaded searching Cara’s face, but she refused to lift her eyes.

A guttural noise came from Cara’s throat; her eyes remained looking down, even as Kahlan’s hands gripped her arms.

“It looked like you, talked like you, smelled like you.” The tone of hysteria was creeping into her voice, and Kahlan could not seem to stop it.

With a growl of emotion, Cara ripped her arms free of Kahlan, and then her gloved hands grabbed her shoulders, and she shook Kahlan, her eyes looking up at her, seeming to glow green with emotion and the redness as they filled with tears. “But did it FEEL like me?”

Kahlan looked away, ashamed and feeling sickened. It had not, and she should have known. She should have stopped everything at that moment.

“I thought not.” Cara hissed. “I know you want a child Kahlan. We have talked about it. So you doing this? I expected it. But.” Cara’s voice cracked, and Kahlan’s eyes moved back to her. “But I thought you cared for me enough to discuss it first. I thought you loved me and would… tell me.”

“I did not know.”

“There are certain qualities I certainly do not possess, Kahlan Amnell, so you knew damn well that I was not inside of you, not in that way!” Cara shoved Kahlan aside.

“Cara! I thought. Magic.”

“Magic.” Cara nearly spat the word from her lips. “I loved you…”

“No… Spirits no! Do not say that, don’t say it like that.”

“Perhaps there is nothing more to say.”

“Cara? Kahlan?” Richard’s voice interrupted as he came around the corner, and Kahlan watched as Cara’s shoulders fell, as her face lost all of its color. Slowly the blonde shook her head, and turned, shoving her foot into the stirrup and swinging her leg over the back of the horse.

“CARA! NO!”

“Kahlan, what in the name of the Creator is going on?” Richard asked.

Kahlan did not respond, she could not form words, and she knew that she could not. She knew that if she were to open her mouth the only sound would be a low mournful wail as she watched Cara climb upon the back of the black stallion, as she pulled harshly on the reins and as the night seemed to envelop her as the horse ran as if the Keeper himself was breathing against the haunches. She felt her heart cracking, felt the world tilting completely out of control underneath her feet.

* * * * *

Prince Harold was still on his knees, still naked, and still sobbing on the ground in her tent as Kahlan stepped inside, Richard on her heels. He had been trying to get her to talk the entire time they walked through the camp.

“You know Richard, there were times when I missed your company, missed how much at ease you put me. And our friendship. But now? As you will not shut up, I find I wish you had never returned.”

“You are out of sorts.”

“I am beyond being out of sorts.” She glared at him. “And my patience is VERY limited.” She spun around and glared down at the sniveling Prince. “YOU! How did you manage to look like Cara?”

“Shota provided me with a potion, a glamour. It made me look to you as you wanted me to look. Whatever you most desired, that is what I became.”

“Shota.” Kahlan’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Why come here and rape me.”

“He what?” Richard gasped.

“I did not, Mistress. You willingly took me to your bed.”

“Because you looked like Cara… tell me WHY Prince Harold.”

“You need an heir. I need to have assurances that I and Galea will have a place of high ranking in the Midlands.”

“There is a war coming, and one we may lose. Galea may be erased from all existence.”

“I know, my Mistress. An heir is needed; the line of Confessor’s must go on. I am the only one who could.”

“No. Not the only one. Not by a long shot.” Kahlan growled, and then yelled out knowing that by now one if not a dozen soldiers were outside her tent.“Captain! Find Shota. Bring her to me.”

Part 22

Cara pulled the horse beneath her to a halt and jumped off, waving away the two Elite Guards who stood on either side of the opening, before storming into the small tent.

Not surprisingly Nicci was sitting on a small stool beside the door, and in the corner Drefan was rocking with his arms around his knees. Cara did not know why Nicci was here, nor did she care at the moment. Nicci was a means to an end. And Cara was going to ensure that end was met.

Nicci looked up from the book. “I have only just started.”

“Give me your dacra.” Cara ordered.

“Why?”

“GIVE IT TO ME!” She screamed.

A look passed over Nicci’s face, while her arm moved slightly and the bright metal weapon was in her hand. Nicci tossed it to Cara who nodded and stepped before Drefan. He looked up at her, his blue eyes looking confused, clouded. As they had since the night she broke the quillions before Kahlan, when she returned to her more of the Confessors’ magic.

“I should have done this from the start, you bastard.” She slammed the dacra into his chest. He gasped, eyes going wide in shock. Using the magic still inside of her from the Sister of the Dark, Cara commanded his Han, his life essence and the bond that was the Lord Rahl into her own body.

She could hear Nicci moving away, and she didn’t care. All she cared about was taking this bond from him, and taking it from Kahlan. If Cara could not give her the child she desired, at least Cara could remove from Kahlan the burden of being Lord Rahl.

In deflecting magic Cara’s body would become hard, impenetrable, when she willed herself to take it inside of herself the opposite would happen. She would feel pliant and absorbent. Her fingers were still on the dacra, and through her leather gloves she could feel a burning cold, the same as if she had shoved her hand into a snow bank and left it there for hours. Within the cold there was pain, a pain that was new to her, that brought with it a torrent of images to her mind. Even with her eyes open she saw these images. It was as though her eyes saw Drerfan mouth slack, and at the same time she saw every moment of his short life overlapping. She saw a unremarkable childhood, saw moments of pleasure, saw Kahlan and herself through his eyes. She could taste blood in her mouth, but it was rancid, it was Drefan’s blood as his body broke. Amid all of this, the cold and the visions the power, the magic, and the bond etched a pathway from her hand, up her arm, traversing through Cara’s entire body before it hammered itself deep into her heart. She shook with the force of a hundred rusted nails hammered simultaneously into her chest as the power affixed itself to her, as it seemed to become permanent.

Like the snap of a taught rope, the connection broke. Her fingers, now slick with blood slipped easily off of the dacra as Drefan’s empty body leaned to the side, and she watched as with the added weight of death he fell to the ground. His eyes were still wide, and were pointed up at her, but now there was nothing, they were milky. Drefan was dead. Cara panted, leaning forward for a moment as she felt the pulsing of something new inside of her. Complexity that told her, as she felt the weight and the ache in her chest that whatever she now possessed was so much more than simple magic.

She turned and looked at Nicci who was on her knees. “Why?”

“To give her back peace. To let her live her life… as she should.” Cara said coldly.

“Cara what happened?”

“She… she…” Cara shook her head; she could not say out loud what she saw, what she was feeling.

“She betrayed you.” Nicci whispered.

Cara turned away. She did not want to see that look in Nicci’s eyes. Be it compassion or sympathy. She wanted to see nothing but the icy apathy she had grown accustomed to. She wanted to know nothing but that cold detachment. It was what she had known and what she had thrived with for years. Feelings and emotions caused confusion and this hollow feeling inside.

She heard a noise, and looked over her shoulder, as Nicci dropped her forehead to the ground. The words came, part of Cara had expected them, another part had never thought she would hear them in this way, never thought she could comprehend what it felt like hearing them. It was as if with each syllable her blood became thicker, the power inside grew stronger.

“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

As Nicci’s voice began the devotion for a second time, Cara left the tent. Kahlan would know soon enough, if she did not already. Cara could not be here when that happened; she refused to allow herself to see Kahlan again.

* * * * *

“Put your face to the ground you pig.” Kahlan ordered Prince Harold, who fell forward mumbling into the dirt his thanks at being able to please her. “SILENCE!” She did not want to hear his voice, and Kahlan was fighting every instinct inside of her that screamed out to kill him, to slice his throat, to remove his head, to shove her hand through his chest and rip his beating heart out.

She dropped the cloak to the ground, and moved to the small desk and chair in the corner, where she had left her dress.

“Kahlan!” Richard objected at her sudden lack of modesty.

“I am getting dressed Richard, either turn away or shut up or leave.” Kahlan narrowed her eyes at him. “I suggest the latter.”

“What in the world is going on here?” Richard asked as she stubbornly turned around.

Kahlan’s eyes rolled as she pulled on her long leather skirt, and then reached for the thick corset and pulled it roughly around her chest, and began securing the buckles. Her silence was for herself. While she knew what had happened, she feared voicing it aloud. Afraid that, as if in a dream, if she spoke then she would be making it reality, the truth, and Kahlan was grasping at the slim glimmer of hope that perhaps she was dreaming, that this was a twisted and horrid nightmare.

“Kahlan.” Richard stressed.

“I don’t know!” She barked at him. “I thought… I thought Cara had come to me. I thought she had somehow found a way, a magical way to… to…” Kahlan stopped in her frantic dressing and put her hands over her face, just as the tears began rolling from her eyes. “I wanted to believe. I should have known. I should have felt that it was wrong… I mean… I did… I knew… but too late. It wasn’t until.” She was choking on her sobs. Just thinking about what she had done made her stomach turn in continuous circles, and made her mind throb. She had wanted it to be Cara; she had wished and dreamed for a way for them to create life so many times that she believed what she wanted to believe. Kahlan knew the Wizard’s First Rule. “ &‘People will believe a lie because they want it to be true.’ ”

“ &‘or they’re afraid it’s true.’ ”Richard concluded.

Kahlan looked up at him, this man who the last time she saw him had looked at her with the pain of betrayal in his eyes, and now he was here, standing before her with compassion in his eyes. He could have assaulted her with words, could have slandered Cara and all that she and Kahlan had shared. Instead he seemed to truly be compassionate.

“Richard, I.” – Kahlan’s hand went to her chest and she dropped to the ground, gasping at the pain. It felt as though she had been run through with a burning hot blade. Looking down she saw nothing, but the pain intensified, and she felt the pulling of the bond, and she knew.

“Drefan.” She rasped, looking up at Richard. “Someone get to… Drefan!”

* * * * *

Nicci threw open the flap of the tent and grabbed the nearest soldier. “You there. It is time for devotions.”

“I am sorry?” He stumbled.

Her patience was nonexistent and she sent a spark of pain into his body. He shuddered and looked at her with wide eyes. She was thankful that D’Harans despised magic and took it very seriously.

“Devotions. Every man, woman, child; every living being in this entire camp must give their devotions to Lord Rahl immediately!”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Inform everyone you see, every officer. This is not a request. Those who do not give their devotions will give their heads.”

His hand slammed to his heart and he rushed off in search of, Nicci hoped, the nearest officer. She moved quickly through the camp, heading directly for a very specific tent.

She was completely focused on getting to Kahlan, and was sure that her face expressed that intent, that anyone who stood in her way would not be standing long; as soldiers and others jumped out of her path as if the Keeper himself was moving passed them.

* * * * *

Nicci entered the small tent, ignoring everyone else, and marched directly up to Kahlan glaring at her openly. Her blue eyes were burning it seemed with a mixture of rage and determination. “She took it. Every drop of Drefan’s Han, and every measurement of his life. Cara is now the Lord Rahl. And if I were you, I would devote myself to her immediately, before the Dream Walker”–

“I am already devoted to her, you fool.” Kahlan snapped.

“Better to be sure Kahlan, than to find yourself on the end of a very short leash.” Nicci moved forward surprisingly fast, and set her hand on her shoulder, beside her throat. Kahlan felt the power crackling under the surface of Nicci’s skin. This was not a request, and Kahlan knew it. “You told me you would do what you must. This is one of those things.” The sound of the devotions being given outside filled the tent. Nicci turned around and glared at Richard. “Get on your knees Seeker and give your devotions to Lord Rahl.”

“And if I don’t.”

“I will remove your head.” Her expression left no room for discussion.

“Nicci.” Richard said sharply.

“Everyone must give devotions. If they do not? I will personally end their lives. We will not allow the Dream Walker, nor Six the opportunity to invade this camp.”

Kahlan closed her eyes, and searched for the image of Cara that she kept there, inside of her heart. She could almost smell her, could almost feel the warmth of her skin. Her love, and her devotion moved, surrounding the image, the presence of Cara inside of her, and Kahlan Amnell heard her own voice, as if she were miles away from it. “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

“NOW RICHARD!” Nicci’s voice was loud, nearly a scream, but it sounded as if she were underwater.

Kahlan was too focused on Cara, and on the words she spoke. She meant them; without hesitation and without misgiving. “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

Voices joined her own, creating a fervent chorus. “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

“Happy now?” Richard’s voice grumbled, breaking the reverie Kahlan had found herself in, if for only a moment as the words of the devotion resonated through her skin.

“It’s not about happiness, and you know it.” Nicci replied, and Kahlan opened her eyes, seeing the powerful woman as she crossed her arms, as the ferocity in her blue eyes lessened. “When did you arrive?”

“Moments ago. Zedd is around here somewhere.” Richard stood and brushed his hands together. He moved closer to Nicci, who glared at him for a moment.

“She had enough time to break him?” Kahlan asked Nicci quietly. The blonde moved to look at Kahlan who was still kneeling on the ground.

“No need to break something that is already broken.” Nicci offered her hand, and Kahlan took it, using the added incentive to stand, because she was quite sure that she would not have the strength to do it on her own. “Cara used the same magic that she took from the Sister of the Dark. Utilizing a dacra she pulled the Han from him, and in that she took the bond.” Nicci said.

“But why?”

“She said it was what she should have done all along. That now you.” Nicci stopped for a moment.

“Please, Nicci, tell me?”

“She said that now you could be free of the burden she unjustly made you take.” For just a flash of a moment Nicci’s face took on the look of concern, as if what she was about to say pained her. “That now you could be the Mother Confessor and you could find a suitable mate.”

“When I find Shota I will do more than kill her.” Kahlan’s eyes flashed red and then black, before returning to their natural blue hue. She felt them change, as much as saw the reaction from Richard who stepped back, and Nicci, whose eyes still held uncharacteristic compassion.

She spun around and glared at the man whose face was pressed into the dirt floor. “Whose idea was this?”

There was a sputtering, before Prince Harold’s tear streaked face looked up at her. “Idea Mistress?”

“You did not just happen to get the glamour nor come here without intent. Whose idea was it?”

“Mistress… I have always wanted you. That is no secret. And I am not the only man who desired such things. When Shota told me that there could be a way for me to lay with you and not be confessed, well I am ashamed to admit that I pressured her into telling me.”

“Not confessed.” Nicci laughed sadly.

“What did Shota tell you?” Kahlan pressed.

“That if you believed me to be the Mord–Sith that you would hold back and not confess me.” Kahlan sighed internally. At least Shota had the wherewithal to not tell Prince Harold the truth. But still he was not innocent in all of this. “I did it for you, Mistress. That you are not pleased makes me feel such regret. I only wanted to give you what you wanted.”

“I never wanted that.”

“Everyone knows you need an heir. I can give you that. Please Mistress allow me to give you that.” His hands moved towards Kahlan’s ankles, as if hoping to beg her more appropriately, with more intensity. She kicked at his hands, and he sat back on his heels.

“I think you did enough.” Richard snapped.

“No, not enough. I can still please you Mistress.”

“He didn’t?” Richard asked.

“I don’t think so no.” Kahlan said angrily. “Take him out of my sight. If I look on him a moment more, I will kill him.”

“Please kill me Mistress, if it will please you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You have no idea how much.”

“Kahlan you can’t. It would set off a mutiny within the Midlands.”

“You think that I don’t know that?” She yelled at Richard. “Take him away from me!”

Kahlan turned her back on all of them, and roughly pulled on her boots. She could hear Nicci commanding two guards to come and take Prince Harold, she could hear Richard muttering under his breath. As she slammed the daggers into their sheaths she turned.

“Where did she go? After she killed Drefan?”

“I don’t know. She had a horse.”

“Nicci. Now is not the time to play meek and mild. I know you can use your magic and tell me where Cara is.”

Nicci glared stubbornly back at Kahlan. “You can as well, Mother Confessor. If you are devoted to Lord Rahl you should be able to sense.”

Kahlan waved her hand, silencing Nicci. “Fine. Yes. She… is.” Kahlan opened herself up to the image of Cara, and felt, for just a moment wind on her face, and a direction. “North. She is heading north.”

“So it would seem.”

“It is not like Cara to run away.” Richard said.

“Not like…” Kahlan shook her head. “The Cara I know and love? Yes, she would run away. She would run hard and fast to get herself away from here.”

“She is no coward.”

“Of course not. She is running so she doesn’t rip Prince Harold limb from limb. She is running, Richard, to clear her mind, and because she thinks that what she saw is what I wanted? Cara is being altruistic. In running she is thinking that she is making it easier and giving me what I want.” Kahlan ran her hand through her hair.

“Now that does sound like Cara.” A new voice filled the tent, and Kahlan looked up to see Zedd as she bent low to enter. “I dare say we arrived just in time for the excitement and the changing of the guard, as it were.” He smiled at her, but Kahlan merely sighed, looking down at her hands. She understood Zedd’s attempt at levity. She just felt as though she were stretched too thin to even attempt to appreciate it. “Was that Prince Harold I saw being escorted through the camp?”

“It appears that Prince Harold and Shota.”

“Richard. Perhaps later would be a better time to rehash events to the Wizard.” Nicci said, and Kahlan looked up, seeing again how the blonde witch was commanding and corralling Richard. As if she knew just how to speak to him, and just how to address Richard in a way that was not admonishing, but was guiding.

“Shota eh?” Zedd mumbled, and Kahlan felt his hand, warm and kind, pressing on her shoulder. “Say no more, Richard. I think, from the sound of devotions filling the camp, to the look on Kahlan’s face, that I can guess that whatever Shota attempted to do, it was not with the best intentions.”

Kahlan set her hand atop Zedd’s. “Ah, but in her mind? I am sure that it was.” She sighed.

“Someone dropped this. I believe, it belongs to you.” Zedd said softly, lifting the large bundle in his hand to her.

Feeling suddenly very weak, Kahlan took the package, and set it down on the table. With a shaking hand she pulled back the outer wrappings, and her hand went to her mouth as she gasped.

* * * * *

There was a low grunt and then two massive D’Haran guards entered the tent, uninvited with drawn looks on their faces. Between them hung a woman, her head hanging low, as if she were unconscious. “Mother Confessor, this woman was trying to infiltrate the camp from the south.”

Nicci’s eyes narrowed, there was something not right about the woman who was feigning helplessness between the two men.

“I believe the Mother Confessor is a little preoccupied at the moment.” Zedd said getting between the two guards and Kahlan, who had her back to all of them.

Nicci had seen the pride on Cara’s face when the package had been delivered to her, and just in that Nicci knew that whatever it was it meant something significant. Neither the Mord–Sith or Mother Confessor seemed capable of gestures that did not mean something significant, if only to them.

“We are aware of that Sir, but this woman was adamant.” The guard replied.

“Adamant that you let me go. I will again state it is merely as a kindness that you are still breathing.” A voice grumbled from the woman between the two guards.

“Quiet you.” The guard to the left grumbled, his hand tightening on the woman’s arm.

“Oh?”

Suddenly both guards, one after the other yelped and released the woman. Nicci looked over at the woman, seeing the filthy dress, the short and disheveled hair, as the face lifted up and the smile she saw was not particularly happy. The guards were groaning, holding their arms, where blood ran between their fingers.

“Please go, bleed somewhere else.” Nicci said, her eyes looking even more closely over the woman, who to Nicci felt not only stubborn, but had the thick pulse of magic around her.

“Rikka! Should I even ask where your leathers are?” Zedd asked her.

“It’s not the happiest of tales. Apparently it has not been a happy evening for you either?” The woman’s eyes moved towards Kahlan who stood beside her desk, her hands moved slowly over what appeared to be a white leather breastplate.

* * * * *

Before her lay magnificent thick armor, made of leather, with the most detailed embroidery Kahlan had ever seen. Its patterns and swirls were pressed and sewn into the white leather. She moved her hands over it, and knew. This was made of Cara’s white leather, the leather she wore at their joining, in the heart of the Night Wisp forest.

The scar across her palm began to throb with the power and the memory of that moment, that night. As she opened their flesh, as they pressed their hands together and as they made vows as their blood intertwined, she had felt truly and completely right and whole. Her lips trembled as Cara’s name slipped from them, and she could have sworn that she could feel Cara beside her, that her lips felt as though just not a second before Cara had kissed her.

Everything around her stilled and faded. Kahlan was transported; she was standing under the thick ebony sky, her eyes welling with tears as she looked at Cara who seemed to glow in her white leather, the look of completely adoration and bliss on her face. Kahlan could feel every emotion, just as she had when they stood, surrounded by the fiery blue light of the million Night Wisp that had witnessed their joining, who had enabled the two of them to leave all reality and sink beneath the divine waves of pure, shared emotion. That night, in that moment, as their blood touched, as their eyes became portals into their souls, Kahlan had felt every sentiment, from longing to desire, sadness, and completely happiness. Everything Cara was feeling, and everything Kahlan was feeling as well, combining, like their blood, like their vows. She could almost smell the richness of the forest around them, and her heart sang, her soul danced as she watched inside of the living memory as Cara had spoken words to her. “You told me… that love can make you strong. I believe you now. I understand now, Kahlan. Love… is stronger than loyalty, pain, pride. Love is the strongest emotion and gives one strength.”

Cara had procured a warrior’s armor, made of her white leather as a gesture not only of love, but of her strength. Kahlan could hear Cara’s voice, her intent. She knew that Cara would bashfully say that if Kahlan wore this leather armor into battle that she would be surrounded and immersed with the strength of their love.

Their timeless and powerful love.

Love that at this moment Kahlan felt pulsing through her, carried to every muscle, every limb, love that lived inside of her blood.

Shota and the Prince had worked to weaken that love. They had acted and had hurt Cara. They had lashed out and put her in harm’s way. They had attempted to destroy her mate. No one and nothing would hurt Cara, not if Kahlan could help it.

Her neck arched and a choked scream issued from her lips.

* * * * *

With confident steps and a face that was hard as stone the woman walked up to Kahlan. As the blood filled the Mother Confessor’s eyes, as her low scream became thicker and louder with rage, the woman pulled back her fist and with strength Nicci did not think the woman would have, she slammed the hilt of her dagger into the side of Kahlan’s head.

The Mother Confessor folded in on herself as she fell to the ground. The magic that had been sparking around her evaporated.

“What are you doing?” Richard barked moving closer to Rikka, and she turned to him, her eyes narrowing, but did not need to respond, as Zedd stepped between her and Richard.

“My boy, Kahlan, in her emotional state was about to slip into the Con Dar. Or something close to it. Rikka did what must be done, to save all of us from falling, unintentionally under the Mother Confessor’s power. Thank you.” Zedd said, slapping her hand down on Rikka’s shoulder.

“Maybe I should have let her confess you all. Seems as though since I left things has gone straight to the Keeper!” Rikka shrugged off Zedd’s touch and glared at Nicci. “So who is to blame for whatever caused this rift between them? You?”

“We think Shota.”

“Ah we think.” Rikka crossed her arms, as she moved, perhaps unconsciously, to stand over the Mother Confessor, defending her, protecting her in a way, from the others.

“I will go after Shota,” Zedd offered.

“I doubt that would be wise. I am sure we all know where she is planning on hiding away.” Nicci offered. “You would be of better use here, Wizard.”

“As always your kind way with words warms my heart, Nicci.”

She glared at him, and then shrugged. “The Mother Confessor will be quite angry when she awakens.” She looked at Rikka. “Perhaps she would prefer to see you when she does so.”

* * * * *

The wind ripped at her skin, and burned her eyes. Closing them, to protect them from the dust was a mistake, because as Cara’s eyes closed all she could see was Kahlan.

Richard’s hand on her cheek, his lips on hers. All the times Cara had looked up and seen Kahlan kissing him, or holding his hand. All of those times where she wanted it to be her. Needing it to be her.

In her mind Richard changed, and became that arrogantly handsome Prince, with his snide smile. With his bearing and his title. With his eyes that looked at Kahlan as though she were a prized possession. In her mind she saw Kahlan leaning into him, kissing him back.

Shaking her head she opened her eyes, and tightened her thighs around the horse that was running faster and harder through the night, regardless of what may lay ahead.

All Cara knew was she had to get away from what was behind her. Away from what was haunting her.

* * * * *

She found herself laying under a thick branched tree, it moved, caressed y the faintest of winds. Kahlan’s hands where laying on her stomach, and she felt the wetness of tears falling from her eyes, as they moved away from the corners of her eyes, down her face and into her hair. Her chest ached with the continual gasps of air, as she kept trying to breathe, but there did not seem like enough air. She felt unsteady, even though she was laying on the ground, she felt the world moving beneath her. The stars above, faintly appearing between the branches and needles of the tree she lay under were brilliant white, and she whispered Cara’s name, wondering if her love could see them, if where ever she was she could enjoy the beautiful melancholy of all the stars. Kahlan wanted to reach out, needed to find a way to tell Cara that her heart was pure, that her love was true; that Kahlan was as steadfast as the stars.

A whisper came to her ear Faint at first, a low humming and then she heard it again. Clear sounds forming words, and with the words the emotion of calm and peace seemed to wipe the tears from her eyes. “She knows. She waits for you. Here in the now, and in time.”

Kahlan sat up, her hand going to her throat as she gasped, trying to pull in air. It felt as though she was drowning from the intensity of the dream.

“What is it Kahlan?” A familiar voice asked, and she blinked, and tried to swallow the thick emotion in her throat. For a moment she wondered if she still was dreaming, because Rikka was sitting next to her on the floor. Rikka who did not look like she should. Her hair was filthy and cut short, butchered was more than like it, with jagged and uneven lengths, and for some reason in the thick darkness of it Kahlan could see the occasional strand of gray. And her eyes, Rikka’s eyes were cloudy, and her skin held an unhealthy pallor.

“Why are you in here?” She asked, her voice hoarse.

“Well, it was decided, as I was the one who knocked you unconscious? That I would be the one to watch over you, so you could decide if you wanted to kill me when you woke.” Rikka said. And it was her. It was her voice, and the harshness of her humor.

“I see. That sounds like Richard’s logic.” Kahlan sighed.

“Or cowardice.” Nicci offered. Kahlan looked over to her desk, seeing the blond sitting there, her long black skirts reaching the ground, her hand on a book on the table. Beside her still rested the white leather armor.

The stab of pain moved through Kahlan’s chest, but she embraced it, she caressed it as if it were a precious artifact inside of her. She appreciated the pain.

“Logic.” Kahlan said, because Richard may be many things but a coward was not one of them, and as she stood she noticed that Nicci’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles. “How long?” Kahlan asked Rikka, who stood as well, her hands moving over her filthy dress.

“Dawn rose not long ago.”

“No. Rikka, how long have you been a baneling.” Kahlan asked, her eyes searching the sickly face looking back at her in shock.

“How?”

“Cara…. She too was a baneling for a while.” Kahlan set her hand on Rikka’s arm. “I know the signs. I know what to look for.” She could see the faint wound growing on her forehead. “You need to kill.”

“One could say that, yes.”

Kahlan stepped closer to her, looking at the eyes of the Mord–Sith. She did not know why or how she was a baneling, but she knew Rikka’s stubbornness ran as strong as her own. As with the other Mord–Sith, Kahlan felt concern, because she did like this woman, and she appreciated her. “There is no more shadow water.”

“That doesn’t concern me.”

“Well it does me. We won’t lose you, Rikka.”

“Lose? I am lost.” She crossed her arms.

“There will be those you can kill, to stay alive.”

“I am living death, Kahlan. You are not thinking with reason merely thinking with your heart. You know I cannot kill and still be good. And if I am not good? Well I seem to recall many lectures from a certain Mother Confessor on how those who were not good, those who acted with intent or malice had forfeited their right to live.”

“You will live, Rikka. We need you.” Kahlan mimicked her stance and crossed her arms as well. There was only one specter who granted those recently dead the curse of coming back to the land of the living as banelings. And Kahlan was quite sure that Rikka would have only taken that offer if she felt that she had to, and only with a parting promise to the man she hated. “Did you not vow to destroy Darken Rahl?”

Rikka’s lips pulled into smile. “I did.”

“How can you do that if you are in the Underworld.” Kahlan’s eyebrow twitched ad she moved quickly to the opening of her tent and reached her hand out, finding chainmail she pulled. The guard who looked at her, wondering why his Mistress was pulling him along did not argue or resist. How could he? Confessed as he was she could and would make him do anything she commanded. Kahlan shoved him towards Rikka. “Kill him, we will find others when the need arises.”

“This is not right.”

“No it is not. But it is just.” Kahlan said through her teeth.

“Kahlan.” Rikka stressed.

“Kill him.” Her tone was as firm as it had ever been when she was Lord Rahl, and while she may no longer have the power of that bond, she knew that she still had the ability to stress her point.

“Thank you Mistress.” The guard said to Kahlan, and she nodded, and looked coldly at Rikka, who sighed, before her knife was in her hand, and then it was gone, residing in the guard’s chest.

“Impressive.” Nicci said.

The guard fell to the ground.

“You’ve never seen someone killed before?” Rikka grumbled, and Kahlan noticed the color was back in her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with mirth again.

“No no. I have. Many in fact. No. Your knife skills.”

“Who are you?” Rikka asked.

“She is Nicci. Rikka, you can track Cara now that she is the Lord Rahl.”

“I can. That does not mean that I will.”

“Oh, you will.”

“I am dead, and without a soul Kahlan. You cannot confess me.”

“Perhaps not. But I can ask you, as a favor to not only me, but as to Cara…. who is your Lord and Master.”

Rikka’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, just for a moment before she sighed. “Kahlan, Darken Rahl offered me this. If I were to come to Cara and tell her to go to him.”

“For her to … Go to the underworld?”

“He mentioned living again. He has followers still, banelings yes, but also those misguided D’Harans who dispute his passing. To them he is still Lord Rahl and will return to them. He could be using them in some way, manipulating them to get Cara.”

“Get her how? To do what?”

“I don’t know, but I do know? He will get her. He will play sides to gain what he wants.”

“The Mord–Sith temple.” Kahlan sighed. “That is where she will go.” Kahlan had thought that if Cara went anywhere, that was where she would go, and now she felt it, that was exactly where she was going. Right where Darken Rahl wanted her to be. “Perhaps you would like to… clean up? Before we leave.”

“Clean? I am DEAD. Does it matter if I am dirty or not?”

“Yes. For me? Find something… more suited to who you are to wear.”

“Spirits you are annoying.” Rikka grumbled and stormed from the tent.

“And you will tell me what happened Rikka!” she called after her. She turned to the woman who was standing quietly, waiting. “You will be coming as well Nicci.”

“Oh?”

“You were going to ask, I saved you the humility. Whatever brought you here? Your guise of warning me? I know it has to do with Cara. I know that is why you… assisted her in this… idea of taking Drefan’s Han.”

Nicci entwined her fingers slowly, her face trying to become a mask of indifference, and failing. Perhaps to anyone else it would have worked, but Kahlan was the Mother Confessor. She knew how to make her face expressionless.

“Perhaps you would like to tell Richard that he will not be joining us.”

“No?”

“No. We are going north, if I know Cara we are going to the Mord–Sith temple. Richard has… extreme aversions to the Mord–Sith. He would not be… well behaved.”

“Yes, Mother Confessor.” Nicci bowed her head in respect and then left the tent.

“By the Spirits Cara you had better be safe until I get to you.” Kahlan said under her breath, as she looked down again at the white armor that still lay on the desk.

* * * * *

She was done waiting, and walked inside of the large command tent. Her Generals were standing around the desk, going over maps with Richard, Zedd, and surprisingly Rikka was there as well. She was not dressed in Mord–Sith leather, but in dark green traveling clothes. It seemed odd, she seemed odd, her hair falling in front of her eyes as she reached out and smacked Zedd’s arm.

“You are an idiot old man. This map is wrong, you are wrong. I was there. Right there. The river? It has been dammed.”

“You think it has.” Zedd began arguing, but Kahlan turned as a guard, soaking wet from the downpour outside came up beside her.

“My Queen, we searched the surrounding area, but we cannot find Shota anywhere.” The guard confirmed, looking very nervous to be the one to give her this news.

“Zedd? Can you sense her?” Kahlan asked, and suddenly the room hushed, and everyone turned to look at her.

“I am afraid not.”

“Nicci?”

“She is thirteen leagues to the west. Moving on a horse.”

“How in the world?” Zedd turned and looked at Nicci as though she were some odd phantom of a time long past.

“Can you reach her from here? With your magic?” Kahlan asked, part of her hoping that it would be so very simple to remove Shota from existence.

Nicci seemed to consider her response, waiting two whole heartbeats before she answered. “No.” Kahlan felt her eyes narrow slightly as she looked at Nicci. She was lying. Kahlan did not know why, but she was. For the moment, she would allow the lie to stand. But she would not forget it.

“Kahlan, I am glad you are focused and here.” Richard said, coming closer to her, his smile trying to be warm.

“I am focused.” She replied.

“We need to hurry.”

“Yes. I do.”

“You?”

“I don’t know what you are all talking about Richard? But I am leaving.”

“You cannot.”

“Oh, you will find that I can.”

“Every moment we wait? The Imperial Order is getting closer.”

She crossed her arms.

“I have seen the front line of the Imperial Order’s Army, Kahlan. This is a massive thing that swallows up the entire world, as far as your eyes can see. They are here, in the New World. They are killing and destroying.”

“He is right. The town of Horner’s Mill? They left not one living soul. There was no fuel, no food, no livestock. All that survived were the women that they took, and I am doubtful many of them lived long after. They are animals. These… creatures are more like beasts escaped from the Underworld than any people I have ever known.” Rikka crossed her arms. “And I was Mord–Sith. I know debauchery.”

Hally jabbed her with her elbow. “You are Mord–Sith.”

“So you see Kahlan? We have to–“

“Well then Seeker what do you suggest I should be doing now?” She asked.

“Continue to the People’s Palace, and rally the army behind you. Drefan may be dead, but you are still Queen of D’Hara.”

Kahlan stepped close to Richard, close enough that his eyes widened and she jammed her finger into his shoulder. “You are telling me, Richard Rahl to do the very thing you were asked to do. When you were asked to take the throne of D’Hara, when you were told that it would be in the best interests for all if you become Lord Rahl and united the people of your land, and to bring them together with those of the Midlands? You refused. You said it was not your destiny. So you dare tell me that it is mine?”

“This is different, Kahlan.” Richard replied.

“Different? Because it is not you? Because I should do whatever it is that the Seeker of Truth commands?”

“I don’t command you.”

“You try, Richard. All you have done is try.”

“Kahlan, calm down and look at what is happening here. A massive force is moving into your kingdoms. They are killing your people. You must do all that you possibly can to stop them. All the lives of the people in the Midlands, they are worth more than one person. The Kahlan I know understands that.”

“Well, the Kahlan that I am? Knows that the one person in all the world who loved me? She thinks I betrayed her. And what is worse she is out there all alone.”

Richard blanched. “Cara can survive.”

“That isn’t the point, Damnit. The POINT IS that I don’t know if I will ever see her again, what if I never get the chance to tell her I was wrong, that I am sorry? What if things are just suddenly over, over before they truly began? How can that be right? Just? To have such perfection only to lose it so soon? When there were so many more adventures we could have lived.”

“Did you not think that perhaps it was too perfect to last? That there was no way it could be continued or remain moving forward?” Richard hissed, not backing away, no matter how loud Kahlan’s voice was becoming.

“That is not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair.” Richard snapped back.

“NO! ITI ISN’T. AND I HAVE GIVEN EVERY PART OF ME TO THIS WORLD. I EXPECT IT TO ALLOW ME HAPPINESS.”

“You expect too much.”

“Or not enough.” She spun around, “Lieutenant!”

“Yes Mother Confessor?” the man looked at her as though she were about to slaughter him. And is he argued with her she just might.

“Bring me my horse.”

His fist slammed against his heart. “Yes my Queen.”

“Kahlan?” Richard asked.

She did not turn around, but said evenly. “I am going, I will find her, and I will make this right.”

“That isn’t what is important.”

She did turn then, and she knew her eyes were black, and her voice was as rough and commanding as if she had been screaming for hours. “Damn your war, and damn your ideals, Richard. This? Cara is ALL the matters to me.”

“That is not who you are. You do not turn away from duty.”

“Watch me.” Kahlan lowered the hood of her dress and with one last glare at Richard walked out of the tent and into the torrent of rain.

* * * * *

The clouds that were rolling in from the south held enough irony that they brought a dejected smile to Nicci’s lips as she watched them come.

“Nicci.” He said softly from beside her, but no matter how much she may be weakened by the idea of Richard, she was not in the mood to turn and look at him.

“You are asking her to do the one thing that you refused to. I had higher expectations of you.”

“This is different. When I rejected the role of lord and master there was not a war looming on the horizon.”

“Oh? I beg to differ. You were battling the Keeper of the Underworld, and you turned your back on the resources and the power that would come to you if you would have merely stepped forward and taken your place. Destiny gave you the opportunity to be great. You decided to turn your back on it.” She said evenly. Nicci was not sure why she was so upset with him, did not know for certain why it was that seeing Kahlan Amnell breaking before her, not once but twice, had some how made her see the world differently. She did not think it was possible, for her to see things differently. Yet she looked at the clouds in the sky, and she felt almost sad. It had been so long since she felt that particular emotion that it seemed nauseating.

“That is not fair. You don’t know.”

“Don’t I?” Nicci turned to him. “I was your enemy then. If you had become Lord Rahl? Who is to say that you would not have discovered the Stone of Tears all that much sooner? Who is to say that thousands of lives would have been saved? Who, Richard is to say that the world we are living in at this moment would not be completely different if you had merely accepted your birthright?”

“The tyranny of Darken Rahl tainted the role of Lord Rahl. If I had become that? Not one of the separatist armies would have followed me.”

“Oh, and you used those separatists to your advantage did you? When you fought the Keeper, battled back the demons of the Underworld the separatist forces were right beside you?”

“Well… I.”

“Who fought beside you Richard?”

“That.”

“WHO?”

“Kahlan and Cara… and Zedd.”

“I see. They fought beside you, supported your decisions though they did not agree nor understand them.”

“Yes.”

“And you still cannot find it in yourself to do the same for them?”

“Nicci. I support Kahlan… and Cara. I understand now, so much more than I did at the time. I know I made bad decisions. I know that I caused some of this to happen.”

“Some? Richard.” Nicci leaned her forehead to his shoulder, just for a moment to feel that calm that she seemed to only have found when touching him. His arms went around her waist and she sighed into his strong body, as her voice cut at the tenderness she felt. “Richard, all that is happening is because of you. You made this happen.”

“What are you saying?” He grabbed her shoulders and held her away, to look at her harshly.

“You shattered the barrier to the south when you were in the Valley of Perdition. You went to the Palace of the Prophets to gain wisdom and help for your gift, to control your Han, but if you had stayed? If you had listened to the teachings of the Sisters? You would not have broken the barrier, and this path would not be the one we are all forced to walk on today.”

“You cannot lay all the blame at my feet Nicci.”

“Blame that is yours? It is yours Richard. The rest of it? What I am responsible for? I accept my blame and the burden of it. And I, unlike you, see now that I must do what I can to set things right.”

“I want to believe you, Nicci… I know there is good in you.”

She laughed. “Good? Oh Richard. This is not about good and bad, right and wrong. This is about truth.” The sound of horses coming closer signaled that it was time. She looked at Richard, who still looked stung by the honesty in her words.

“Will I see you again?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Will you?” She smiled softly, before turning and walking around the tent, to where she knew the Mother Confessor and the others were waiting.

* * * * *

Slowly the sparks became a smoldering glow, and then they managed to flair and evolve into flames. The small branches Cara had collected and placed in the ring of stones cracked and popped as the fire was born and they ignited. Her skin was covered with the sticky residue of sweat and dust. The horse was grumbling behind her as he ate grass and the heads of clover from the ground, after having drunk his fill from the small river she stopped beside. They had ridden hard through the night and the entire day, not stopping.

Cara could not stop, she refused to stop. In moving forward, in the repeated cadence of hoof beats, in the rhythm of movement she found emptiness. She found nothing. Her heart had bleed and the tears had moved down her face, and then they ceased. It all stopped and there was inside of her. Wind in her hair, chaffing her skin, the sweat from the heat of the sun on her back, and the cold fever of her flesh. She knew she should drink something or scavenge for food. But the idea of doing so meant she would be forced to think. And thinking instilled too much.

If the stallion had not developed a lather, if he had not began to miss steps, she would have continued riding. Cara almost rode him until he fell beneath her. It would not have been the first time she rode a horse to its death. And yet she had stopped. She had half heartedly tended to him.

The sky above was clear and full of more stars than she could count; the chilled air smelt like the remnants of sun on the thick grass of the D’Haran plains.

And her heart hurt.

Cara set her hand against her chest, between her breasts and pushed. She felt the resistance of the bone under her hand, and wondered how strong could it really be? How much more powerful would the beating of her heart need to become before it burst through muscle and bone.

She closed her eyes. She knew the amount of pressure it would take. She had ripped the hearts out of living beings before. More than one. More than a dozen.

Her heart ached when she saw Kahlan, naked, skin flushed and body trembling with that man before her, Cara was sure that the ache she felt was stronger than if her heart had been ripped from her body still beating.

“Still beating.” She sighed aloud.

Her heart still beat. She was still alive, still moving through an existence shrouded in the familiar comfort of pain. This pain was different than that found at the end of an Agiel, or the flesh splitting caress of a whip.

The flames of the fire drooped as she tossed a larger branch upon them, before they surged even higher, before the warmth of them touched her cheeks for the first time. Her skin was already feverish, so the temperature from the flames felt more like the calming touch of cold water being slashed against it.

A deep sigh was released, and she closed her eyes. The vision came unwanted, of Kahlan, naked, sated.

Yet this time, this time Cara did not force the vision away. This time she inspected it, analyzed it. She saw the thick black bear fur wrenched aside. She saw Kahlan’s inner thighs marred by the red marks of a course touch. She saw the flush of skin above Kahlan’s heaving breasts and the look of disgust and horror on her face.

Cara’s eyes flashed open.

Horror.

Disgust.

Her palms found her face, and she groaned. The look on Kahlan’s face had not been at Cara walking in and finding her. It had been directed at Prince Harold. That repulsive man who was kneeling beside her.

“It looks to me as though you have had a hard day.”

Behind her hands Cara winced, hearing the all too familiar voice.

“You were never one to sit alone and cry.”

“I am not crying.” She grumbled.

“Well then. Pouting perhaps? Not that it matters. Not to me. Not now certainly.”

Cara could almost feel the breath of the words on her shoulder, and slowly she lowered her hands.

“You are a naughty girl, Cara.” Darken Rahl’s spirit said as it manifested itself beside her, leaning over her shoulder. The spirit moved, as if to touch her cheek, but all she felt was the slight vibration in the air over her skin. “I have been waiting patiently. Far too patiently for you to come to me.”

“No matter what happened today, I have no plans on dying.”

“Of course not, Cara. It is not you who will die.” Her eyes flashed angrily at him. “No longer will I be patient or kind. You know I have been waiting for you.”

“At the temple.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do. You will. I will allow you the span of two days. To arrive. If you do not? Well at the end of that time? Berdine will die.”

“How do I know she isn’t already dead?” Cara asked.

“Perhaps you need to have a little faith?”

“In you? Doubtful.”

“Cara, for all that I have ever done and all that I ever was? I was true to my word. You know that.”

Her eyes narrowed angrily. Because that was a truth.

“Two days. And to make it more of an incentive for you? I will allow Triana to kill Raina if you are not in the temple in one day. Berdine… she will have the full two days.”

“I don’t care.” Cara hissed, her stomach rolling with rage.

“Right. You. Cara. Do not care. About anyone or thing. Logical and emotionless. Well fine. Come when you decide then. But I promise you, I will order a trail of dead bodies, of all those you know and have cared for, to line my way from the temple to the People’s Palace.” He flashed out in a surge of green flame.

“I don’t care. I am not capable of caring.” Cara said objectively, closing her eyes.

She swallowed, as behind her eyes she could see Kahlan’s blue eyes, full of tears, and could hear her voice begging Cara to stay. To believe. To know. To love.

Her boot kicked dirt over the top of the flames, squelching the small fire, and allowing the darkness to cover her, embrace her, before she walked over to the horse. His head jerked unhappily as she took the reins in her hands and pulled herself into the saddle.

“I don’t care.” She lied, and dug her heels into the horse, turning them around to the north.

* * * * *

Leaning slightly forward in her saddle she patted the side of Nick’s strong neck, and he happily lifted his head. They had been riding through the night, two of Kahlan’s Elite Guards leading the way, holding massive lanterns before them, lighting the way. In the distance the sky was beginning to change color, and dawn would come. They were not riding to hard, Kahlan wanted to, but she knew that it would be better for them to go steadily and carefully than suffer some freak accident, like an injured horse, or worse.

Nicci came up beside her, and Kahlan looked at her from the corner of her eye. There had been little to no conversation through the night. It was as if the darkness urged Kahlan to keep her thoughts to herself, though she had many questions for Nicci.

“Darken Rahl wants Cara. This is all momentum to getting her there.” Nicci said, “And to get you there as well.”

“Why is it that I think there is much more that you are not telling me?”

“Because you are smart, perceptive.” Nicci complimented.

“Darken Rahl wants Cara to come to the temple. He wants me to come to the temple. And, why is it Nicci, that I think you too are needed there?” Kahlan turned and saw the sad smile. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

“You won’t like what I tell you.”

“Hasn’t stopped you so far.”

“I will need to assist him in being made flesh.” Nicci confessed.

Kahlan sighed. “I should kill you now.”

“You are probably right. But you won’t.”

“Not yet, no.”

* * * * *

The horse screamed and pulled against the leather reins, but Cara rammed her heels into its sides. That was when its front legs gave out and it fell to the ground. Barely Cara jumped off before becoming trapped beneath it. Her fists hit her thighs as she kicked the dead animal and let out a mournful scream.

The sun was rising in the distance and it was suddenly blinding, making her eyes fill with additional tears to just those of frustration.

“Damn you Spirits!” She wailed.

A cry from above her nearly sounded like laughter and she turned and squinted as she watched a large crow land on the ground not three feet away. It jump closer to the horse.

“Damn you too, you stupid bird!” She rushed at it and watched as it yelled back at her before lifting into the air.

She would never make it in time. Not in one day, and certainly not in two. She had just pushed the poor horse to death, and she was still too far away from the Northern Temple to be of any use.

She would fail.

She had hesitated when she knew, weeks ago, she knew she should hae traveled to the temple to save them.

When you hesitate, people die.

Not just people.

Berdine and Raina would die, because Cara had failed.

Cara stopped thinking.

Her eyes narrowed again on the crow, who was circling above her.

If she was the Lord Rahl?

“What’s the worst that could happen?” She mumbled to herself, before closing her eyes. She remembered the sensation from all the times she had done it before. Of course she had always done it at the behest of Lord Rahl. So she willed herself, she commanded herself to do it, and she began running. Moving over the ground. Willing herself faster. Higher.

Flying, when one thought about it was not so terrifying.

It was the landing that Cara always had problems with.

* * * * *

The earth rushed up towards her, as did the guards standing around the massive oak door, and she focused her intent, and felt the change and felt the touch of magic, as her feet hit the ground.

She pulled one Agiel, ramming it into the chest of one guard, while taking his sword. With it in hand she stabbed the other guard who had just been blinking his eyes, not believing what he had seen.

The one Mord–Sith who was between them sneered, and then dropped to the ground, as Cara’s Agiel was pressed none to gently against her chin.

Rage and wrath powered her limbs and the door kicked in easily, too easily. Cara dragged the dead Mord–Sith by the collar, and dropped her to the stone floor. She slammed the sword she liberated from the now dead guard outside through the Mord–Sith’s still heart, just to be sure.

Cara raised her eyes to the stone stairs and yelled, “RAHL!”

Part 23

“Why did you lie to me before?” Kahlan asked Nicci came along side on her gray speckled horse.

“What gain could have come from my admitting that yes, my magic could reach Shota?”

“You knew that I would have done all I could to force you to obliterate her.” Kahlan said honestly.

“Yes. I also believed that at the time you would not doubt me, as you were being ruled completely by your emotions.”

Kahlan sighed. “You say the word emotions as if they are a curse.”

“Perhaps they are.”

Kahlan looked at her, openly, searching her face. “Do you? Believe that I mean?”

“I know that they cloud one’s mind. Make decision making slow, if not biased.”

“If I had asked you to kill Shota?” Kahlan asked.

“I would have denied your request.”

“Because you think that what she did was just?”

“Because, Kahlan, I think what she did was in a twisted away, necessary.” Nicci had her reasons for not killing the Witch Woman. Many of them in fact. Shota had done something bewitching and terrible, and while Nicci could understand Kahlan’s rage, in some way Shota had also played her part in the prophecy. Shota was meant to live and act in accordance with who and what she was. And that affected the world around her. To kill Shota merely to satisfy Kahlan’s rage could possibly affect a thousand other moments and lives. That was not a chance Nicci was willing to take. Not yet. Not until she was confident that all that could be done was done. She had her own ideas of what additional role Shota would play. This was something she would keep to herself. Knowing the Mother Confessor as she was beginning to, she was quite certain she would not agree with certain ideas forming in Nicci’s mind.

“Because you too believe that there needs to be a child. A Confessor.” Kahlan pressed.

“There will be more Confessors. You will never allow the line to die with you. That wasn’t the point, not really.”

“I think a man attempting to plant his seed was most certainly the point.” Kahlan snapped.

“Ah, but you see, you have proven mine. You are reacting and thinking emotionally. What if Shota had no choice, what if Prince Harold had no choice? What if destiny has been moving events and people along a specific path, for all of their lives, merely to make that one moment happen? So that, in her eyes, you would betray Cara?” Nicci asked.

“Why would I need to betray her?”

“If destiny commands it? If prophesy speaks of it? Then it must be.”

“I have learned to not believe blindly in prophesy.” Kahlan said firmly.

Nicci smiled. “You do not need to believe in it. It already believes in you.”

* * * * *

She had expected a legion of soldiers to battle through before coming to the center of the temple, as she made her way to the throne room. Cara’s eyes narrowed as she looked around. She had stormed inside the temple and challenged Rahl, and yet, there was no one rushing through doors or down staircases to rise to the challenge. There was nothing but the echo of her voice.

Exhaustion tickled at the corners of her mind, making her thoughts disjointed, but still she was sure that there were others in the temple, she could almost feel them. Why they were not rushing to battle her was confusing.

“If they won’t come to me then I will go to them.” She grumbled rushing up the stairs.

In the back of her memory there was the layout of this temple, she knew each corner, every shadow and room. There were plenty of places to hide, and to hide away others. She doubted Darken Rahl would be hiding anywhere, if he was still a ghost, dead on gone and merely tormenting them all from the Underworld. But there were many places to hide Berdine and Raina.

* * * * *

With a petulant scowl on her face, and her eyes burning angrily at Kahlan, Rikka sliced the throat of the man who had been order to kneel before her. Kahlan knew that Rikka did not like taking life in this way, that to her it seemed dirty, dishonorable in some way. She could kill in the midst of a battle, but the look on her face clearly spoke to the fact that to Rikka, having a lamb before her waiting for slaughter seemed unseemly. Part of Kahlan agreed, but she needed Rikka with her, needed her guidance and her knowledge, so she could not sit by and watch her disintegrate and return to the Underworld.

“Perhaps I do not want a child after all.” Kahlan said, returning Rikka’s stubborn glare.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Rikka asked, wiping the blade of her dagger on the grass.

“Every night at this time I have to force you, trick you, and intimidate you to kill. I am beginning to think this is what it would be like to try and feed a stubborn child.”

Rikka’s face went pale and slack. “That.Is.Not.Even.Remotely.Funny.”

“Yes, it is.” Nicci said as with a flick of her fingers the small camp fire before them surged to life. Then with the same simple movement, the body of the now dead guard turned to ash.

* * * * *

This Mord–Sith Temple was designed and built like all the others. A tower of sorts, this one being built directly into the cliffs here in the far north of D’Hara, where the temperature always remained cool, from the altitude as well as the winds that blew through the cracks in the mountains from the ocean beyond. Those winds were picking up outside, and Cara could hear them faintly howling, seeming to echo in the silence of the stone monument. Where the stairwells and the rooms had been designed to reduce the screams carrying from room to room, the winds somehow managed to come through the stone. Normally along the stairs torches would be lit, the flames dancing, but they all seemed to have been blown out. It made her skin prickle. She knew there were Mord–Sith here, she could feel them. But all that she heard, aside from her own heart beat, and the delicate fall of her boots on granite was the wind. It was ominously familiar, to when she traveled into the future with Richard, to when she came upon this very temple and found nothing but bones and molding leather.

If she did not find Raina or Berdine alive, Cara vowed that she would kill every one she did find, and not swiftly. The first five rooms she came to were barren.

The sixth room was not. While it was thick with shadows, for there was only the smallest window showing the pale grey sky outside, she could make out a small body, swaying slowly in the center of the room. With a clang she dropped the sword from her hand and moved to the body. Her hands settled on naked and chilled hips, and Cara’s eyes moved over the broken and bruised skin, before her gloved hand brushed aside the long dark hair that hung, damp from sweat and blood, which caused it to curl slightly.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Raina’s voice was rough, and her eyes opened slowly. They flashed in the darkness, clear, showing she was completely there, regardless of the damage to her body, the dried blood on her cheek.

“Hello to you too.” Cara said softly, tucking hair behind Raina’s ear.

“I am serious.”

“Would you rather I let the two of you die?”

“You let us be tortured.”

“Maybe I thought you had been missing the good old days.” Cara offered, her tone not revealing the guilt she did feel at not coming sooner. Her hands reached up and easily and habitually thumbed the release on the left wrist shackle.

“Nostalgia aside, Cara, you are an idiot. This is a trap.” Raina stressed.

Cara, undid the right shackle, and leaned closer to Raina, as she fell bonelessly into her arms. She wrapped one arm around Raina’s back, holding her firmly to her, and looked down into the eyes of one of her oldest comrades. While she and Raina had a very strained relationship, due to all that had happened between them when they served Darken Rahl, and that the things Cara had done to Berdine in the past made it impossible for Raina to ever forgive her, she still cared what happened to the petite Mord–Sith. Seeing her bleeding and broken made Cara’s heart swell with guilt.

“I know. I… I am sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Lord Rahl.” She looked up at Cara with her burning dark eyes. “Just don’t mess this up.”

“I’ll try?”

“Ah, and what would Kahlan say to you, if you said something so stupid?” Raina asked. Cara knew exactly what Kahlan would say.

“She would say not to try but to do.”

“Correct. And you winced. Why did you wince? Where is Kahlan?” Those searching eyes narrowed.

“Safe. I left her surrounded by her army.”

“You have learned nothing about love, have you?”

Cara scoffed, “I have.” Then she half carried, half supported Raina as they moved back towards the door.

“Oh? So you think then that Kahlan will let you walk into a trap? The woman she loves.”

Her mouth worked for a moment without sound, and Cara knew. Raina was right. Kahlan was probably already on her way north. She sighed unexpectedly.

“Much to learn.” Raina pushed Cara’s chest, moving away, and she stood independently on shaky legs. Slowly she stretched her arms, and then moved her hips, before she took a step forward, testing her strength. Cara watched as the pain flared only for a moment in her eyes, before she raised her chin high. Her long hair hanging down, covering her almost in a veil of modesty, her skin seemed to glow with purpose, even covered in the remnants of flaking and dried blood. “Let’s go kill people. I get dibs on Triana. Perhaps I can accomplish what you failed to do.”

“No.”

“No?” Raina looked at her with her dark brown eyes becoming even darker as she felt the pulse of command behind Cara’s words.

“No. Find Berdine. If she … if she is.” Cara strangely could not say the words aloud. She did not know if she could not voice them for fear of saying them and making them true or if she did not want to see the look in Raina’s eyes if she said them.

“She is. I would know. I would feel if she were not.” Apparently Raina would not say those words either.

“Then go to her. The two of you need to leave. Immediately.”

“The Spirits be damned, she will not abandon you here.”

Cara smiled softly, but her eyes became hard, and she focused her will, her desire to be obeyed into them as she looked into the brown gaze before her. “Raina, you and Berdine will leave this place; you will go to the Mother Confessor.” She watched as Raina’s face became pained and stressed as Cara used the power inside of her, as she continued to speak and order, not as Cara the Mord–Sith, but as Lord Rahl.

* * * * *

Her eyes were focused on her palm, following the imprints left by time. Thin marks from long healed cuts, calluses from the hilts of swords and daggers, the scar along the center of her palm. Kahlan ran the tip of her finger over her skin. Hands of a warrior that still felt soft, inviting. She knew what the hands of a true warrior felt like, in her own, on her skin. Cara’s hands. Just as scared, as marked by time and experience.

Her finger moved to the long scar on her palm. The one that’s mate lay on Cara’s, and she wondered, if somehow, some way Cara could feel this touch. If she could, wherever she was to the north, could feel Kahlan’s touch, could feel the love Kahlan felt for Cara. She sighed deeply. She hoped that she could. She hoped that Cara knew she had not chosen to have Prince Harold in her tent, that she would only choose Cara.

“This isn’t like you.” Rikka said sitting down beside Kahlan, and her mind drifted back into reality forcefully, and to the mild night that rested around them all.

There had been a silence amid camp, as if no one knew what to say, and Kahlan had felt the same. What could she have said to the women she was traveling with, or to the men who loitered about not sure how to be helpful to their mistress. The strain of looking at any of those confessed men was palpable and made her shudder as she recalled the sound of Prince Harold speaking, in Cara’s voice, as he begged to be commanded.

She looked to Rikka, the flames of the fire coloring her cheeks and her dark eyes. Kahlan asked, “What do you mean?”

“Turning your back on your duty. Being so cavalier with life.” Rikka insinuated.

Her head dropped slightly, and in doing so Kahlan’s dark hair veiled her face. It was a movement that felt familiar; as a child she would hide behind her hair when being admonished for her conduct. When being caught by her Mother playing in mock battles with the kitchen boys of the Confessor’s Palace, or when she had not been focusing enough on her studies.

The dark that hid her from Rikka’s eyes made Kahlan’s voice softer, apologetic, as if being hidden away her emotions could ripen her words. “I know.”

“Then why?”

“Emotions? Being so very overcome by them. Not knowing up from down, right from wrong. All I knew was what I felt.”

“That explains your actions then. Why now?”

She peered through the darkness at Rikka. Why now indeed? Why did she care that this woman, this Mord–Sith live? It was simple. “I care about you. I can’t let you slip away.”

Rikka sighed, and set her hand on Kahlan’s knee, in a completely uncharacteristic and tender way, like an elder would, to ease another’s troubled mind. “Your heart is large, we all know that. As is your love for Cara. But it is also large enough to hold love for all of your people, and every creature living in the New World. This enemy from the south? Six and the Imperial Order? Kahlan I have seen them, I have walked amongst them and I can tell you, honestly that they will destroy everything in their path, not for some greater good, but to merely destroy.”

“Is that why you… came back?” Kahlan asked.

“Yes. No.” Rikka shrugged. “I should not have, yet at the time all I could think of was that you needed to know. You needed to have an understanding of exactly what it is that you face. There is significant danger in not taking the threat seriously.”

“You agree with Richard then?”

“I never said that.” Rikka smiled and took her hand away, and moved to set both her hands in her lap. “You just need to take into account that while yes; Cara may be in danger? This entire world is in danger too. All you know and love may not be here if you turn your back on it.”

“My back is not turned.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Kahlan.” Rikka stressed, her tone kind, but still firm.

Slowly Kahlan lifted her head and looked at the woman sitting next to her, the woman who spoke frankly and to the point.

“The Kahlan I know? She would worry about Cara, but she would not ignore her duty just to run off and see if she needed saving. I agree, she is running head long into a trap, and yet, Cara is not helpless.”

“I know that.”

“Well you are treating her like she is. As if you have to be her white knight rushing in to save her. It is a trap, and not only for her, but for you as well. I did not just become a baneling. Darken Rahl made me this offer, with the condition of urging Cara to travel to him. To go to the temple.”

“But why? We know there are plenty of Mord–Sith.”

“There is only one Cara. Cara has always been more than Mord–Sith, more than the Lord Rahl, –”

“She is your mate. Bound in blood and in love.” Nicci said interrupting, or possibly finishing Rikka’s thought, as she sat across from the small camp fire.

“How can that?”

Nicci said evenly, “I told you, Darken Rahl had been appearing before me, in the flames of fire.”

“Yes, and you never seem to be forthcoming with why or what it was he may have said to you. I know you used to serve the Keeper, and in a way Darken Rahl as well.” Kahlan watched Nicci’s face as it too became highlighted by the small flames of the fire.

“I never served that man. In life or in his death.” Nicci grumbled. “The other Sisters of the Dark may have, but I never saw the value in it. He was annoying in his insistence that Cara travel to him. While the tales of you, Kahlan, and Richard have crisscrossed the land, and I heard them all, Cara had always been a mystery to me. I was unclear as to why it was he had such insistence. Now I think I know. Not only is she a very able minded woman, not only is she exceptionally stubborn and gifted when it comes to the skills a Mord–Sith has. She is able to do one thing that no one else has been able to do in three thousand years.”

“And what is that?” Kahlan asked softly.

“She can control the Mother Confessor.”

Kahlan swallowed, looking to Rikka who nodded slowly with sad eyes, and then back to Nicci, who looked just as lost for a moment. “Cara would never control me.”

“Cara doesn’t have to have the intent to make it so. You just threw your responsibility and your duty on the dung heap. You spit in the face of every single thing you were taught and vowed to protect. You, at the mere thought of Cara being in danger, being hurt, denied your duty.” When Nicci finished silence stretched between them. The fire popped between the three women, the men in the shadows were deathly silent. In the far distance crickets were serenading their potential mates, but even that sound was muted.

Kahlan looked back down at her hand, and turned her palm up. Under these stars and the rising moon the scar there seemed to glow an ethereal white. Again as before, she could feel the line throbbing, feeling just as it did when they had pressed the open wounds together in the field of the Night Wisp, when they had become joined. It had that same deep pulse moving through the scar, up her arm, into her chest, and filling her heart.

“Am I horrible? That I do not want that yoke around my neck? That I meant what I said to Richard? That I could care less about Six and the Imperial Order? All I can think of, all I can care about is Cara. In the midst of a trap.”

“It is not horrible to love.” Rikka said softly.

Kahlan lifted her surprised eyes up. “Oh?”

“It has taken me many years to understand that.” Rikka admitted. “You love her. You want to see her thrive and be safe. That is not horrible. Turning against your duty? You feel that you must. But perhaps you do not Kahlan. Perhaps it is because of your obligation to all that you are able to love Cara. Because of who you are, what you are, made it possible for you to have fallen in love with your enemy.”

Kahlan swallowed before she spoke softly. “Duty? Sacrifice? Responsibility? What I should do versus what I want to do? These are things I am very familiar with. My earliest memory? Is of sitting in the Wizard’s Keep, amid all of the other Confessors, as we were lectured on what our duty was, and how our life was not our own, that it was meant to be lived in the service of others; that any desires we had were to be ignored, all that should truly ever matter to us was the duty to we have to all those living in the Midlands.” She paused for a moment. “I have always been proud to be a Confessor. No matter the personal cost to me, I have always been proud that I could be of service. In living my life for the betterment of others I found a sense of accomplishment.”

“In the Mord–Sith temples we are broken.” Rikka said softly, her voice matching Kahlan’s tone of humility and disclosure. “While being broken? We are reminded, over and over, that we are alive by the grace of Lord Rahl. That our lives, our needs and our desires are only for him. All that we are, all that we can ever be is to thrive in the light and service of Lord Rahl.”

“When I was a child I would be sent into the ghettos of the city. I would be sent alone, a small child, with a pouch of gold, and I would give it to any and all who asked or who needed it.” Nicci’s voice joined theirs. “If someone asked for the clothes off my back? I was to give them. Life, as I was repeatedly told, was only to be lived in the service of those around me. That all that I was and all that I could ever be, was a tool to be used for the betterment of those worse off than I. If I had a loaf of bread? It was my duty to give it to another, for how could I ever think I was worth more than someone else.” Nicci sighed. “Personal gain was unheard of.”

Rikka looked to Kahlan, “There was nothing but duty.”

“Life was to be lived only in the service of others.” Kahlan smiled sadly. “We are all very much the same.”

Rikka nodded.

Nicci smiled, and it was as warm and genuine as it was sad. “We are. And we know now that while our teachings were beneficial, as they made us who we are today? That there is something more. There is duty, and service, and loyalty. And there is…”

“Love.” Kahlan finished. “Do you know that your life is worth living? Not to the detriment of others, not ignoring those who may need your assistance, but knowing now that if you give someone your last loaf of bread because they want it, you are not truly helping them. You are holding off their hunger for a moment. But if you were to share your bread, and if you were to assist them in becoming more than what they are? Perhaps that is where the true service to them would lay?” She turned to Rikka. “In following orders blindly you lost your sense of self, you thought you were merely a tool to be used. But do you know now that you have feelings, and a soul? That you can have loyalty and devotion, and that you can also have a conscious, and make decisions based on your own core beliefs?”

The other two women were quiet for a moment, the fire popped between them, embers lifted into the air, minuscule flashes of light.

“Do you know that you can honor your duty, and still be happy?” Nicci asked Kahlan.

She looked back to the blonde, and she thought. They were both correct in what they were saying, and so was Kahlan. Perhaps it was not one or the other. Perhaps she did not have to choose between Cara and being Mother Confessor. Perhaps in love there was balance. “I have hope.”

“The Imperial Order seeks to swallow and consume hope. That is why they are dangerous. Yes, Six is terrifying in what she wishes to accomplish. And if she were to gain control of you Confessor, her wishes would come true. Yes, a Dream Walker and her magic, to be able to slip into another mind and control them completely? This is terrifying as well. But what is more consuming, and more horrific? Is mankind. When they as a whole determine that everything they see is everything they want and everything they are owed? When they will with violence and abuse ensure that they take, and denounce all personal responsibility for their actions? When they as a horde move to destroy hope? That is what we should truly fear, and fight against.”

* * * * *

Perhaps she believed she was being cunning, moving behind her on the stairs, but Cara knew she was there, had felt her waiting at the very top of the stairs, as if a spider, waiting patiently. Even without the added surge in her blood, without the gift that was the power of being Lord Rahl, Cara could feel her. It was if the walls heaved, spoke and warned her. As if the memories of this temple, all those moments etched into the stone walls that were the silent witness of so much, sighed for Cara.

This stone had seen so much. So much done to her, and so much that she had done.

When she professed, and felt, pride at being Mord–Sith she meant it. Every word spoken and every feeling inside of her she meant. The darkness that she had allowed to roam free in this place, the abuse and the breakings done by her own hand, were all a part of her. Days when she would fall into an exhausted sleep in her rooms, arms aching from hours of swinging the whip, her hands burned and swollen from the pain of gripping the Agiel. It was her duty and it was her pride at a job well done. The past was bitter, and it rose like bile in her throat.

The darkness that lived inside of her, that sang to her when she lived inside of these walls, and when she thrived in the service to Darken Rahl, it was a part of her, and its voice was strong. It had been so strong that she would listen to it, as she traveled with The Seeker and Mother Confessor. When Cara began to realize her eyes would linger on the Mother Confessor, it was the voice of darkness that told her not to trust the woman in white. It was the voice of her darkness that would tell her that nothing she did, nor nothing she could do would ever remove the stain of blood from her hands, and that even if Cara did manage to create an opening through the thick stone walls that guarded her heart, that she would never and could never love Kahlan. She was too dark, too evil to even think of loving her; that just one touch from Cara would taint and destroy the Mother Confessor, in all of her noble purity. That darkness was born in this temple, where she was brought as a child, where in the gloom, rats fed on the flesh of her toes and ears. It was here, in this monument of stone that she learned to partition her mind, and where the darkness rose within her. It was powerful, and it was relentless. And it was a part of her. It had taken Cara time, slowly gathered and nurtured time, to know that darkness was not evil, and that she could, even with that darkness being part of her, love. That she could touch Kahlan and not ruin her in the process.

When she thought of Kahlan she was reminded of what she felt in this place, when Triana was at her side. She had felt lust and loathing. The dance they did together was one of punishment and dominance, always battling to see who would be on top. It was humiliation and desperate moments. It was never the soothing calm of love; it was never the blinding passion that was found only in true love. It was the opposite of what she felt when she looked at Kahlan, and when Kahlan touched her, even when she used the whip on her skin, when she broke her into a million jagged pieces, there was always the tempering of love, of understanding. What she had felt with Triana was a distant shadow of what emotions could have been. It was the negative, the opposite of what she now knew.

This place was almost the personification of all the events and moments that made Cara what she was. It was strong, and it was cold. It seemed as though it was built, block by block, stone by stone on the sighs and the melodious screams of a thousand breakings, a thousand lives that were altered never to be revived as they were before. She was a child here. In this place she watched the child she was die, and in her place rose the Mord–Sith. And just as this temple was strong so was Cara. Her innocence may have died here, but her love was reborn in Aydindril. Two testaments to power, two places on the opposite ends of existence almost, but both a part of her.

At the time Cara had no accurate understanding of what could be, and had blinding held onto the darkness she recognized inside of Triana as it was a reflection of her own. But this woman, she never made Cara’s blood race, never made her heart pound in perfect desperation.

Where she could gladly lay back and surrender to Kahlan, she would never surrender to Triana.

Perhaps that was the key? In love there was the surrender, and the conquering. There was the balance and the equality.

There was truth and harmony.

Cara knew she was a juxtaposition. She was a conundrum, she was love, encased in blood and pain.

Cara squeezed her eyes closed, thinking of Kahlan, focusing on her smiling eyes, and the soft caress of her hand.

Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword, as she pulled herself from her thoughts and her memories, as the world of freezing winds and howling silence swirled around her again, and Cara, knowing eyes were on her, stepped towards the large doors on the other side of the chamber. Triana slowly began moving down the stairs, and Cara ignored her for a moment. If there had been an arrow aimed at her, poised to shoot her down, it would have been done already. Something else was in motion here. With the memories vanquished and ignoring Triana, Cara could feel the faint hum coming from the other side of the door, coming closer.

The leather of her glove creaked as her fist tightened, as her lips pulled into a half smile.

Two Mord–Sith, with bewildered looks on their faces stepped out of the dining hall, shocked in seeing Cara standing before them. Perhaps shocked as well to feel the pulse of power coming from her. Their faces still held that bewildered look, as first one, and then the second of their heads rolled across the floor. As Cara stilled the sword, she could hear the first and then second drop of blood that landed on the stone, before their bodies dropped.

“Bravo!” Triana said from behind her.

Cara’s fingers twitched on the hilt of the sword, just for a beat her mind flashed with the blissful vision of her spinning around and slicing Triana’s head from her body. Perhaps it was their history, or perhaps it was that she felt so very sluggish and tired, that stilled her hand. It was as if exhaustion was reaching up through the stone under her feet, moving up her legs; the thick tendrils of it wrapping around her like a wild vine. She looked over her shoulder, and as her eyes narrowed in on Triana’s smugly smiling face, she was besieged with a nauseous feeling inside, remembering all the words spoken between them, all of the things they had done to one another, always in an attempt to control.

Behind her eyes a stab of pain flared, only to leave just as quickly.

“Swords aren’t really our weapon of choice, but hey, everyone is entitled to try new things.” Triana crossed her arms, and Cara sighed, turning back around, knowing Triana was not going anywhere, not concerned with showing the other Mord–Sith her back. “I heard you have been trying out being good as well. But really, Cara? Good?” Just the sound of her voice, and its forced confidence brought a smirking smile to Cara’s lips, as Triana moved around her. She could feel her dark eyes examining. “You look weak. You always did go a little weak for brunettes.”

“And blondes and redheads.” Cara prodded.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

“I did. You should have stayed dead. I will just do it all over again I suppose.”

“So overconfident. That is what earned you a beating and banishment before.”

“A beating that did not come close to killing me.” She turned and glared at her. “So who truly is the weak one?”

“We shall see who is weak, Cara. I plan to break you.”

“You do?” Cara laughed. “You never could, and you never will. I am not some first year; I am not some weak man. I am not easily broken.”

“Berdine told me that the Mother Confessor broke you.” Triana said, coming to stand before her, and she moved to touch her cheek. Cara thought it brave, as she still held the blood soaked sword in her hand. Surprisingly she felt herself wince. Not because of Triana’s proximity, but knowing that she had been the one to strike out at Berdine enough to get her to reveal anything about Kahlan. Noticing the wince, Triana boldly gripped Cara’s chin, but Cara pulled away. While her muscles were becoming sluggish, she was still in enough control of herself, fighting through the exhaustion to not allow herself to be touched so easily. Triana smirked, misunderstanding. “I severely doubt that pathetic Confessor managed to do what eluded me for years.”

Cara grinned. “Oh she did. Repeatedly. And it was tortuous bliss.”

“You may have thought so? But when I break you? Then you will know what it feels like to truly be broken.”

Cara laughed and took a step back, away from her. “Do you think that is possible? For you to do anything to me?”

“You are only storing the power for Lord Rahl. You are not my master.”

So she could feel the power, Cara thought. That was interesting, that Triana was so oblivious that she believed she could withstand any command from Cara. Perhaps she could fight the urges, or rally against the orders, but no matter what, Cara could and would control Triana. Whether the brunette knew it or not.

“I was your mistress. More than once.”

“And you loved every second you humiliated me. Well, I am about to return the favor. You can compel me all you want, to not hurt you, but I will–“

“Why would I do that? Come, Triana.” Cara extended her hands out wide, dropping the sword to the stone ground with a clang. The sharp stab of pain moved through Cara’s head again, this time lingering, and she closed her eyes as she slowly ordered Triana. “Do your worst. String me up and whip me until I bleed. Do it.”

“Wha.. wh…”

“I am so very tired.” Cara sighed, the pain leaving again. She was not sure why it was suddenly coming and then going, but she had an idea. As the pain left she felt so devastatingly tired. She meant it when she said those words to Triana. As she opened her eyes and saw the look of confusion in her eyes, she felt her arms dropping to her sides, and could feel her bones, as if they were turning to stone, weighing so much. She just wanted to lay down, to rest. “I remember when you would try to break me, when you would pathetically try to hurt me? I would have the most pleasant dreams.”

Cara’s knees hit the ground, after the impact of Triana’s strike across her mouth. The armored gloves she was wearing had split her lip. Good. Cara wanted some time. She laughed, teasing and tauntingly, and Triana reacted just as she hoped. Her fist grabbed Cara’s hair and she punched her in the face; once twice, and then a third time. Cara was still laughing, still smiling. She knew she needed this. She had been completely honest with Triana, in the past she did tend to pass out and rest when Triana took the lash to her. Roughly Triana pulled her by her hair, across the stone floor, through the pooling blood from the headless Mord–Sith.

As she was thrown into the torture room, her laughter ceased, she was almost too tired now to laugh. Closing her eyes as she felt the knife’s blade along her skin, skinning her figuratively of her leather, she pictured Kahlan’s eyes, and her smile, and felt herself falling, between reality and the darkness.

* * * * *

Her body felt numb, and her eyes moved over the darkness, looking for shadows or the slightest indication that they were not alone. Kahlan hoped that someone or thing would emerge from the shadows. She wanted, no she needed, to lash out. She wanted to battle. Her muscles needed to move, her body begged for the momentum, the dance with death. Her ears wanted to hear the clang of steel, her mouth wanted to taste the bitterness of pain.

Her nostrils flared with her forced of her sigh, as she looked over her shoulder, at Rikka who was standing behind her, arms crossed.

“You should be sleeping.” Kahlan said.

“Should? I am dead. Sleep doesn’t mean much anymore.”

“You are not dead.”

“Oh, I am. I died weeks ago.” Rikka stepped closer. “Did we upset you? With the things we said?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Spirits, you are all so very… “

“Annoying?” Rikka offered.

“Focused is more the word I was looking for.”

“Ah.” Rikka nodded. “You are up, and watching, your body is literally trembling. And I am pretty sure I heard your teeth grinding from back there. So. All of that leads me to think that you have been thinking and have decided something?” Rikka looked at her, searching her face.

Kahlan crossed her arms. “I have.”

“And.”

“Oh. You want to know what I decided?”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“Hm.” Kahlan bit her lip, wondering again if her plan made any sense. If there was one person here, she was sure it was Rikka who would tell her if it did not. “If I asked you to do something, would you?”

“Depends on what you asked.” Rikka set her hands on her hips, and Kahlan smiled. That was the RIkka she knew from their time in Aydindril. That was the Rikka who would stubbornly and forcefully do whatever needed to be done. The no nonsense Rikka who had taken a small slice of joy in shoving Kahlan’s head under the water of the bath.

“Would you return south? Would you use this need you have to kill each and every day as a blessing, and will you systematically slaughter every member of the Imperial Order you come across?” Kahlan did not blink, or breathe. She waited.

Rikka’s fingers on her left hand taped absently on her hip, unconsciously. “Killing.” One word.

Kahlan’s brows rose slightly. “I was thinking that you could take…. Orsk with you?”

“That giant puppy?” Rikka balked.

“He loves battle as much as you do.”

Rikka’s face turned hard. “This? This is the request I expected from the Mother Confessor, and Queen of D’Hara. This? This makes sense, Kahlan Amnell. Your giant puppy and I will leave at dawn, and we will slaughter as many of those little weasels as we can. You know, that if we kill a hundred of them a day for a hundred days, it will mean nothing. Not to them. They are too large.”

“I know Rikka. But still, be the fly in their honey. Be the tiny pebble in their boot.”

Rikka nodded, and then, surprisingly her arms were around Kahlan, and she pulled her into a fierce and fairly painful hug.

“What?”

“You know I will never see you again. That I will not return.”

“Rikka don’t say such things.”

“I died once; I have no fear of doing it again, with more permanence. But. I wanted to thank you.”

“Me?”

“Shut up and let me talk.” Rikka growled into her ear, and Kahlan nodded, putting her own arms gently around Rikka, hesitantly, as if she were hugging a wild animal. “Thank you. For the time you gave us all in Aydindril. For being a Lord Rahl that made me understand what it means to serve with honor. And for showing us all that love is strength.”

“I..”

“I said shut up. We will not ever talk of this. Don’t you dare tell Cara I said anything. “

Kahlan nodded.

“You are a wonderful woman, and I thank you. So I will do this, and I will kill them all happily, and you will do all you can to stay alive. If I see you too soon? In this world or the other, I will beat you senseless.”

Kahlan laughed, even though warm tears rolled down her cheeks. “Agreed.”

* * * * *

Her head fell back, and she was choking. Cara blinked; she had been sure that just a moment before she had been lying on the ground, her leathers being cut from her. But as she blinked, and as she choked she realized her arms were above her, that her feet were nowhere near the ground and that what she was choking on was blood. Her blood.

Cara’s head rolled forward, her lips parted, freeing the blood, and it poured from her. She blinked again, her ears popped and her body burned as she became aware of the situation. She was swaying; the iron shackles were cutting into her wrists, making her arms slick with blood. The blood from her mouth had been caused by the Agiel that was pressed again, under her chin. The pain blossomed, but it was tolerable. Really all of it was, when compared to other pain that she had endured in her life.

“I thought that would get your attention. Really, passing out so soon, I had more respect for you.” Triana said as she pulled the Agiel away.

“I didn’t pass out. I took a nap.”

The Agiel struck her cheek, but did not remove the smile from Cara’s face. “I am going to make you beg for death.”

“Doubtful.”

“You will suffer for having killed me.”

“Can’t you get over that? Mord–Sith die. You had been trying to kill me for years.”

“No. I was trying to break you. There is a difference.”

“Not to me.”

“You are such a stubborn woman.” Triana huffed, her fingers releasing the Agiel, causing the familiar chime of the gold chain to ring out in the quiet room. She stepped closer to Cara, her hands cupping her face. Her dark eyes searched Cara’s face, looking for something, but whatever it was Cara was confident she would never find it. “You loved me, Cara. I knew it. And I was going to use it to break you. Before you succumbed to the madness.”

Cara laughed. “Madness? Thinking that I would ever love you? That is madness.”

“You did. Admit it.” Triana stressed, her fingers moving over her bruised cheek.

Cara swallowed the blood still dripping into her mouth. “I cared for you. There is a distinct difference.”

“Not to Mord–Sith.”

“You never did see the world clearly.”

“Cara, you are a fool. A stubborn fool. Tell me why. Tell me why you betrayed us, why you followed Richard.”

“What does it matter? I no longer follow him.”

“But you did. You turned your back on your vows, your duty. For what?”

“No.”

While Triana back handed her across the face, she had removed her armored gloves, so the impact was not as great. Her cheeks brightened with red rage. “Tell me!”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It damn well should matter, Cara. It had to have been something important.”

“You want to know? Really?” Cara snapped, and she wanted to see the look on Triana’s face when she knew the reason why, she wanted to see if it would even register on her simple–minded face. . “I did it to save all of the Sisters of the Agiel. I saw a future, the future if Darken Rahl had succeeded with his plans for the boxes of Orden. And that was not a future where the Sisters of the Agiel lived. I did it… to save us all.”

Silence stretched between them, and Triana took a step back, her face remained clouded, and now Cra wondered why she had bothered to tell her anything. At least Cara knew that future would not come to pass. There would never be the siege by Darken Rahl’s Dragon Corps. They would never storm this temple and slaughter each and every Mord–Sith. There would never be a future where Berdine’s body rotted on the floor, starved. There would never be the moment where a sword pinned Triana’s body to the wall. None of that would ever be. Because Cara had helped Richard, because for that odd reason she was compelled to turn her back on all she knew and assist him. That decision put Cara on a very particular path. The path which led to Triana humiliating her, banishing her, and lead her to travel with Richard… and Kahlan. It taught Cara the Mord–Sith how to love, as she had as a child. To love completely and selflessly. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of love inside of her heart, and she did not want to grant Triana the satisfaction of seeing her eyes colored with love. Love that was for Kahlan alone.

“If what you say is true… then… why did you still follow him after Darken Rahl was sent to the Keeper?”

“So soon you forget. You banished me.”

“Perhaps I was too rash.” Triana said, her voice becoming softer.

Cara opened her eyes. “Or not enough.”

Triana’s eyes winced, as if Cara’s insult had been a strike across her face. Her dark eyes became darker, her mouth pulled into a sneer. “I still cannot believe that you… you Cara, are willing to kneel beside the white skirts of the Mother Confessor.”

“If I kneel, she kneels with me.”

“Cara, Cara Cara. You can only fool yourself for so long. This, love,” Triana laughed as she turned away and walked to the wall where there hung a myriad of implements, “it isn’t you. You have never been one to be obedient. And yet there you were, bowing to the Mother Confessor. She lords over you, she commands you. How can you be content like that? You need to be the one on top. The one who lashes out and commands.” Triana selected the long thick bull whip, and unfurled it as she walked back towards Cara. “I doubt very much someone like her would let you do the things that you used to do to me, the things that would bring you so much pleasure.” She snapped the whip once against the floor, before she took the stance. “Perhaps that is it. Perhaps that is why you came here and did not fight back. Is that it Cara? Are you here, hoping and aching for me to do those things to you, to fan the flames of your hate, before I submit, before I let you do each and every one of those dark things to me?” Her arm pulled back and Cara’s skin trembled with the familiarity of the whistle in the wind before the braided leather met her side, leaving its profound crimson stain over her ribs. “Let’s play, Cara.”

* * * * *

“Don’t go, please don’t go.” She heard a familiar voice saying softly, and she felt the warmth of a body near hers.

The darkness had been quiet, and she had been floating, wonderfully surrounded by warm silence. There was no pain, no noise, nothing but floating. She wasn’t sure if those were hands she felt on her shoulders, but she was becoming aware of the fact that she was cold now, and no longer floating. Light seemed to come from far away, filling her eyes with red.

Red like blood.

Those were hands. Hands moving over her face, her neck. And she was cold, and pain began on the soles of her feet and began moving higher, up her legs, torso, arms, neck, to her head. Slowly she opened her eyes, and looked up into her heaven, into the warm brown eyes she loved and could always find calm safety in.

“I’m here.” Berdine’s voice cracked as she spoke.

Raina’s hand brushed along her cheek, her face, before lips met hers. A tender chaste kiss, that pushed aside the pain for a moment, and then she was looking into those rich brown eyes again, seeing her lover’s face, her hair hanging around her, in thick curls. “Oh thank the Spirits. I was so terrified.”

“I’m here.” Berdine said again, lifting her arm with a groan, her hand moving to touch Raina’s cheek, confirming that they were both there. Raina’s skin was cold, but so soft, delicate. Berdine noticed water dripping from her own arm.

“And here you had better stay.” Raina growled, before pressing their lips together again. Even though her lips protested with pain, Berdine welcomed the touch, the passion of it.

“Mm.” She and cupped the back of Raina’s head, holding her close, and deepening their kiss. Through the aches and pains of her body, the comfort and the bliss she found in that kiss was a hundred times more rejuvenating, life giving.

She groaned when those wet lips were pulled from hers.

Raina whispered into her ear. “I was so worried.”

“Why? What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No.” Her eyes opened, seeing that they were in one of the bathing chambers. There was a thick steam rolling over the tops of the stone floor.

“It’s been over a week since I saw you last. Even that was just in passing, when they took you past the room I was in.”

Berdine blinked, trying to clear more of the fog from her mind. “I…I don’t remember.” She pressed her forehead to Raina’s and breathed in. Despite the scent of sweat and blood, and a familiar sour scent of eucalyptus oil, she could smell the indescribable scent of her lover’s skin.

“I am not sure how long you have been here.” Raina said.

Berdine looked around, seeing how the flickering flames in the torches on the walls highlighted the damp walls. Now that she was completely aware, she could feel the sheen of water on her skin, and knew that she had been in the bath. It was a miracle that she had not drowned. She swallowed. “Is this real? Are you?”

“Berdine.” Raina sighed, and her arms tightened. “I am here. And you are here. I swear to you, this is real.”

She sighed. “Are you alright?” Berdine’s voice was thick with concern.

“Don’t worry. What’s past is past.”

“I’ll kill them.” Berdine growled, feeling the surge of rage moving through the pain in her body, taking it and using it as fuel.

“While your sentiment is touching, I think they will be taken care of. Cara–“

“She is here?”

“Yes.”

“Damnit, why is she here?” Berdine sat up. This was a trap and she had been clear about that, for Cara to just waltz into the temple was foolish.

“She came for you.”

“Us.” Berdine stressed.

“Us.” Raina smiled, and it was so true, and unexpected for a moment that Berdine could not help but to return it. She stood, before extending her hand to Berdine, who took it, and rose slowly. The weakness in her body seemed to fall away much like the water from her skin. “She is the Lord Rahl.”

“I know.”

“No. no.” Raina shook her head. “Cara is.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Hate to say it, but you are wrong. It is possible. And what’s more? She has commanded us.” Raina looked up at her with brown eyes that seemed to darken now with purpose.

“She must be loving this.” Berdine grumbled.

“Possibly.” Raina smiled,

“She, she expects us to just… walk out the doors?” Berdine asked skeptically.

Raina offered. “Once you are well enough.”

“Well enough? I am breathing. Let’s go.”

“Lord Rahl has commanded us to take wing and hurry to the Mother Confessor.”

“Take. Oh Spirits.” Berdine’s eyes closed as her stomach turned. She felt Raina move closer, giving her a strong hug, understanding all too well how she felt. “Well… fine. But she will hear about this. I hate flying.”

* * * * *

The room was considerably warmer now that Triana had paused to drink water, and then start a fire in the massive hearth. This was one of the larger torture rooms, and it held two massive hearths on either side of the room, large enough for a man to stand inside of. It was to allow the heat to burn so hotly in the rooms that it added that aspect to the training as well. Just as there was, on the higher floors, a room that was open to the winds from the ocean, and in the dead of winter one could freeze to death there. Some young women, not yet Mord–Sith in fact had.

Cara could see the sweat beading up on Triana’s forehead as she again pulled back her arm and unleashed the long length of leather. It was more like a caress than an assault of pain as it wrapped itself around Cara’s thigh.

“If you want to hurt me, do it.” Cara ridiculed.

“So readily accepting of a breaking.”

“There is satisfaction in pain. Perhaps I am in the mood for such satisfaction. Yet you keep me waiting, Triana.”

The whip was dropped and she moved closer, her lips were parted as she breathed heavily with exertion and the heat of the room. The look of desire in her eyes annoyed Cara. “You are not the Cara I remember.”

“Well, you are the Triana I remember.” She slammed her head into Triana’s and she staggered backwards. “Always talking, always thinking you know what is happening, when you are a pawn. You are being used and you like it that way. Whatever you were promised? Will never come to pass.”

“He swore to me.” She nearly screamed, hand against her forehand. “He will be made flesh and and.”

“Triana. Shut up and get on with it already. I am so very tired of the sound of your voice.”

The Agiel slammed into Cara’s skull, burning a path of agony through her mind, and it still did not even compare to the pain she knew at the hands of Kahlan. Not the emotional pain that she fled from, or the pain found in release. The pain that is only possible in love.

Her body swayed, beyond her control. Her eyes could no longer see. There was just the burning, familiar pain.

“STOP! What are you doing you fool? If you kill her you destroy everything.” A low and angry voice spoke.

Even in her current blind delirium, Cara smiled, hearing Darken Rahl’s voice. The Agiel moved away from Cara, and in doing so the pain lessened, and her vision began to spark back, and though Cara could only see shadows and blurred images, it was enough, to make out the shape of Darken Rahl surrounded by the flames in the hearth, and Triana looking at him, her back to Cara.

“You said… to break her.” Triana’s voice weakly muttered.

“You are daft.” Darken Rahl screamed at her, and she moved back, cowering. Cara smiled. Only Triana would cower from a specter that could not harm her.

Foolish and naïve. That was Triana. And if she feared being hurt, Cara was more than happy to oblige. Using the muscles of her back and abdomen she lifted her legs, bent her knees and slammed her feet into Triana’s back, propelling her forward, so her face slammed into the thick white marble mantel. The sound of cracking teeth was lovely, not even marred by Triana’s grunt of shock, or the low laughter from the specter of Darken Rahl.

“That is my girl.” He said.

“Never yours.” Cara hissed, swaying on the chains.

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

She blinked her eyes, and then closed them again, against the hard light that burned around Darken Rahl. “Go away. I was just beginning to enjoy the torture.”

“I am sure that may be partially true. You always did have an appreciation for the finer aspects of pain. But you need to focus. You, my dear girl, are here, and you need to become. You are what all of this hinges upon. Your power is the only thing that can save us all.”

“You have gone insane while in the Underworld, Rahl. I am nothing.”

“You are wrong. You are everything. There is a prophecy.”

“Stuff and nonsense.”

Ignoring her he continued, “Which clearly states that you will choose… and you will choose life. And in doing so? Well… Cara, if you do this you will ensure that the war is won, and that the darkness that is the Imperial Order is defeated.”

“I do not believe in prophesy.”

“It believes in you.”

A pain radiated through her brain, and she glared to Triana, who was still standing some five feet away. The pain was so similar to that of an Agiel, but Cara realized it was not. It was caused by her own mind.

“Ah. I knew they would start soon.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” She hissed through her clenched teeth.

“The headaches.”

“I can handle a headache.”

“Not such as these. They will be debilitating, they will kill you. Very soon in fact.”

“You are lying.”

“I could be. Perhaps we should wait and see? Perhaps you can live through the first one. Perhaps even two, as you are nothing if not Pain’s Mistress. Yet in time? You will die. And when you do? I will be where I am, and you will be with me and no magic, and no breath of life will bring you back. The bond of the house of Rahl can only be managed and maintained by one with Rahl blood.”

Cara’s chin dropped against her chest, and as the pain flashed stronger it made speaking difficult. “It doesn’t matter if I die.” As if in a flash, the pain in her mind ceased, snuffed out. Feeling her eyes turn hard she looked up at him. “Everyone and everything dies, eventually.”

“Would Kahlan agree? Would she thrive in a world without you?”

“She would survive. She will always survive.”

“Cara, do you think so little of yourself? She may live, for a time. But survive? No. She will not. Not without you.”

“More of that prophecy nonsense?”

“Life and Love nonsense.” Her said evenly.

“I would rather not take love advice from you.”

Part 24

A serpentine smile graced his ghostly lips, and she was fairly certain his eyes were twinkling with restrained laughter. He always did like to talk, especially during training sessions. Being nothing more than a collection of mists and thoughts must be agony for him, because the Darken Rahl Cara knew was almost addicted to the sensations of touch. “I think I preferred it when you were not so disagreeable.”

“When was that? When I was unconscious?”

“I was lamenting the days when you were subservient to me. But now that you mention it.” He shrugged. “You will help me. You need to help me. You will in fact help me because you want to.”

Triana leaned her back against the stone wall, her eyes focused and watching closely, as she spit, and then wiped blood from her mouth. Her eyes seemed drawn hypnotically to the hazy image of her long dead master.

“You are out of your mind.” Cara snapped.

“Oh, I do not think so.”

She laughed softly, turning her head away, her eyes moving over the small stone ledge on the wall, where there lay a dozen or so different implements all designed for torture. Specific, grueling, brutal cruelty. “Torture me all you want. I will not help you.”

“Cara? You will do as I ask, when I ask. Because if you do? You will be granted the one thing in all the world you truly desire.”

Slowly her neck turned, and her eyes focused on his serious expression. “There is nothing I want. And certainly nothing you have to offer me.” Even as she spoke those words her mind procured for her an image. One thing that she did in fact want more than anything. Disgusted with herself for even thinking of it, for even thinking that he may be able to actually grant her wish, she closed her eyes, and rested her head against her arm.

He laughed. “Ah, see, but there is.”

* * * * *

The sun above was burning down on her shoulders, reminding the cracking and barren earth that summer was quickly approaching. It did not seem to matter that as they moved further north the temperature dipped. The sun’s rays were dazzling with their intensity. Kahlan had been this far north before. She had even been to the Mord–Sith temple once, and she knew that on the other side of the jagged and inhospitable cliffs was the turbulent ocean. It churned with deep blues that were almost black, and the foam from the force of slamming against the rocks turned a sickly yellow at times, vibrant light green at others. It was not until she traveled with Richard and Cara that she had seen the oceans. Her youth they seemed mythical places, much like D’Hara and Westland. Places that existed but no one had seen them in years. When Zedd had raised the Boundary isolating the Midlands from D’Hara and Westland, either purposefully or not, the Boundary also blocked the Midlands from the sea.

She watched Nicci riding ahead of her, focused, her blonde hair pulled back in the rush of wind. Was what she said true? Was there an entire world on the other side of the oceans? Were their people and places she could not even imagine?

Kahlan had never felt small, truly small, in all of her life, but thinking back on the pebbles Nicci had held and shown them? As she described for them the size and scope of what they were to face. For that moment she did feel very small.

She urged Nick on, and he gladly increased the width of this strides and the ground between her and Nicci seemed to fold and disappear.

“Were you lying?” Kahlan asked loudly, over the hiss of the wind, as she came up beside her.

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Perhaps I am learning that you have no problem with lying.”

She urged her grey horse to slow, and glared at Kahlan. “I do not lie, all the time. I merely omit.”

“Sorry. Right. Omit. Completely different.”

“It is.” Her light blue eyes seemed annoyed. “What do you want to know now?”

“You talked about there being another world besides this one.”

“Ah.” Nicci nodded, and looked forward. “I was not lying. Once there were books detailing them, but most have been destroyed, if not all, when the Imperial Order came to power two hundred years ago. But since then, there would be ships that returned from those places. They would come into port, in the Old World.” She seemed to sigh, but it was hard for Kahlan to tell. “Sometimes some of the sailors would live long enough to tell us their tales.”

“Live long enough?”

“Oh they were all slaughtered. Especially those who were nor borne of the Old World.”

“You cannot be serious.” Kahlan said, her eyes going wide.

“Why not? Why is that so hard to believe? Those worlds?” Nicci turned back to her. “Kahlan those worlds, what they are, is so very foreign and so very toxic to this world. The Imperial Order, and the Sisters of the Light could never allow the knowledge of those places to move through the masses.”

“But.”

“No! No but. You need to put it from your mind. Be aware that if Six gets her way you will most certainly be on a ship and you will sail the oceans, and you will land ashore in worlds that have no magic, that believe in no magic. Full of people who are every bit as inverted, as selfish, and nihilistic as those of the Imperial Order. But they have something far more worse at their disposal.” Her voice was as icy as her eyes. “Those people, if you can call them that, are completely ignorant to magic, to the truth in prophesy. You could move through them, confessing them and they would never even understand. From what I know? Those places are worse than the Underworld, in their torment and their lack of hope. “

“Perhaps they just need to see, to understand.”

“Enough!” Nicci brought her horse to a rough stop. “I don’t want to talk about this. It doesn’t matter. You are becoming as annoying as Richard with all of your incestuous questions. One into the other into another. Focus on what is happen, right here, right now!”

Kahlan felt her temper rise, and her face go blank. “I am focused. I merely want to know.”

“Shut up.” Nicci shook her head. A shadow passed over Nicci’s face, Kahlan’s eyes watched it move across the short grass and dirt on the ground. A bird moving between them and the sun above. Kahlan sighed, perhaps Nicci was right, allowing her mind to wander down the uncharted path of these other places and other possibilities was imprudent. It would distract her from things happening around her, in the world she knew and she loved, and she needed to protect. When Nicci spoke again her voice was low. “Now that Rikka and Orsk are gone it is just you and I.”

“Yes.”

“Was that wise? Sending them away, when now I could kill you where you stand.”

“You could. But you won’t.” Kahlan’s hands folded over the horn of her saddle, as her body relaxed. For all the power Nicci had, there was something in her eyes, something in the way that she carried herself that told Kahlan that for now, she was not a threat. No matter the words she spoke.

Her eyebrow rose, “Won’t I?”

“You won’t for the same reason I won’t kill you.” Kahlan said sincerely, her eyes catching the shadows moving along the ground again.

Nicci nodded. “Ah. I see.”

“I hope that you do Nicci. I honestly hope that you do.” Kahlan meant what she said. She had a deep hope that Nicci would see that she could be a force for good, and that to do so she would not need to follow any one person, but could follow her very own path and desires.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement, and for half a moment thought it was just a shadow again, but then Kahlan noticed it was dense; it was an actual crow, banking very close to them. Usually crows were not so aggressive. Her eyes narrowed, watching it as it turned again and then another met it in the sky. That was also not unheard of but certainly not common. As the two birds veered around, they began moving directly towards them, Kahlan was about to speak, but the words did not have time to be formed.

Just as they were nearly beside them, the crows began to materialize, and one, as she took the form of a towering Mord–Sith, her hand went around Nicci’s neck and lifted her from the back if her horse, and slammed her to the ground. The other emerged, from avian to Mord–Sith, and was suddenly standing beside Nick, who shook slightly. Raina took his reins in her gloved hand and smiled up at Kahlan.

“Hello Mother Confessor.” She said, and patted Nick’s neck. “And hello again to you, Nick.”

“Was that necessary?” Nicci groaned.

Kahlan turned sharply, to see Berdine holding Nicci by the throat on the ground. It had all happened so fast that there were still plumes of dust dancing around them in the air.

“Depends. Who are you?” Berdine growled, and Kahlan could see the muscles of her back tensing.

Kahlan tried to explain. “That is Nicci.”

“Is she a threat?” Raina asked, as she, now holding the reins to Nicci’s horse as well, turned both horses around.

“Sometimes.” Kahlan answered honestly.

“Are all Mord–Sith so stubbornly beautiful?” Nicci choked out.

“Most. Not all.” Berdine said, and Kahlan could see her dangerous smile.

Raina nodded. “Oh yes, I remember, that one. What was her name?”

“I can’t recall but she was ghastly.” Berdine actually seemed to shudder slightly, and Kahlan’s hand went over her mouth to stifle her laugh.

“Eh, she didn’t live long.” Raina shrugged, and catching Kahlan’s eyes winked. Even with the fading bruises on the side of her face, her brown eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth. Clearly these two still enjoyed their verbal acrobatics, just as much as Kahlan remembered. She was thrilled that whatever may have befallen them since they left Aydindril in the winter that it had not changed them.

“Thankfully.”

“Are you two quite finished?” Nicci snapped. “I would like your hand off my throat, and to stand.”

“Well, that is up to the Mother Confessor.” Berdine explained.

“It’s all right, Berdine. So long as you do not retaliate Nicci.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Nicci sighed. Berdine removed her grip from around her throat, and as she stood, she offered her hand to Nicci who looked at is as if it were some extremely dangerous object. And she was very correct in her assessment. Kahlan smiled, as she saw the conflict move over Nicci’s face, before she reached and took the offered hand. Berdine easily lifted her to her feet, nearly off of her feet, in fact.

“I heard the word kill. So.” Berdine offered in a way of explanation. “And while the Mother Confessor may have granted you a reprieve.”

“Yes yes. You are a very formidable Mord–Sith. The both of you are.” Nicci brushed the dust from her dress.

“And you are so powerful you make my skin itch.” Raina said honestly.

“I thought that was just me.” Kahlan said absently.

“So there still is a little Mord–Sith in there.” Raina said looking up at her.

“A little. Not much.”

“Is that something you can ever undo?” Nicci asked, moving to take her horse’s reins back from Raina, who had decided by the smile on her face and her hard eyes not to.

“No. It is not.” Berdine said coming to stand behind Raina and crossing her arms.

“I think… you may be incorrect.”

“You think I may?” Berdine looked up at Kahlan. “Can I hit her?”

“No.” Kahlan laughed. “Just… allow Nicci her world view. I find that I have to.”

“Well. Enough talking. I am ordered to escort you back to the D’Haran Army and the People’s Palace.” Raina said, rolling her eyes.

“As am I. We are compelled by our bond to carry out the will of Lord Rahl.” Berdine’s face looked as though she had just put a lemon to her tongue.

“Are they always like this?” Nicci asked. “Rikka and Cara never spoke this oddly, nor as much.”

“We are special.” Raina offered and Berdine smiled.

“Yes. You are. And I am so very glad to see you both again. I hope you know that.” They both nodded. “And I hope you also know that I will not be going to the People’s Palace until I do so standing next to Cara.”

“We know.” Raina grinned.

“We are also ordered to guard you as if you were Lord Rahl, and to protect you, whatever you determine to do.”

“Cara understands your stubbornness.” Nicci said.

“I should hope so. Shall we go? How far is it to the Mord–Sith Temple?” Kahlan asked.

“We left at dawn.”

“We were flying.” Raina corrected, leaning into Berdine.

“Right.” Berdine tapped her lip. “Perhaps fifteen leagues?”

“Then we had better hurry. Nicci, would you mind riding with Raina? I think Nick here can carry Berdine and I.”

“Does it matter what I say?” Nicci asked, pulling herself back up onto her horse.

Berdine smirked, leaning closer to Raina, but saying it loud enough for them all to hear. “I told you I was the Mother Confessor’s favorite.”

* * * * *

“You think you can become living flesh again, and then what? Become Lord Rahl? Your generals are dead or have vowed to serve the Mother Confessor. I will not allow you to put that or all the people of the Midlands and D’Hara in jeopardy.”

“You won’t let?” Darken Rahl shook his head. “None of that will matter, if you do not agree to my request.”

“Even if I do agree, you have nothing left to control… only the Mord–Sith.”

“And that is where I will offer you a compromise, Cara.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“You will be given authority over all the Mord–Sith.”

“What?” Triana barked, pushing off of the wall, and turning to face him. “You promised me we would be free!”

“Shut up, Triana.”

“It does not work that way you fool.”

“But what if it can?”

“Why? Why me? Berdine was here, why not her?”

“If I have you Cara, then I have the Mother Confessor. Six is going about it all wrong, you see. Kahlan Amnell will sacrifice herself for the good of all mankind. But she will not sacrifice you.”

“You don’t know her.”

“I beg to differ, if I have you? She will do anything I ask.”

Cara heard the footsteps, and her eyes moved, to track the man who walked into the room. He was tall, but slight, thin, with his dark hair and pale skin, which seemed to have a sick pallor to it, against the faint washed out color of this robes.

“About time. Were you hiding, Neville?”

“There are dead bodies throughout the temple. I thought it best that I stayed out of sight, until someone calmed this one down.” He said in an even and low voice.

Slowly he moved to stand before Cara, with his dark eyes moving over her.

“Who’s the scrawny Wizard?” Cara asked.

“This is Neville. He has agreed to share control of his self with me. I will soon be flesh again. In his flesh to be exact.”

“This?” Cara chuckled. “Darken Rahl I am shocked. You always prided yourself on your physical appearance and strength. This man looks as though a strong gust of wind could knock him to the ground.”

“Yes well, we will be working on that later.”

The little Wizard sneered. “Who do you think you are? Speaking to me that way?”

“I wasn’t actually speaking to you at all.” Cara rolled her eyes.

The smile left his face. “You should learn to hold your tongue around your betters.” His voice was almost a whisper, trying to possess a threat in its tone. Which it did not. While he seemed to have magic, it was muted by the dented Rada’Han about his neck. “I’ll show you who is the weak one here.” Lifting his hands, a bolt of magic, a thick concussion of air slammed into Cara with such force that it snapped the chain links above her head, and sent her flying across the room. Panting in pain, and from losing all the air from her lungs as she slammed into the far tone wall, her eyes narrowed in on his thin body. A body she was sure that she could break physically, but with the magic he wielded now there seemed nothing she could do, and so a low growl came from her lips. If she had taken his magic, or even deflected it Cara knew she would be weakened to the point where even Triana could hurt her significantly. Suffering the pain of the blow was far more advantageous at this point, and she hoped it also made him wonder, and doubt her abilities.

Her eyes hardened as she watched the boyish smile come over his lips. She knew that smile. It sent shivers through her muscles, twitching in their remembering, in understanding that smile and in the past all that it entailed. It was a smile she knew well, had seen on the faces of others and had worn herself at times. The smile that blossomed at the beginning, when the prospect of breaking and bleeding another was just on the horizon.

“Neville and Triana will relax you, Cara. So that you will see that you have no choice, that there is no true considering to be done. You will follow me, you will obey me, you will assist in making me live again, and when you do? Your reward will be two fold. I will let you live, and I will grant you one wish.” Darken Rahl looked down at her, his face softening.

“Give my regards to your master, the Keeper.” Cara snapped at him

“Have it your way. Be careful Neville, her stamina isn’t what it used to be. Do not kill her.” Darken Rahl’s image flashed in the flames, and was gone.

“I wonder if this one screams or cries.” Neville mused, before pulling back his leg and kicking her. Cara’s body slid further across the room and with a groan she rested her head on the floor.

* * * * *

“Are you alright Berdine?”

“Why would you ask? Of course I am alright.” Berdine replied, and she sat up straighter as they road quickly across the slightly inclining earth. Kahlan, sitting behind her, had noticed that as Nick’s powerful legs covered the distances, as the uneven ground caused them to shift jarringly, Berdine’s body would shudder, or her face would show flashes of pain. Kahlan tapped her hand to Nick’s side, and he slowed slightly.

“You’re wincing, and Raina keeps looking over here.” Kahlan stressed.

“That’s to make sure you keep your hands to yourself.”

Kahlan laughed. “Oh?”

“Mmhm. She knows how you royalty are, with your wandering hands.” Berdine winked as she looked over to Raina who seemed to sit looking bored behind Nicci as they rode alongside them.

“Your ribs are broken.”

“A few, but so are Riana’s. We are fine, Mother Confessor. We have been through worse.”

“I am sorry. She… she was really concerned.”

“If she was, she would have stayed away.” Berdine said in a hard voice.

“You can’t mean that.”

Raina made a huffing noise. “No good can come of her being there. He wants her for something and that is never good. Plus, he has a wizard with him.”

“A Wizard?” Nicci asked.

“Yes, he is wearing the Rada’Han. It is old though.”

“They can last centuries.” Nicci said. “Out of curiosity, do you know his name?”

“Neville Ranson. He likes to,”

“Say his name. Yes I remember.”

Kahlan saw the smirk of recognition move over Nicci’s face. “You know him then?”

“I do. I knew him when he was a small crying boy brought to the Palace of the Prophets for teaching. And I remember him growing up in to a fairly powerful Wizard, and how he weakly joined the service of the Keeper.”

“He did seem a bit snivelly.” Berdine added.

“I am sorry.” Nicci said gently.

“Whatever for?” Raina asked.

“I know… Neville.”

“Pff. Please. We are Mord–Sith.” Raina laughed. “We have had far worse from much less.”

“Do you think… Cara?” Kahlan asked hesitantly.

“I am sure that Triana is keeping her company. Knowing Darken Rahl, he is letting Triana play with Cara as if she were the mouse to her cat. And knowing Cara.”

“She is using it to her full advantage.”

Kahlan shuddered, because she knew, she remembered how there were times when Cara lost herself in the rhythm of a whip, and how it had made her body scream, not with torment but with pleasure. “She… is with Triana?”

“Yes, Mother Confessor.”

“Oh.” She looked down at the ground as it passed, as the horses continued to move them further, closer.

“She loves you.” Berdine said firmly.

“But she loved Triana first.”

“Are you certain? Do you know that what Cara felt for Triana was in fact love? Do you know if it differed from the love she feels for you?”

“Do you think that Cara truly loves me as she did before? That she doesn’t think that I betrayed her?” Kahlan asked, her voice sounding hesitant and weak for a moment.

“Betray.” Berdine scoffed. “No, Kahlan. You could never betray Cara. Even if she stormed away from you with her pride a little bruised, she would still love you, perhaps even more. No. She used to brag to me that she would go to Triana, to allow her to whip her in a frenzy, because it felt like nothing. So much empty nothing that she would just sleep the hours away.”

Kahlan sighed, because as dark as that sounding, it rang with the truth. Only her mate would willingly subject her body to torment to merely get rest.

“You cannot be serious.” Nicci spoke.

“She is.” Raina added.

“I do not understand you people.” Nicci sighed.

“We are not people. We are Mord–Sith.” Berdine said, and a warm laugh came from Kahlan’s mouth.

* * * * *

With a whisper the sword was pulled from behind Kahlan’s back.

“Raina said there are about twelve Mord–Sith, all banelings.” Kahlan said to her as they approached the massive doors, and with her free hand she pushed it open.

Even though night had begun to descend, as the door opened, light flooded out; highlighting the dirt and stone steps they were standing on. “From the blood here I am thinking there are considerably less.” Kahlan nodded to her. There were pools of dried blood on the floor as they moved through the large main doors into the temple. “Are these places always so welcoming?”

Kahlan’s eyes were moving through the bright room. “Normally the blood is kept in the training rooms.”

“This place has magic. Do you feel it?” Nicci asked.

“I do now. I never did before. I suppose that has to do with the small amount of myself being Mord–Sith.”

The flames of the fire on the other end of the entrance hall shot up twenty feet in a big demonstration and restlessness. Kahlan sighed beside her.

“You are correct. The magic you feel is additional strength that is given to Mord–Sith here. It allows for them to heal faster, as well as deal with higher levels of pain. And as you are Mord–Sith, even the smallest part of you, well now you can feel it as well. And you are welcome.” Darken Rahl’s image spoke, and Nicci crossed her arms. Both she and Kahlan had expected him to appear.

“For?” Kahlan asked.

“Well it is I who charged this building, when I was a young boy. I wanted my Mord–Sith to be levels above those of my father. In the event of an uprising, or an attack. My girls were always the most lethal. As you well know.” He grinned.

“They aren’t yours. Where is Cara?”

“Swinging upstairs. She is… alive. I was getting worried, Nicci you were taking far too long.”

“Yes well, things happen.”

Kahlan looked at her sharply, and Nicci was almost certain she heard her teeth grinding.

“You don’t need your sword, Mother Confessor. Cara unceremoniously dispatched all of my Mord–Sith back to the Keeper. They are here, with me, suffering for their failure. Burning and twisting. I wish you could come and visit. To hear the symphony of their screams.”

“As lovely as that sounds, I like it here, thank you.” Kahlan said, and Nicci watched as she did sheath her sword. She found it interesting that this woman, for all her curiosity had moments where she in fact believed someone’s word. Perhaps in time she would learn the error of such blind acceptance. People lied. The Mother Confessor should know that.

“Time is running short, Mother Confessor.”

“How could it? You are dust; dead and gone. In the Underworld there is no time, there only is.”

“All true. The Keeper is becoming suspicious.”

“The Keeper knows all. Do not think me stupid and easily manipulated.” Kahlan snapped.

“Still he knows but he does not know. When prophesy refers to the Keeper there are things kept from his knowing. Such as how you, Richard, and the merry band of travelers were able to thwart him and close the rift between the Underworld and the land of the living. If the Keeper knew all, he would have not let that come to pass. The reality that has been set in motion, Six and the prophecy? If she succeeds there will be no Underworld, just as there will cease to be life there. Life in the New World and the Old, will be snuffed out, forever changed as magic is removed from existence. So yes, Mother Confessor, time is running out.” He crossed his ghostly arms. “You were to play a very important role in all this, perhaps you still are. You need to convince Cara to give me the breath of life.”

Nicci was shocked at Darken Rahl’s candor.

“Why her?”

“She has something other Mord–Sith do not.”

“The bond of the Lord Rahl.”

“Yes.”

“And you will get it back, if she is to…”

“Yes.”

“Why would you expect her to do that, or me, or even Nicci, to help you?”

“Without me, without this… Six will win. She will have you.”

“Not likely.”

“Cara will die. Now now, don’t make that face. I will not kill her. The bond will kill her; taking all of it inside of herself? She will die because of it. You remember the headaches you suffered? They were nothing compared to what Cara is suffering now with the power of Lord Rahl inside of her. It is destroying her from the inside out. Cara will not survive it. She must give up the power, it must be returned to one with Rahl blood, and the only other living soul in all of creation who can be Lord Rahl will not. He will still renounce his place, and no one will be protected.”

“Richard.”

“Do you think you can find my brother and make him see that becoming Lord Rahl is the only chance for survival? All before Cara dies?”

Nicci actually seemed to feel the confused pain coming off of Kahlan as she closed her eyes.

“You can save her; all you have to do is convince her to give me what I want. This shouldn’t be a difficult decision for you Mother Confessor.” Darken Rahl smiled.

* * * * *

Her head lay in her lap, a blanket of her dark hair falling over her thighs. Kahlan’s eyes were mostly closed, and carefully Cara ran her finger tip over the lines and planes of her face, absently counting the delicate freckles that lay over her forehead and cheeks, ensuring she did not forget the one or two on her nose, the one faintly there above her top lip. Cara leaned down, kissing that one in particular. It was one of her favorites.

The ground beneath her was soft, warm, and the air smelt of the promise of spring. Her lips moved from the freckle, slightly and pressed to lips that seemed to come alive when touched.

Cara felt her hand on the back of her head, pressing her closer, her lips harder, as her mouth became wet and dry simultaneously, as her body seemed to shiver with the touch of Kahlan’s lips. It was as if it had been too long since she knew this softness, and as she pulled away slightly, as she licked her lips she could taste the essence of Kahlan. She wanted to tell her that she loved how she tasted, how her kisses were like drinking from a fresh water spring. That they rejuvenated her, when she didn’t even realize she was thirsty. But words were useless, when she could taste her again, when she could feel the warm moving press of those lips. Kissing her again, she could feel a hint of urgency in them, in the moment that a tongue brushed along her bottom lip, and when Cara began to release a soft moan, her lips parting more, Kahlan claimed her mouth. The explosion of color behind her closed eyes stole her breathe.

Hands moved over her back, guiding her, as her eyes, still closed danced behind her lids. Still feeling the powerful kiss, Cara lay back, and felt the softness of hair caressing her cheeks, and then the perfection that was the weight of Kahlan’s body as it rested on top of her. It was warm, and supple. It was naked, as was she, and it moved against her. Skin touching skin, as the kiss deepened more, as Cara felt her entire body react to the hands moving over her skin, as the delicate pressure of Kahlan’s wet center teased along the length of her thigh.

Cara’s body shuddered with desire, and her back arched with pain.

She knew her mind was partitioned. She knew that as the Agiel slammed into her flesh, as her skin cracked open and her blood poured, as her body screamed with the pain, in her mind her body screamed with pleasure and desire.

The sensation of Kahlan moving wantonly against her, riding her thigh, painting her skin with the slick excitement burned through Cara’s mind; the lucid dreaming that made what was happening to her body faint, distant.

Until the Agiel pulled away, and when it was replaced to her stomach its intent was very different.

The pain had changed. The dream slipped away, Kahlan slipped away. The pain of the Agiel moving down her stomach, moving to rest just above her sex was thick with the darker pain that was laced with pleasure. Her hips bucked involuntarily, and she knew through the din of her own beating heart that they did, and she wished that they hadn’t. She wanted to retreat, to return to the vision of Kahlan. That was where she wanted to stay. Let them do what they will to her body, but she wanted her mind to remain as it was, she wanted to dive back into that place. The Agiel moved down her inner thigh, and it felt so familiar. It felt almost as it had when Kahlan had done that to her, the first time. Forcing her mind to run, to leave this place was no use, as the memory of that touch, coupled with the pressure moving back up her sensitive skin caused a low and needy moan to burst from Cara’s lips.

“I knew it! You can deny it all you want, you can claim that you love that woman, but I know. I am the only one who can bring you to the edge.” Triana’s passion filled voice hissed against Cara’s skin.

“Actually. I know that moan. That moan is mine.” Kahlan’s voice hissed.

Cara’s eyes opened wide, not believing her ears. And there she was, standing inside the room, her eyes hard, her lips set in a thin line.

Cara blinked. Was she dreaming again?

“You?” Triana turned and gasped.

Kahlan backhanded her across the room.

“That is for your arrogance.”

Cara watched as Kahlan walked quickly to Triana who was on the floor, looking up with her eyes gone wide with shock. She did not even move to protect herself as Kahlan kicked her ruthlessly in the face.

“That is for Raina.”

Cara licked her cracked lips, as Kahlan pulled the dagger from her boot, and she simply reached forward, and the blade slashed deeply through Triana’s cheek, “That is for Berdine.”

With her empty hand, Kahlan lifted her by the throat. As Kahlan lifted her, as she stood, and then as her feet tried to reach the ground but merely scratched on the stone surface, Cara could feel the crackling of Kahlan’s power.

“And this? This is for Cara.”

She released the power of the Confessor into her, Cara could feel it, the implosion of power time and space, it touched her skin like a glorious recollection, and Triana screamed in torment. She began thrashing helplessly in agony, while Kahlan held her feet off the ground, her fingers still digging into her the throat, her face frozen watching her die.

* * * * *

Nicci looked up the large staircase as the violent sound of screams seemed to echo and shake the entire fortress. Her eyes moved back to the green flames, and Darken Rahl, who stood with a grin.

“It appears that the Mother Confessor found Cara. And Triana.” He laughed softly.

“I am bored with all of this. They are here, just as you wanted. Though why here?” She shook her head. “You can appear anywhere, why did you need them to come here all the way to the north.”

“The ambiance?”

“If that were the case I would have thought you would have preferred to make a grand entrance in a massive fireplace in the People’s Palace.”

“Nicci, I like how you think. And in fact I did consider it. To appear when they were in the throes of passion. Or an argument. I prefer both for different reasons. But no.” His wisp of a body paced across the floor. “This seemed as good a place as any. Here I have Mord–Sith.”

“Had. I do not think there are anymore half living banelings running around.”

“I had Mord–Sith here, and they were tending to my very special… guest?”

“So your shell is still alive?” She asked. She had hoped that when Cara had moved through this temple slaughtering Mord–Sith that she had managed to do the same to Neville Ranson. Apparently he was still adept at hiding.

“He is. He is eaves dropping right now in fact. Come out from hiding my boy, and say hello to the one who will deliver you to greatness.”

“You were wrong Darken Rahl.” Neville said as a small door underneath the stairs opened, and Neville stepped out, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. In response she sighed. He looked as he had when she had seen him last at the Palace of the Prophets, even his thick robes and Rada’Han were the same. He pinched the short beard on his chin as he glared at her. “Sister Nicci is not strong enough to perform the spell. If she was not even strong enough to sense me here.”

“I thought I felt a gnat.” Her eyes narrowed. “You are wearing a Rada’Han, and your power is still minuscule. Why would I bother to sense you? You are as troublesome to me as a light breeze from the back end of a mule.”

“I. that.” Neville stumbled over his own thoughts.

“Neville Ranson. If I remember correctly the last time I saw you was when you were weeping like a newborn, faced with the choice of giving your soul and devotion to the Keeper or being used as fodder by those who were willing to commit themselves.”

He stood straighter, his dark eyes flashing at her. “People change.”

“People do. You still seem to me a small bumbling child. Have you been keeping out of trouble? Following the orders of the undead women who marched through this temple?”

“You should talk. Darken Rahl tells me that you have been nipping at the coattails of the Mother Confessor.” Neville was snapping back at her, but keeping his distance. As if leaving four feet between them would make any difference. If Nicci sneezed he would be nothing more than a pile of viscera and a coating of blood against the back wall.

“Better her than some little green flamed specter.”

“I am right here, and can hear you.” Darken Rahl grumbled.

“Your attempts at supremacy? Who is better? It does not concern me. Run along Neville, the grownups are speaking.”

“You cannot treat me this way Sister Nicci.”

“Just Nicci now.” She said sharply, as she shot a bolt of white lightening from the tips of her fingers at his heels.

“Hey!” He jumped and then scuttled from the room, like a fleeing rat.

“And here I thought I was taking the body of a masterful wielder of magic.” Darken Rahl’s spirit sighed.

Nicci turned back to him and asked. “Honestly?”

“No. Of course not. Only a sniveling pawn would come all this way hoping to best me somehow. He is a shell and his magic is the foundation for my own. Which will be amplified when I return to the People’s Palace. Plus, well, if we are sharing our secrets, Nicci.” Darken Rahl leaned forward, his smile seeming to glow with mischief. “Neville has knowledge. He studied the spells of the Palace of the Prophets for generations. I will use that knowledge, couple it with my own.”

Understanding filled Nicci, and her head turned slightly, regarding the ghost who had been annoying her for months. It was making so much more sense now. “Convenience is not always the best option.”

“When you are without a body, convenience is everything. I had here, convenience. Now I do not, as all my Mord–Sith are returned to the Underworld. And it has not gone unnoticed by the Keeper. He looks forward to the day you come home, Nicci.”

“As do I. But that will be a long time in coming.”

“Really?” He crossed his arms.

“What is it you want?” Nicci asked.

“Only you can put my soul into the body of that sniveling whelp. Only Cara can grant me the breath of life I need, enriched with her additional power, so that when I awake, I will be strong, I will have all of my magic returned to me.”

“And the Mother Confessor?”

“Leverage, my dear. Whoever controls the Confessor, controls the world.”

“I am feeling less and less inclined to assist you.”

“You know what will happen to the world, this world, if Six gains power.”

Nicci snorted, “Six will die. Soon. She is of no consequence.”

“And yet you are here.”

“I am.”

“Is it the Order then? Is that what has moved you to help me?”

“While my youth was shrouded in naivety, blind faith and ignorance, I know now that the way of the Imperial Order is not the way to benefit mankind.” She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “You have nothing to bargain with. I do not see the use or the need to help you.”

“Cara does.”

“Cara. Will Cara somehow manage to sway me?” He was silent, blissfully silent for a moment. “What is it you think you have to offer her that will make her do what you wish?”

“When I am flesh again, when my powers have been restored to me, I can provide Cara with the ability and the wherewithal to.” He ran his finger over his bottom lip slowly, “to create life.”

Nicci blinked. “Life?”

He nodded. “The one thing she wants is to ensure that Kahlan Amnell lives. That she not be the last Confessor. I have the knowledge to make it so.”

“As do about a million other men who live in the New World.” Nicci argued, but her mind was reeling with the possibility of what in fact this would mean. If he was telling the truth.

“Not like this.” He pressed his hands together. “She will chose life, and when she does the wheels of prophecy will turn forward, and it will nearly guarantee the outcome. You see. That is what will urge your hand to assist, Nicci. You want the world to be as it is, not as it could be if we do nothing.”

“Everything that you think is leverage? You are building the palace of your dreams using the thinnest of matchsticks. And it will tumble at the first hint of wind.”

“Be that as it may, I have faith in prophesy and I have faith in love.”

“Love?” Nicci laughed.

“Love, while it may not be something you nor I are capable of, it flavors the blood of those two, and because of that they will do as destiny mandates.”

* * * * *

“You know… as much as I love seeing you naked and chained… I would prefer it if we kept this sort of thing between us.” Kahlan said as she stepped closer to Cara. Once Triana stopped screaming, and once she had stabbed her in the heart for good measure before tossing her out of the room, she had moved quickly to Cara.

Her eyes moved over her, the tautness of her arms held over her head, the way her body seemed to glisten in the light from the flames of the torches and fires burning in the room. It was unbearably hot, but the heat didn’t truly reach Kahlan. Her heart felt cold, seeing Cara like this. Seeing what they had done to her. In the amber glow of the flames, the blood, some dry some fresh which moved down her skin, and in the quiet Kahlan could hear the faint drip as drops of it landed on the floor beneath her. Her body was more damaged than she had ever seen it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Kahlan sighed, as her hand moved to cup Cara’s cheek gently. “You are the one chained and bleeding and you ask how I am?”

“Yes.” Cara replied, leaning into Kahlan’s palm.

“Cara.”

“I wanted to come… back…to you… to kill him…but… I.” Cara’s eyes blinked, filling not with tears but with the thickness of shame.

“I know.”

“There were things I should have said, I should have done.” Cara stressed.

Kahlan set her forehead to Cara’s, and her voice was very soft as she spoke. “He didn’t hurt me, Cara. Not like that. Not as much as they had hoped. Yes… the look on your face? When you came into the tent… and then… when you… left? That hurt more than anything they could have done to me, and that look will haunt me.”

“I… shouldn’t’ have run.”

* * * * *

Her hand felt cold as it rested on her fevered cheek, to cup her face. She willed her eyes to open, forced them beyond her exhaustion and the swollen itching they felt to look at her. To see Kahlan and to know that this was not just one of the dreams she had been slipping into.

She could see that she was there, see the depth and love in her rich blue eyes. Kahlan whispered. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“Then why? Why did you run?”

“I am sorry.” She sighed, feeling the weight of it again in her chest, why she did run, because of the instant she where she believed what she saw, in the moment when she felt that noxious emotion that was doubt.

“No, Cara. Don’t.” Kahlan sighed, and her hands left Cara’s face, and moved up her arms. To the shackles at her wrists.

“I have to. I am. I am sorry that I let it, that I let doubt.”

As the shackles released her, she fell against Kahlan, fell onto her strength, and felt her body sigh. “You know I love you, only you. Why do you allow doubt to rise up?”

“Doubt consumes. It does not rise.”

“Cara. How can I make you see?” Strong arms moved around her back, holding her.

“You can’t, Kahlan. This is not something you can do, nor control. I am what I am. I am no more and no less than what I am.”

Their foreheads pressed together. “Cara.” Kahlan whispered.

“If you can love me, knowing and accepting what I am? Then I am thrilled. If you cannot? I understand.”

“You are everything I want, need, and love. Of course I accept you. All of you. The shadows and the light.”

“And doubt?” Cara blinked.

“It kills me to think of you consumed by it, having it eat away at you, clouding your thoughts and making you feel pain. I won’t deny any of that. I wish you could hold onto and cherish the love we have, and that it would keep all of that doubt at bay.”

“Perhaps with time? In time, and with experiencing love… the doubt will lessen, for both of us.”

Kahlan smiled softly. “You are so very smart.”

“Not very. I just know you. I know you worry too.”

Kahlan brushed their lips together once, twice, before she said gently. “I do worry. And I do love you.” She vowed, before kissing her again, softly, tenderly.

Part 25

Kahlan held her tightly, as if Cara herself were the dream. Kahlan’s hands moved over her bleeding and welt covered back, and it felt to her like the most enriching balm on her skin. The ache seemed to leave her muscles and bones, and she pressed her face into Kahlan’s neck and she breathed in deeply. Her nostrils flared with the soft and reassuring scent of Kahlan, the scent that flourished the realization in her mind; the scent of Kahlan’s skin made Cara think of home. That warm musk, rich and intoxicating created inside of her the feelings of safety, warmth, contentment. All feelings, emotions, that she had never acknowledged before. But she did now. Breathing in she seemed to become dizzy from the nuances her senses detected, and how very comforting they were. Her skin, her scent, her embrace. All of it, all of Kahlan, made Cara want to weep suddenly, weep with love and the overwhelming rush of emotions. Desperately she pressed her lips to her throat, still inhaling. Kahlan arched against her, her arms impossibly tightened more. With a moan Cara’s eye lids flittered open. And her vision focused on the fire behind them, and she could see in the flames the faintest shadow of eyes. She pressed her lips again to Kahlan’s skin, moving them up to her ear.

“He is watching us.”

The fingers on her back twitched.

“And he is impatient.”

“I don’t care.” Kahlan said, her lips finding the side of Cara’s head.

“Kahlan.” Her own hands pressed on either side of the sword at her back. “Kahlan.” She whimpered, feeling the deep rumbling beginning inside of her skull. The pain blossomed, and Cara felt her muscles begin to convulse, as if she were still swinging from the chains, as if she had no control. Her entire body became desecrated with the pain, and she could smell and taste blood. Knowing it flowed from her nose, and she could feel it weakly slipping from her ears.

“Cara!” Kahlan exclaimed, but Cara could not respond. She could do nothing but feel her body tear and tremble and shatter, consumed by flames of pain the likes of which she had never imagined nor experienced. As she convulsed her vision became a tunnel of bleeding shadow, her throat closed and no air could slip into her chest. Her limbs were no longer her own.

As swiftly as it had sparked from somewhere in the center of her being, it snuffed out. Her head felt as if it had been cracked open like an egg, and she was aware of Kahlan’s fingers in her mouth. Keeping her from swallowing her tongue.

Her vision returned, and she looked deeply into Kahlan’s tear filled eyes. Looking at her, looking into her she was sure that for an instant she was able to see the Mother Confessor’s soul. Could see that it was vast and full of so much love and compassion; wisdom and storms of concern. She felt so very tired, and blinked up at Kahlan, whose lips released a noise that Cara did not like the sound of, the sound of breaking terror.

“I…love you.” Cara croaked the moment Kahlan’s fingers moved to cup her cheek.

“Oh…you… I love you.” Kahlan replied, brushing hair from her face.

“He is not lying. I will die… and… I” Cara swallowed thickly. “I am not ready to die.”

“Zedd is not far from here. I am sure we can get you to him in time.” Kahlan said in a rush.

“No. Kahlan. No. There is no time. I will do what he wants.”

“But why?”

Cara shifted slightly, realizing that she was laying across Kahlan’s lap and they were on the floor. She blinked, because she had lost time in the stupor of pain, she had not realized they had moved from where they had been standing. Nor how much time had passed. She reached for Kahlan, and pulled her into a fierce hug, to feel her close, but also to whisper softly into her ear. “I don’t trust him. If I don’t do this, if I fight and try to stay alive until Richard can take the power from me… Kahlan… I know Darken Rahl; he will not rest until he is flesh again. He will not sit idly by.”

“He cannot hurt me.”

“It’s not the hurting that concerns me. He will kill you to make me bend to his will.”

“He can try.”

“He will. Kahlan. I can’t live in a world without you.” Cara said softly, her face moving into the long shadow of her hair.

Kahlan sighed into her. “You won’t have to. I swear to you, you won’t have to. But Cara.”

Growling softly she pushed herself from the comforting embrace, knowing, feeling that Kahlan was going to try to talk her out of doing this. And Cara was not having any of it. She was implicitly clear, she knew it as well as she knew the sun would rise in the morning that if she did not do this tonight, if she did not give him what he wanted then all would be lost. Not just because of the pain, but everything. She was not completely sure why she felt this way, but the knowledge burned its way from her heart to her hand as she angrily grabbed Kahlan’s wrist.

She turned her hand, palm up and scratched her thumbnail across the white scar laying there. “Kahlan Amnell, we are one. Joined. That was not something I undertook lightly. I swore then, that my heart is yours. And it is. For the rest of my life, and throughout my eternity spent in the Underworld. My heart, it is yours. My soul is joined with yours. You will live. You will survive. By the Spirits I will do everything I can to see to that. If you live, I live. Do you understand?”

Kahlan blinked.

“What he wants. It will be done. And you will need to swear your allegiance to him.”

Kahlan looked at her with stricken eyes. “To keep you alive?”

“No. To keep YOU alive.”

Slowly Kahlan nodded, her mouth moved to say something, but instead both of them turned their heads as the door was kicked open.

* * * * *

Nicci was dumbfounded, and knew her expression showed it. The words he had just spoken sent her mind spinning. They reminded her that she had been a complete fool. She had believed what he said; she had wanted to believe him. And as her eyes narrowed, as she took a step towards his shadowy form she wondered if this was a trick. Could it all be a trick, him just telling her what he thought would motivate her more. “So you are standing there, telling me that the prophecy also stated that”–

“Nicci, I believe we are needed up in the training room, at the very top right of the stairs.” He interrupted, and she spun, looking up the stairs as she felt the vibration of magic. She should not be able to feel that suddenly. Unless. “It seems that Neville has, begun the proceedings without us.” Darken Rahl concluded.

Her eyes went wide. “You are there as well I take it.”

“Of course, I am a specter, I can be everywhere at once. And oh, you should have seen it, there were touching moments. And by touching I mean emotionally, and literally. Who knew the Mother Confessor had such grabby hands.”

His voice followed her as she turned and marched towards the stairs. When she reached them she began to run, moving swiftly, because she would feel a charge in the air, and it was more than Cara or Kahlan’s magic.

“You had better hurry!” Darken Rahl’s voice teased from below.

* * * * *

“You would forsake everything you know, everything you believe for that? For your sworn enemy, a Mord–Sith, and a lowly one at that?” Neville sneered, the sword in his hand pressing harder against Kahlan’s shoulder. It was an annoyance, nothing more.

She had immediately stood between the birdlike Wizard and Cara, who she could almost feel was growling and pacing behind her. It was as though Cara was oblivious to the fact that she was naked, she merely wanted to destroy. Kahlan felt the same desire. Neville pressed harder, urging her to walk backwards, and while she could bat the sword away, she flashed her eyes to Cara, who was watching her intently. She looked at her, really looked at Cara, hoping that in the glance she was conveying to her that there was nothing to worry about. They both knew how this would end. How it would always end.

“I would.” Kahlan said, lifted her eyebrow, and Cara nodded slightly, her shoulders relaxing, a faux movement, as they both knew her body was coiled and ready to strike, as was Kahlan’s.

“Then you deserve everything that will befall you.” His lips sneered.

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.”

“She will die. And with her death so goes the bond, and then my Mistress will be free.”

“Tisk. Sounds to me like someone has been having special dreams.” Cara grumbled, as she stretched her arms over her head.

“Visions of the perfect world. The true world. The world as it should be.”

“Neville, every time someone comes along with some new plan for ruling the world you are attracted to it like a bird with a shiny object.” Nicci sighed as she stepped through the open door.

Kahlan noticed that his shoulders jerk and felt the tip of the sword against her shoulder dip slightly. His right eye twitched. She wondered for a moment exactly how the Sisters of the Light, or Dark for that matter, trained the Wizards they kept in the Palace of the Prophets. Because Neville shuddered and gave all the signs of someone who had endured some significant abuse at Nicci’s hand. That or something very similar to Mord–Sith training. Though, as Kahlan thought of that she lifted her chin defiantly. A Mord–Sith would never have twitched at the sound of her Mistress’ name. His eyes glared at the blonde with forced defiance.

“I am going to kill you, and I will take pleasure in it. I am so tired of you, Nicci. I was tired of growing up and being teased by you then, and I am tired of your attitude now.”

Nicci rolled her eyes. “I have never teased anyone.”

“Oh no? Look in a mirror.” Neville argued.

“Can I just kill him now?” Cara asked.

He swung the sword to Cara, and pushed it towards her throat. Its sharp blade cut her skin, but she made no outward sign of it. She did not even blink.

“Even if you kill Cara, Kahlan will destroy you before you can do a thing. Besides that, do you truly think you will gain any favor from Six?”

“Oh Six will do whatever I ask, and will grant me anything.” His hand reached up and he pulled the old Rada’Han from around his throat. It released a pathetic clang as it hit the floor.

“This one? So smart. So cunning.” Cara’s eyes flicked to the ceiling.

The flames in the fire rose. “I know.” Darken said, with a very bored tone. “Neville do please stop this childish behavior. It is time for us to kill you so I can take over your body.”

“Honesty.” Nicci smirked at the ghost.

“But of course.”

“I played along but I will not merely be your pawn, Darken Rahl. You promise me nothing but lies and death. You cannot just expect me to give you my Han and my body. I will have all that I deserve.”

“When you say it like that it sounds sort of naughty.” Darken Rahl flashed him a smile.

Kahlan understood, he was teasing him, distracting him, because Nicci was moving slowly to one side of Neville. She moved her eyes back to the sword’s point in the center of Cara’s throat. This had gone on long enough. She would end it.

* * * * *

Kahlan moved closer to Neville, and he turned and slammed his hand against her chest at the same time he released a torrent of magic, both Subtractive and Addictive into her.

It happened instantly, and there was nothing Cara could do to prevent it.

The brightness of the deep blue magic was offset by the rich black shadow of the spell he forced into her. Kahlan staggered back a few steps as Nicci watched helplessly as the magic wound itself around her chest and then all of her limbs. Her eyes flashed the light blue, the shade of lightening, and her mouth worked without sound at the shock and discomfort. As she lost her balance the lightening around her body faded and Nicci caught her.

“YOU!” Cara knocked the sword from his hand sending it clattering on the ground, and reached for him. Her fingers dug into the material of his robes. The pain in her limbs faded away, not that it would mattered, she would reach deep inside and find the strength to dismember him with her bare hands fifty times over. The fire of rage and contempt were enough fuel. She could feel them burning in her eyes.

“Cara! Wait! He cast a spell.” Nicci warned. Cara shoved him away from her, turning to watch Nicci move her hand over Kahlan’s chest.

Neville began to laugh. “Not any spell. A maternity spell.”

“How in the world do you know how to cast that?” Nicci asked in disbelief.

“I spent a lot of time down in the vaults of the Palace of the Prophets, studying like a good wizard.” He sneered.

“Are you alright?” Cara asked, as she wrapped her arm around Kahlan’s waist, and pulled her from Nicci. The blonde didn’t seem to mind. Kahlan looked alright, but she was breathing heavily as her eyes narrowed in on Neville with loathing.

“Why does everything lately have to do with being pregnant?” She panted.

“It’s a theme. You are of that age.” Darken Rahl said from inside the hearth behind them.

“Not funny.” Kahlan grumbled.

“Are you okay?” Cara stressed.

Kahlan sighed, and stood a little straighter, and huffed, “Of course I am.”

“Ha! You cannot kill me now, if you kill me your precious Mother Confessor will die. So you can go on haunting someone else Darken Rahl.”

“You should have known, Neville isn’t the most reliable henchman.” Nicci said glaring at the ghost in the flames, who had a look of bemused joy and the curve of a smile at the edge of his lips.

“Oh…no…Neville has gone rogue.” Darken said evenly with no emotion. The sarcasm dripped from his words and there was a twinkle in his ghostly eyes. “I of course never saw this coming. I am so shocked. So betrayed. Whatever will I do now?”

Nicci looked at him with her eye brow raised. “You do know how ridiculous you sound?”

“As ridiculous as Neville is thinking he is suddenly some mastermind. Yes.”

“I am free of you now Darken Rahl!”

Kahlan’s lips pressed to her cheek as she breathed the two words, only for Cara to hear. She nodded, and Kahlan stood on her own.

“You were never not free you idiot. I am not corporeal.” Darken Rahl flashed brighter, “So Cara. Now you have Neville tied to your beloved Confessor. And me. Just a ghost… helpless… Whatever will you do? Will you bend to Neville’s will? Or will you.”

Cara reached down, lifted the discarded sword from the ground and slammed it through Neville’s chest.

“Well that took little to no pleading.” Darken Rahl chuckled.

Neville gasped, looking at her with wide eyes as he dropped to his knees, his hands reaching to touch the sword protruding from his chest. “How could you? You will kill her!”

“I can bring her back to life, you idiot.” Cara snapped, and pulled the sword from his chest, before turning around.

Kahlan was on her knees as well, but her lips held a strong and radiant smile. “Dying, it never seems frightening when you are here, beside me.”

“Well.” Cara said, kneeling beside her, putting her arm around her back, and easing her to the stone ground. “Let’s keep it that way? No dying unless I am beside you?”

“I could… agree to that… Kiss me?” Kahlan asked, her voice weakening.

“Always.” Cara said softly, and just for one moment, as Kahlan closed her eyes, the fear pierced Cara’s heart as well, that fear of living in a world without Kahlan. The fear of what if; what if she could not bring her back, what if something were to go wrong.

“I love you.” Kahlan said, just as Cara’s lips pressed down.

Cara couldn’t say it back, but allowed the feeling of complete love to be conveyed in their kiss. She could feel it, as behind her Neville sputtered, at the same instant the magic snapped inside of Kahlan, and with their lips pressed desperately together she felt Kahlan’s body sag in her arms.

Felt it as her soul sighed, felt it as her own heart stopped beating for a moment.

The moment she felt Kahlan die.

An explosion of wind swirled around them with such strength that Kahlan’s hair moved, shimmered danced, before it rested again. Cara blinked in the semi darkness, the only light coming from the full moon outside, and the hundreds of small torches in the halls beyond the door.

“I won’t leave you.” She whispered softly, running her fingers over Kahlan’s cheek, noticing with a grimace that her fingers were coated in blood.

A hand set on her shoulder, and Cara looked to see Nicci standing there, her eyes expressionless.

“Cara.” Nicci said her voice gently, more gently than she had ever heard the woman say it before. “If you do not bring her back? If you allow her to remain in the Underworld, if we leave Rahl there as well, then perhaps the war will be easily won. With Kahlan dead Darken Rahl will have no hold over you, and he will not be made flesh.”

“I have considered that.” Cara said softly, running her fingers over Kahlan’s still forehead, and then across her silken hair.

“Without a Confessor, Six will never gain the foothold of power to disrupt magic. Will never have the tool she needs to conquer the New World, and all the worlds beyond the oceans.” Nicci’s voice was even, calm. Cara had expected nothing less from her. The silence of the stone room was heavy as it weighed down on her.

“All of this went through my mind, when I knew what he wanted, and the lengths he would go to see his dreams brought to fruition. Don’t think I have not considered this.” Cara looked at her seriously. “It would be… the easy answer.”

“Yes.”

“Nothing worthwhile is ever easy.” Cara vowed. “Everything worth having is worth fighting for.”

Nicci closed her icy blue eyes, and the smallest smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

“I choose to fight. I choose the hard, long road.” Cara’s eyes moved back to Kahlan’s face, and she brushed her thumb over her bottom lip. “I choose life. I choose love. I choose you, Kahlan.” She whispered, before she leaned closer and breathed into her, pulling part of her own life force from deep inside and gifting it to Kahlan through the Breath of Life.

It took a moment, and then another, and as Cara leaned back she felt the tickling of terror beginning inside of her heart, until Kahlan’s lips parted, and she pulled in a deep lungful of air, her eyelids opened, and Cara felt her heart start beating again as those loving blue eyes looked up at her.

“Hello.” Cara said gently.

Kahlan’s hand slipped around Cara’s neck, her fingers splayed against her skin. “Hello.” She said back, softly, lovingly.

Cara’s eyes closed, as she felt and heard every single emotion and vow that danced between the letters of the word hello. She sighed as she felt Kahlan’s kiss on her lips. As her blood pounded in her ears, their love consumed the fear and doubt in her body.

“As touching as this is? We should complete the ritual.” Nicci said from behind them.

* * * * *

Nicci finished the incantation, and the room had filled with a thick green glow. Now it was calm again. It was quiet. Nicci clasped her hands, and looked down at Kahlan.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Strangely Nicci was asking her.

This was never about what she wanted to do. This was about what needed to be done. They had been pinned in a corner, a horde of possibilities clawing at them, trying to get closer, to rip them to shreds. There was no wanting. There was doing this, bringing him to life, and ensuring that Cara lived. When she had thought that perhaps Darken Rahl had been exaggerating the threat to Cara, the threat of having the power and the headaches, Kahlan had thought that there could be another way. Kahlan had herself experienced the intensity of the headaches after she took the bond of Lord Rahl into her, but she had never experienced anything like the seizure Cara had. Kahlan’s heart had sunk and she had felt completely helpless as she held Cara, her body wracked with pain, the bloody tears that slipped from her eyes, the blood that just seemed to come from everywhere as she moaned and twitched in pain for nearly half a candle mark. It was in those long moments that stretched on for a seeming eternity that told Kahlan that she would do everything, anything to stop them. To heal Cara. If she could not take the pain from her, if she could not shoulder that burden then she would help and support any decision that needed to be made to make the pain cease, before it killed her.

She looked at Cara, looked into the eyes that loved her, that understood her, and that spoke directly to her own soul. Cara’s eyes told her all she needed to know in that moment, that if this was a mistake, then it was one they would make together. That no matter what happened after this moment, they would survive.

“Yes.” She said, answering Nicci, and affirming for Cara.

* * * * *

Kneeling on one side Neville’s body, which now contained the soul of Darken Rahl, she had looked into Kahlan’s eyes, as she knelt on his other side, and she knew that there was acceptance and forgiveness as well as power in the love they shared, radiating in her glance.

Nodding slighting to Kahlan, Cara leaned over the cold and bloody body and breathed in to the open mouth, filling lungs with the air and the magic.

Just the slightest breath was all it ever took, and she leaned back, looking down into the now open and dark eyes. While the flesh that held the soul was different, Cara could see Darken Rahl in those eyes, could see him in the way the dark eyes twinkled. She knew his expressions very well, and she knew that it was done. He was made flesh.

“Happy?” Cara asked him.

“Very.” His voice said, lifting slightly with his accent, different than the way Neville had spoken.

Kahlan’s hands moved, and he was too slow, still not used to the new cage he found himself in, and he could only grab her wrist, too late, as the Rada’Han was around his throat. It locked with a click.

“Now, not so much.” He glared at Cara. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You asked me to bring you to life. We have. We all have. But there is another side to the coin, one that you will abide by.”

“And if I do not?”

“Then the collar will stay on you. For a little while.”

“A little while?”

“Until one of us kills you.”

“That is not fair.”

“Nor is it fair that you had planned to use your magic, your new magic from Neville to control me.”

“Cara, all I want to do is save the world.”

“So you can rule it.”

“Well of course, why else would I want to save it?” His brow furrowed in annoyance as he sat up.

“Perhaps you still can. If we can come to an agreement.”

“This is your doing! Your idea.” He looked at Kahlan.

“Don’t blame me! Cara has always been one to think for herself.”

“Nothing is simple, and nothing in life is without consequences. You could kill me, but I will die very soon anyway. So is that really incentive? And yes you could kill all those I care for. But they too will die one day. No. if you want to live again, Darken Rahl, then you will do something for me. You will have a consequence for living.”

Slowly he stood up, and wobbled for just a moment, Neville was slightly taller than Darken Rahl had been. It would take him a little while to become adjusted to the change, she thought. “Do tell, now that you have me bound and my hands tied, what is it I will do for you? You know, besides all of the other things I am going to be doing.”

“You will sign and abide by a cruorem sacramentum.” Cara said evenly.

His eyebrows lifted. “Oh. Shall I?”

“Yes.”

He ran his fingertip over his bottom lip absently, the gesture that she had seen a thousand times, when he was thinking. “Alright. Now, I am going home, to the People’s Palace, where I will raise the armies and do all I can to battle back the threat from the Old World.” He said, stretching his arms over his head and then wiggling his fingers.

“Just like that?” Cara asked suspiciously.

“Just. Like. That.” He said emphatically.

“I doubt your motives.” Kahlan said.

“As you should, being such a smart woman. But the true threat right now? It is this idiot from the south and her mindless minions. Once that threat is over then we will concern ourselves with our own feud. Be glad, Mother Confessor. I have been more than kind. And more than fair, for now.” He looked at Cara for a moment, his eyes moving over her in such a way that reminded her that she was naked, but also of being on the receiving end of that lascivious gaze more often that she wanted to remember. “Pity.” He mumbled the word, and then smiled deviously. “If I were you, Cara, I would be following closely behind me. I am not sure how long you will last, with that power inside of you.”

Kahlan seemed to snap as she stepped closer to him. “You said you would take it! You said she would live if she helped you.”

“That I did, Mother Confessor. But, why in the world would I merely take it back now? When we are only half way through our agreement.”

“You son of a bitch! Cara gave you the Breath of Life; you are flesh again, what more is there for her to do?”

“Apparently I have to sign a pretty piece of paper, plus she will have to willingly give me what I want. And then? Then the power of Lord Rahl will be back within me, that is all.”

“I doubt that is all.”

“Well, let us say that there is a specific ritual that needs to take place, to give it back to me. And that needs to be done at the People’s Palace. You are both smart and strong, I am sure that Cara will live long enough to travel to the Palace.” He shrugged. “Did you truly expect it to be so easy? That you would snap your fingers and everything would be better?” When he said the word snap, he in fact did snap his fingers and the Rada’Han around his throat disintegrated. “I am proud that you made the attempt to trick me, I am. It makes this new heart of mine go pitter patter. Now. I will see you. Soon.”

Cara leaned dangerously close to him, and hissed under her breathe. “You owe me what you promised.”

“Oh that?” He leaned even closer to her, his beard prickling against her ear. “You always had that ability. Inside. I may have been a little”–

She punched him in the face, not thinking, only reacting, and feeling her own swell of anger at being so easily fooled. She watched as he licked the blood erupting on his lip. “Mm, my I do like being alive again.”

“Cara?” Kahlan asked from over her shoulder.

She was seriously considering clawing his new dark eyes from his skull. Perhaps he could read the thoughts on her face, as his smile widened all the more.

“Concentrate. Think about what it is you want, and pull it to you.” His eyebrows bounced up and down. “You may even get what you want. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get out of these horrid clothes, and into one of my many waiting concubines.”

“Good luck with that.” Nicci interjected. “Neville was never very adept.”

“Not to fear Nicci, there are potions galore in my private chambers at the Palace. I will be more than happy to show you a few of them.” He bowed in mocking to Kahlan, and then turned and walked pretentiously from the room, whistling.

“What did he mean?” Kahlan asked, her hand resting on Cara’s shoulder.

Concentrate. Could it be so simple? Just because one wanted something enough could they in fact get it, or was this another game, another trick that Darken Rahl was playing at. Cara closed her eyes, and stepped forward slightly, so that Kahlan’s hand slipped from her skin, and she concentrated. She focused. She willed it to be so.

Cara demanded that the universe give her the power to make all of Kahlan’s dreams and wishes come true.

* * * * *

The air was filled with the scent of sulfur and burning ozone; as if a lightning bolt just erupted around them in the room. The walls of the temple then shook ever so slightly, and Nicci narrowed her eyes, watching as Cara seemed to glow, from the inside out, as her skin took on the radiance of the sun, but only for an instant, before she crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Kahlan was beside her instantly.

“What in the Creator’s name was that?” She asked, delicately holding Cara’s head.

“Magic.”

“A trick? Was it Darken Rahl?”

“No.” Nicci said, looking down at Cara. The magic that vibrated through her body was ancient, and was a delicate mixture of Addictive and Subtractive, and had the faint taste of something very old.

“She is…. She is alright. Exhausted, but alright I believe.” Nicci tried to calm the Mother Confessor.

* * * * *

Her eyes narrowed as her face lifted to the sky. For a moment she felt as though someone or something had reached inside of her and pulled. There was no pain in the feeling, only a strange sense of discomfort. Settling on top of that discomfort was an eerie realization that the constant throbbing pain that radiated from her thigh, where her Agiel lay, was now a faint hum. It was no longer dripped in pain, only the hum of something alive.

Berdine’s eyes moved away from the night sky and the stars above, and moved back to Raina whose hand was resting on her own Agiel.

“He did something.” She said quietly.

“Why would you assume Darken Rahl could do anything? He is a ghost, he is dead and gone.”

“And all he had to do was wave a little thought of somehow being magically able to either kill Kahlan or kill Cara and either one of them would have fallen over the other to save.” She threw her hands in the air, frustration bubbling through her mind. “I just know that he is back in the land of the living and it will only be a matter of time before we are bowing before him again. Well no damnit, a world of a thousand no’s! I will NOT ALLOW THAT.” Anger, frustration and fear made her words rush from her mouth as her mind continued spinning in a dangerous vortex. The only think that stopped her, was the only thing that could stop her. Raina’s hands grabbed her cheeks, and she kissed Berdine; kissed her in a way that made her toes curl and all thoughts leave her mind. “I…er… what were we.” Berdine mumbled, her eyes closed.

“We weren’t. Shut up and kiss me.” Raina ordered.

Berdine’s eyes flashed open. “But we are guarding or watching.”

“I have something you can”–

“Don’t you dare. Don’t say that.” Berdine’s eyes narrowed, seeing the mischievous brown eyes looking up at her. “I mean it! You know when you talk in that way what it does to me, and I lose all sense of time, place, reason, decorum. You are licking your lip, Raina don’t lick your lip. At a time like this… oh Spirits don’t bite you lip either…. Oh… wait, what are you doing with your,” Berdine grabbed her, holding her arms to her sides forcefully, so forcefully that her feet left the ground. “Raina! We cannot let him become Lord Rahl.”

“We won’t. Now put me down.”

“How can you be so sure, so cavalier?”

“Because, Triana mentioned to me that if he was made flesh he would release us all.”

“If you believed that loon I have a nice rain forest to sell you in the middle of the Deep Nothing.”

“Your Agiel feels different. I know mine does.”

“So.”

Her forehead crunched in thought. “I think what happened is,”

Even from where they stood, on the cliff above the Mord–Sith temple, they could hear the massive doors being flung open. Raina’s voice ceased and they watched as Neville stepped through them, as he walked outside and stretch his arms. Berdine felt as chill move over the back of her neck, as he lifted his face to the sky. Instinctively she knew that the weasel of a man who had been Neville was no longer. That she was looking down at Darken Rahl. Perhaps it was the set of his shoulders, or the way his smile seemed highlighted by the moonlight.

“Well…” Raina sighed beside her. And in that sigh came a certain sad resignation. “Should we kill him?”

“I think we should.” Berdine replied softly.

“Put an end to all this nonsense.”

Even with its power being altered, instinctually Berdine pulled her Agiel. She used to fantasize about placing it to his ear, of imagining his brains liquefying. The memory and the thought made her smile, which dipped, as they watched his body fold in on itself, the violet robe drop to the ground, and the form of an eagle suddenly appear, it’s massive wings beating, pulling itself higher. “Huh.” Her shoulders sagged.

Raina leaned heavily against her side. “I was not expecting that.”

“Nor I.”

“Should we follow?”

She looked down into Raina’s warm eyes. “We can’t. Not unless commanded.”

“Then we wait. Perhaps Cara will command.”

“Who is that?” Raina asked pointing, and Berdine followed her arm, looking down the steep incline below them.

She shook her head. Moving swiftly two horses and their riders were preceding the plume of dust in their wake. “Oh, hey there Seeker.” Berdine grumbled. “Where was he an hour ago?”

“Irony my dear.” Raina quipped.

“Should we go down and greet them?”

“No. Nicci will handle it.”

“But what if?”

“I think if we were needed, we would know.”

“Ah.” Berdine breathed.

“Besides. A light just came on, there.” Raina nodded to the Temple.

“Oh. There?”

“Yes.”

“The white room.”

“No one goes in there.”

“Except.”

Raina sighed into Berdine. “I hope.”

She wrapped her arm around Raina’s waist. “So do I.” She kissed her forehead. “So do I.”

* * * * *

Feeling the sensation of magic she knew Richard was close by. Nicci had expected him to come rushing north, proverbial sword brandished to save them all from destiny.

Giving one last look to the Mother Confessor as she kneeled over Cara’s unconscious body, she noticed the way her eyes looked at Cara as if speaking words that Nicci was not sure she would ever understand nor feel, not in the same way as they could, she had moved down the stone staircase. The large door to the temple opened, and Richard rushed inside, the Sword of Truth in his hand.

“There are no maidens that need to be saved here, Richard. You may put your sword away.”

“Are they?”

“Alive.” Nicci sighed as her feet met the bottom of the stairs.

“So Darken Rahl has been defeated?”

“Defeated?” She laughed softly. “He has returned to the land of the living and is on his way to the People’s Palace.”

“What? That cannot be possible!” Richard exclaimed and slammed his sword into the sheath at his hip.

“It is. Very possible. “ She walked slowly through the receiving hall, and nodded to the Wizard who looked around uncomfortably. “Is there a reason why you traveled all this way?”

“I thought about things you said, and I realized that I was rash. I should have helped them. Kahlan and Cara are like family to me, and I should have offered to help.”

“Help?”

“Yes. They would have done the same for me. You were right. I was not seeing the entirety of the situation, not from Kahlan’s point of view. But,”

“Why say but. When you were doing so well?”

“This war, it is bigger than just them. It is greater than their epic love.”

Nicci crossed her arms. “Not to them, Richard.”

“I suppose.”

“Yes, the war? It will be catastrophic, and Kahlan and Cara? With our support, and our help? May very well be the ones who are able to stop it. To win the battle,”

“You talk as if you know something, Nicci.” Zedd

“There is a prophecy.”

“Bags!” The Wizard threw his hands up in the air.

“Is that why you are being so helpful?”

“Perhaps.” She said, putting her hand on Richard’s arm. “There is nothing here for you to do.”

“I would like to see them.”

“I know you would, Richard, but their time is short.”

“What, why? I don’t understand.”

“Give her a chance to explain, my boy.” Zedd broke in.

Nicci shook her head, she would not bother to explain. Not now. Because she knew that she would need a decade to convince Richard to take the power and the title of Lord Rahl. And Cara did not have a decade and Nicci did not have the patience to spin in circles with Richard. Instead she tightened her grip on his arm, and urged him back towards the door. “You are needed, Seeker, at the People’s Palace. We must rally the armies of D’Hara and begin to fight back the Imperial Order. The Mother Confessor and Cara will follow shortly, but for now? This moment? It is for them. Not for you, not for me. Not for prophesies or anything else in all the worlds. Now is for them.”

* * * * *

She closed the door, silencing the voices from down below in the receiving hall. The moment she heard Richard’s voice, Kahlan had sighed. She did not want to have another confrontation. Not now. Her head and her heart were a complete jumble. Thoughts bleed into uncertainty, feelings turned into random thoughts. From the moment Cara had turned and left the army’s camp, Kahlan had been moving forward. She had been rushing and acting, and thinking and feeling. From the moment she walked into this cold temple things had been happening, to her and all around her. She was beyond exhausted. And as she sat back down on the long white leather chase where Cara was laying, her eyes closed in sleep she knew they were both beyond the limits of exhaustion. Even having died and been brought back, all within the past candle mark did not offer any recompense. As she reached into the basin of water, and squeezed out the cloth, she could feel the weariness of her frayed emotions pressing on the backs of her eyes.

Seeing Richard was the very last thing she wanted.

Curling beside Cara, drifting into sleep was all she wanted.

Kahlan brushed the wet cloth along Cara’s cheek, clearing away the layers of blood. Then down her neck to her shoulder, before dipping it into the water again, squeezing and returning it to her chest, clearing away the grim and the blood. This was not the first time she had cleaned blood from the warm bronze skin, and she did not think it would be the last, but there was a part of her that wished it would be. That prayed to the Creator and the Spirits of her ancestors to keep abuse like this from happening to Cara. She was strong and stoic yes, but inside, behind her guise, the Cara that Kahlan knew and saw, that Cara deserved a life without pain, without so much blood.

Would that truly be Cara then? She asked herself, moving the wet cloth over her hip and down her bruised thigh. Probably not, her mind answered and her lips displayed a sad smile. Her lover was a contradiction, wrapped in blood and pain. She would be like a fish out of water, she would not be her true self if she did not fight, did not wage battles, did not bleed like this from time to time.

“How about I wish you only bleed like this for me.” Kahlan mused, rinsing the cloth again, and noticing that the water in the basin was now a thick red.

“I’ll try.” Cara’s voice whispered a reply.

“You… you’re awake.”

“I hope so. Or if this is a dream? Can I stay asleep?”

Kahlan looked to her face, and saw looking at her dark blue eyes colored as they were with the deepest green.

“It’s not a dream.” She whispered, her hand dropping the soiled cloth and cupping Cara’s cheek. Cara leaned into her hand, before turning and pressing a kiss to her palm. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Kahlan.” She replied, her eyes flashing, beckoning to Kahlan. And she heeded the call, moving closer, meeting lips with Cara.

The lips opened, called to her and Kahlan gladly answered, gladly fell into them, sliding her tongue inside of Cara’s mouth and she moaned, tasting her mouth, and how it was thick with desire. All the moments of the past days seemed to drip from her limbs, and Kahlan wanted nothing more than to lose herself in Cara. She lifted her mouth away; sadly, to take a deep breath and looking down could see the bruises on Cara’s face, even as her skin seemed to glow with renewed color.

“We should. Oh Spirits.” Kahlan groaned, feeling strong hands move up her sides, and Cara’s leg wrapping around her thigh. “We should rest.”

“No.” Cara breathed out, her hands finding purchase in Kahlan’s hair, holding her as their lips met again.

Cara’s tongue moved inside of her mouth and the explosions that touch caused eradicated any thoughts of protest from Kahlan’s mind. She wanted and needed to lose herself in Cara. In her mouth, in her touch. The kiss, feeling their tongues moving together sent sparks of need across her skin.

“Kahlan. I need you.”

“I am yours.” Kahlan panted in reply. “Completely yours.”

“Need to feel you. Touch you. Know you.” Cara said, her words punctuated by kisses along Kahlan’s throat, and Cara’s hips pressing up into her.

Her weapons and leather dress fell to the floor in an erratic heap, before she returned, and stretched out, her entire body covering Cara’s. Her skin sang with the glorious contact, with feeling fingertips moving over her thighs, her buttocks, and trailing up her back. She nearly moaned in a melody, before she shifted, slipping her thigh between Cara’s and brushing their lips together.

“Take me Cara. Touch me. I am yours.”

“Mine.” Cara groaned, suckling her bottom lip.

“Yours.” Kahlan punctuated as she pressed her center down on Cara’s thigh, painting her strong muscle with her excitement.

* * * * *

Their touches began tentatively, almost hesitant, until Cara moved inside of Kahlan, until she felt her inner walls clutching at her fingers, pulling her deeper, needing her. She whimpered Kahlan’s name, and vowed to give her everything, as her thrusts increased, as she ran her tongue along the length of Kahlan’s neck, her body moving with purpose.

She arched her back as she felt Kahlan move three fingers deep inside of her, matching her thrust for thrust. Cara felt on the edge of a scream; the scream of pure ecstasy, of losing herself blissfully in the throbbing wet passion that flourished between them. She knew Kahlan felt the same, could read it in her breathing, could sense it in the amount of wetness that doubled around her fingers and began dripping from her as well. They were rolling hips, thrusting arms, and wet open mouthed kisses. They were repairing miniscule hole doubt had poked in their peaceful love, and building their personal fortress on even stronger foundations.

In this there was so much emotion, and so much passion, and as Kahlan’s body became slick with sweat, as it moved above her, as her legs spread wider, allowing Cara to probe deeper she felt those stone walls around her heart cracking again. She felt her love slipping from behind its barriers and surging through her, pushing her to tighten around Kahlan.

Fingers moved over her cheek and she knew what Kahlan found there. She knew and she sighed into the touch, her eyes closing slowly.

“Cara? You are crying.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Oh… Cara.”

Slowly she opened her eyes and looked deeply into the rich blue eyes of her mate, the other half of her soul.

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. I am crying… because you are here. You are with me. I am touching you.” She brushed their lips together tenderly. “I am with you. Now. This is what matters this? This is all that matters.”

Cara, not stopping her thrusts, or how her own hips moved against Kahlan, rolled them over, so that she was on top, so she could feel how Kahlan’s leg moved around her own, how she could now reach deeper inside of the brunette, and curl her fingers. Kahlan gasped, the look of blissful pleasure coloring her skin, and Cara could feel it too. Could feel the edge rushing closer. She set her forehead on Kahlan’s and felt the overwhelming emotions flowing through her body, all the love she felt for this woman, and how very right this was. How the caress of her breath on her skin was right, how the arms that moved around her were just and good. This moment was filled with so much love and purity that it caused the emotions that for so long, so many years Cara thought she was incapable of feeling, of knowing. These emotions made her strong, made her complete.

“You are the other half of me. And when I think of you, when I get to be close to you, and touch you? I feel only peace; I feel how very right we are together.” The eyes looking back at her, widened, and seemed to open completely. She could see inside, she could see the depth of love of her mate, and how much in love with her she was. “No matter where we are, no matter where we go? Moments like this? When I look at you? I am home.”

“Cara.” She watched in awe as tears filled Kahlan’s eyes.

“I love you. Forever I love you.” Her mouth found Kahlan’s and she deeply kissed her.

She willed every beat of her heart, every ounce of her blood, every part of her soul forward. She surrendered and felt the power of every single aspect of her and who she was, all the good and all the bad, all that she knew that Kahlan loved, she willed it all forward, she felt their kiss as it changed, she knew that Kahlan could feel it, could feel her, all of her.

They had made love before, countless times, and each time took her breath away.

This time she would give her breath to Kahlan.

Lifting their lips apart, looking into those burning eyes that spoke to her of love and of promise; Cara felt no hesitation. She knew all she needed to know. She loved this woman, and this woman loved her.

She watched as, with the press of her thumb against Kahlan’s aching clit, her wet lips parted, and her eyes seemed to drip with ink as the blackness swirled, overtaking the blue, and as Cara thrust harder, faster, she was in awe. Hints, pinpricks of red filled the black of Kahlan’s eyes as her body began to shake, as her center tightened magnificently around Cara’s fingers, as she began to break exquisitely.

Cara pressed their lips together, keeping her eyes open, looking into Kahlan, and knowing Kahlan was looking deep inside of her.

Her mind sung Kahlan’s name. Her heart radiated in each beat how much she loved her, and she parted her lips to sigh her mate’s name. Kahlan’s lips opened to take the sigh, to take the love and the conviction, and Cara felt all of her that was love, that was just and right and pure, and felt it leaving her body, moving through her and her eyes widened as did Kahlan’s as the tendril of life and love moved between them. As the Breath of Life left her body, and inhaling Kahlan took it inside of her.

Trembling, feeling overcome with love, their lips met again, and this time Kahlan’s fingers lost themselves in her hair, and she deepened the kiss. Possessively and ardently.

Something had just happened, they both knew it. As their eyes danced together inside of one another, as their foreheads met, and as Cara and Kahlan simultaneous reached for one another, as fingertips moved against wet and swollen skin, they both knew that this time their love making was different.

It felt as though they were flying, floating around the white room.

As if there was nothing outside of these walls.

There was only the two of them, in love and in this moment.

Nothing else mattered.

There seemed not be no need for words, as if the spoken language just was not enough, would never nor could ever possibly convey exactly what the two of them were feeling. How in this moment it felt to Cara that she did not know where she ended and where Kahlan began. They were one, moving together, connected. Their eyes spoke of promises and vows, their bodies promised climax and consummation, as they kissed their shared the air of the room, and they drank from one another.

Tears were born again in Kahlan’s eyes, and the color of her eyes darkened. In response Cara’s vision blurred, and she felt the tears fall. She moved them, and rolled, Kahlan now above her, and they were sheltered in the darkness of her long hair, protecting and quieting them, as their breathing increased with the thrusts of their hands, with the rolling of their hips. Cara could feel Kahlan inside of her, seeming to touch her inside everywhere, her skin touching all of her as well. She leaned closer, impossibly, feeling as much of her against her, their breasts together, their thighs. All of them touching, and now trembling as the thrusts got stronger, deeper. As fingers curled and touched places inside that made Cara gasp.

“I love you.” Kahlan breathed into her, and Cara’s lungs pulled in all of her words. Savoring them, surviving on them.

“Oh, Spirits… Kahlan I love you too.” Cara whimpered, licking her lips and tasting the tears from Kahlan that felt on her cheeks, which merged and became one with her own. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” She cried as she felt Kahlan’s body tremble, as her eyes turned black once more, and as her power was released and it filled Cara completely as Kahlan reached her climax above her.

Cara was not far behind, feeling the beautiful eruption of Kahlan’s passion, feeling herself hold tightly to her, as the fingers inside of her reached deeper and she cried Kahlan’s name as she felt herself shatter beneath her.

Part 26

She had to insist that they stop and eat. He would have traveled without pause until they reached the massive encampment of the Imperial Order had she not stressed that the Mother Confessor had placed her in charge over him. That had gotten him to relent. Rikka did not find it amusing that the tables had been turned on her, and was quite certain that somehow this was all the Mother Confessor’s doing.

Stubbornly he had insisted that he tend the horses while she made camp. It was in moments like that she missed the comfort of her Agiel, and having the ability to smack him upside the head with it, for implying that she was somehow not fit for the job of seeing to their horses

By sheer luck they had been set upon by a small group of thieves earlier in the day, so Rikka was still feeling strong. Now she merely needed to hope they met up with some other ne’er–do–wells before the sun set tomorrow. She would not kill Orsk to survive, no matter how many times the Mother Confessor had told her to. He, for all his faults, was worth more than that. Perhaps one who had not been born and raised in D’Hara could not understand that to a D’Haran the greatest honor was to serve the Lord Rahl. Even with the wickedness that thickened and colored the blood in Darken Rahl’s body, even after all he had personally done to Rikka, it was still an honor to serve. This man, massive and scared, moved through life showing that honor. He had been a warrior in the service of their Master. He was sharpened and honed, a battle tested implement of destruction. He could slaughter hundreds if not thousands, and the blood left on his hands would not bring nightmares to cloud his mind. That made him valuable to both the cause, to the Mother Confessor. As Orsk moved efficiently tending the horses Rikka watched him, and felt as though she were watching herself. A warrior, scarred and changed, who was focused and understanding, but who also had a sense of self. She was no longer a tool for the monarchy to wield, but one that when asked would do the culling for them. Orsk was confessed, but there still seemed to be something in his presence, in the way he handled each moment that spoke of a deeper satisfaction in pleasing the Mother Confessor. Perhaps it was very near to what Rikka felt.

Once finished he came and sat beside her in a huff, opening his pack and he pulled out some sausage, and actually offered her some.

She took it with a smile. “Thank you Orsk.”

He blinked his one eye, grunting a reply. “Do you think we will be there tomorrow?” He asked.

She looked at him. He rarely spoke.

“Hard to say really. The Order is on the move. Yet with their size that movement is slow.”

“Moving back into the Midlands was a sound decision. If I were leading their army I would be focusing on moving through there.”

“Better to be battle tested against those of the Midlands before taking on the D’Haran Horde.” Rikka said proudly, and he smiled at her.

“Exactly.”

Rikka was curious suddenly and asked, “How does it feel, being confessed?”

He made an odd sound, a mix between a huff and a grumble. “Complete love. I'd do anything to please her, to make her proud. Which.” He scratched the incoming beard on his chin. “Which was similar to following the command of Lord Rahl. But, in doing her bidding, I never for a moment paused to question the justification.”

“Ah, so, aside from having to do whatever she says, it is much the same as I feel for her.” Rikka said with a sigh, and handed him back the piece of meat. She had no appetite. He took it from her and looked, his face appearing as though he may be having a thought.

“You can never be confessed, can you?”

“No. Mord–Sith die when touched in that way by a Confessor.”

“Except for Cara.”

Rikka looked up at him sharply, before she confirmed. “Except for Cara.”

“If you could be… would you want to be?” He asked.

“To know devotion, to give myself to another completely? I know that. I have done that. But… Mord–Sith are rooted in pain and hate. To be confessed, you give yourself completely with love. Mord–Sith do not know that, cannot know that.”

“I have known a few Mord–Sith in my time.”

“I am sure you have.” She chuckled.

“You would want to know, what it feels like. That love.”

“Wanting something doesn’t mean you will ever have it. In my case, yes.” She looked up at him, searching his calmly scarred expression. “I want to know what love feels like, but.” She moved away and kneeled, setting her hands on her thighs and she sighed. “I never will.” Rikka took a deep breath.

Her words and thoughts did not sting, not as they used to when she was younger. When she thought her life would be different. Not that she remembered her time as a child, before she was taken and broken and evolved into a Mord–Sith. No, she remembered being young, living in the People’s Palace, and being at the side of Darken Rahl. Basking in the darkness he wrapped around him like the finest velvets and linens. Being with him made it easier for her to be whatever he wanted her to be. In her youth and ignorance, in her blind devotion she felt what she could only imagine was a sort of love. When she would kneel and give devotions, his face would be in her mind, and she poured all of herself into the words. She had even believed the lies he told her, that she would be his favorite. That was of course before it all had changed.

Rikka shook away the memories, the feelings of fantasy. The truth had been she was a tool. And that he twisted her affections, twisted and harnessed them, made them into the strong spike that he repeatedly shoved through her heart, destroying it. Not that it mattered anymore. She was breathing borrowed air, blinking under borrowed stars. She would kill, and destroy within these borrowed moments, and then she would return to the burning embrace of the freezing Underworld.

“You could.” He said softly.

“I am dead, Orsk. The dead are not loved.” Her tone made it clear she was done talking.

Rikka leaned forward and pressed her head to the ground. In her mind she spoke the devotion, envisioning Cara standing before her, with her boot pressing painfully into Rikka’s shoulder.

“Why do you do that, nightly.”

She glared at him for interrupting. “You are D’Haran, you should not even ask. Or think. You should know. Did being confessed wipe the drive from you?”

“No. I still feel it. Some times more than others.”

“Then come, do it with me.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Why would I?”

“You don’t have to be kind to me. I am just a means to an end.”

“As am I Orsk. And even tools like us have souls. I would rather my soul be devoted than to be controlled by the Dream Walker. Perhaps because you are controlled by the Mother Confessor?”

“I’ve never felt controlled. Only that I had a sacred duty to please her.”

“Then come, kneel with me.”

And he smiled. Which would normally appear ghastly to anyone else, but Rikka could see the slight hint of joy in his one eye.

* * * *

The real world came crashing down onto her chest with the weight of a hundred stones, as Cara’s eyes opened. Faintly the light of morning was slipping through the stained glass window, set high in the granite wall. Her arm was around Kahlan’s waist, and their body heat was mingling, creating warmth between their naked bodies on the leather chaise. Her eyes looked slowly around the room, seeing the white linen that hung on the walls, the soft white leather of the chair in the corner, the full pillows piled on the thick rug in the corner. All white. The room that was meant to be used only once the pet had been trained and made obedient by their Mistress, when the use of violence was no longer required, merely used to enhance.

It was also used after a joining.

But those instances were so very rare.

There were, perhaps one or two Mord–Sith in each generation who would bother with joining to another. Most were focused and content with merely having moments of pleasure with their pets, with random strangers, or the occasional tryst with another Sister of the Agiel.

Cara knew that out of all those girls in her training year, both she and Berdine had been through the joining. Which was nearly unheard of. To Cara, not being joined to Kahlan was unfathomable. Not being bound to her was not an option. It never was. Each step of her life, each moment brought her to this place, brought her to the woman who lay in her arms, pressed against her.

Her eyes narrowed and her body tightened as the door to the room slowly opened. Cold blue eyes, surrounded by tousled blond hair looked in. Cara watched, curiously, as Nicci set Kahlan, and then Cara’s packs on the floor.

Her eyes spoke of the shortness of time.

Cara blinked at her. Understanding.

The small reprieve they had been granted was at an end. With the rising sun outside, reality was also increasing, gaining its hold over them.

The door closed, and Cara sighed into Kahlan, pressing her lips to her shoulder.

“I remember the first time I woke like this. Feeling your arms around me.” Kahlan said softly, announcing that she was awake as well.

“In Aydindril.” Cara said, kissing her skin once more.

“No.”

“No?” Cara asked perplexed.

Kahlan turned slightly, laying on her back and looking up at Cara, her hand moving over her arm. “We were east of Renwold. Richard had gone off to the south. It was… just you and I.” Kahlan’s eyes were rich with the vision of the past she fell into. Her pupils dilated slightly. She ran her fingers through Cara’s hair. “I had been crying; confused and haunted by those strange nightmares. Sometime during the night, you had come to me, wrapped your arms around me, and I knew that I was safe.” She smiled softly. “I was feeling… when I woke… and I was not sure what it was exactly, besides the feeling of safety and calm when you touched me.”

“You were safe.”

“I am safe.” Kahlan corrected. Her fingers moved over Cara’s cheek. “Last night.”

Cara’s eyes closed.

“What we did.”

“Yes.”

“I… felt… I feel… different.”

Cara swallowed the ball of emotion in her throat down, nearly choking on it.

“Cara look at me.”

Slowly she opened her eyes, and looking back at her was love, compassion, safety as well as the wonder that was her mate.

“We… together… did we?” The hope that filled her bright blue eyes magical. The love, and the knowing, that what they had done, that what Cara had given to her may just be the spark that was needed to make life. “I only want you.” Kahlan vowed, her voice breaking slightly.

It was almost too much, and Cara averted her eyes. She did not want to look away, but she did not want to look at Kahlan either. She sighed as she felt Kahlan’s lips on her cheek.

“Whatever happens, know that I love you. I love you more today than yesterday and will more tomorrow. Each day I fall more in love with you, Cara.” The lips pressed again, this time on her other cheek. “I know you are concerned. About what is to come. You are marching down the path of what if.”

Cara’s eyes snapped back to Kahlan. Because she was right, only Cara knew what was at the end of the path. It was no longer the what if, but what was to come.

“What if is a twisting and dangerous road, my love. I do not know all the trials and all the tribulations that line it, but I do know. At the end of the path? I am there. Loving you.” Kahlan said softly.

Cara set their foreheads together and allowed herself to take in a deep breath. She blinked, and was drowning in the deep blue eyes staring back at her. “I hope she has your eyes.” She whispered, and Kahlan gasped, gently, her arms moving around Cara and pulling her into a firm embrace.

Cara meant it. She hoped their daughter had the warm and bewitching blue eyes she so often lost herself in.

Lips brushed against her own, and she felt the warm wave of love, and the dread was pulled a little further back, deeper inside of her. Not to be forgotten, but to be set aside, covered in love, if but for a moment. She returned the tender touch, her skin sang of promise as fingertip traced her jaw, and her mouth opened to Kahlan, to taste the emotion in her kiss.

“Can we stay here? In this place, forever?”

Cara deepened their kiss, swallowing Kahlan’s words, telegraphing her agreement, her love, and her want to do just that. She ran her tongue along the top of Kahlan’s tongue, before retreating. She pressed their lips together once, before she replied in a thick voice. “I want nothing else. Than that. But, forever would be short.”

“Short?” Kahlan searched her face. “The headaches?”

“Are returning.” Cara confirmed, hating the low throb she was feeling behind her eyes.

“Then it is time.”

Cara nodded, and untangled their limbs. She stood, looking down at Kahlan for a moment more. Seeing the beauty of her form, the lines and length of her limbs, the glow of her skin. Cara adored the sight of her naked body, and wanted to tell her so. Wanted to show her.

But she knew, no matter how strong the burning desire to do so, she would not be able to for long. Instead she burned the image of Kahlan laying there, calm and peaceful into her mind. And then she signed, and forced herself to turn away.

They dressed in silence. It almost had the feeling of awkwardness, neither of them wanted this moment to end, neither wanted to be pulling armor on, nor wanting to move from the safety of the stone and mortar that surrounded them.

To ease the pain in her chest, Cara turned her back to Kahlan, as she tightened the leather corset around her aching ribs. Each pull on the buckles and she wanted to turn, wanted to see Kahlan again, wanted to burn the image of her inside of her mind, have it etched on the inside of her eyelids to see her every time she closed her eyes.

The sensation that the floor they stood on was rotting away with every moment could not be ignored.

She flinched as a hand set on her shoulder, and turned her around. She blinked away the emotion in her eyes, and looked at the floor as she felt Kahlan tightening the strap that kept her collar attached to her corset.

“Look at me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why.”

“I am afraid.”

“Of?”

“That if I look at you, then that will be the last look I am ever granted.”

“Then wouldn’t you want it, if it is the last look, to be this one? Or the one after that? If you do not look, Cara, how can you have a last one?”

“That was my thinking. If I don’t look, it cannot be the last.”

Kahlan’s fingers pressed to her chin, lifting it. She signed, and met the gaze of warm blue eyes. “I love you Cara.”

She felt her lips pull at a smile.

“So, I take it you had nightmares last night?”

“Just one.”

“Would you like to tell me about it?”

Cara pulled on her leather gloves. “You already know it, as we are living it.”

“Ah.”

“Kahlan, I love you.” Cara said firmly, her eyes going hard with her sincerity.

“I know. And we will make it through this. We will not be bested by circumstance or trickery. I promise you.”

Cara could not speak, fearing that if she did she would shatter the look of determined hope in Kahlan’s eyes. And that was not something she was willing to do.

* * * *

He actually began taking steps backwards as she moved across the room, his face, mouth, eyes dropping wide. It was not the Mother Confessor who moved towards him like a feral beast, it was Kahlan Amnell, and her eyes were set with the fire not of her power but of her passion. It almost appeared to Nicci that as Kahlan walked through the room, towards Richard, that her rage left a trail of burning droplets of fury.

She set upon him without preamble or greeting. “Will you do it now, Richard?” She said in a voice that could have shattered glass.

His mouth moved like he was a fish looking for water.

Her hand went around his throat as his back slammed into the wall. His eyes bulged, with both distress, and his own anger. “Tell me Richard, WILL YOU?”

“Kahlan. I… I can't.” He choked.

“Won't. You can. But you won't.”

“It is not.”

He did not finish his sentence, as he dropped to the ground, hand holding his broken jaw from the punch she gifted to him.

“You think you can pick and choose your life? You think it is so easy, that you can merely decide your destiny?”

“I do not believe in destiny or prophecy. I believe that life is our own to live, Kahlan.”

“Oh. You are correct Richard. It is. Life? It is for us to determine how to live it. As a coward, or with honor. There is no shame in duty. Frustration? Yes. Annoyance. Most assuredly. But there is never any shame in it.”

“Then why try and shame me for fulfilling my duty as the Seeker?”

“You selected the destiny that you want? Well then you accept the outcome. You turn your back on who you are and your duty, Richard, you decided that being Lord Rahl is too hard and too cumbersome, yet you grab hold to this other destiny of yours in being the Seeker of Truth? Because why? Because it elevates you above all else, because it affords you the freedom of not obeying anyone? That you can move about freely and do what you desire. Is that what you think? What you believe? Wake up Richard! You just threw your freedom away. You did that a year ago when you denounced your birthright, when you set all of this into motion. Accept that you are to blame for this, and accept that you could never have been Lord Rahl, because you are at heart a maniacal little boy. Be honest. You will get more respect from others if you do.”

“I am.”

“Just so that we are clear? You will never have my respect. Be glad you are somewhat of value, fighting on our side. But if I hear that you are not devoted to Lord Rahl, that you do not give your soul and your devotions? If I suspect for one moment that you could be swayed by the Dream Walker? Nicci will have to get in line, because I will kill you myself.”

“Kahlan.” Zedd spoke up, looking stricken at all Kahlan had said. His eyebrows were bouncing like agitated caterpillars, but the gleam in his eye echoed Kahlan’s sentiments.

“You are worthless to me.” Kahlan spat out at Richard before she stormed out through the main door of the temple. Cara, who had remained silent, moved to follow her.

Richard stood up quickly, and moved towards her. “Cara what is going on?”

“Don’t ask me, don’t talk to me. I will hit you harder.” She glared at him as she kept her distance and followed Kahlan outside.

Zedd went to Richard, and tenderly set his hand on his broken jaw, setting the bone and fusing it with magic. Richard only grimaced slightly. The muscles in his cheek twitched.

“Why can’t they understand? I cannot accept that role. I cannot become what I hate, what I vowed to destroy.”

“You vowed to destroy the man. That is the difference.” Zedd said, patting Richard’s cheek.

“Not to the people he terrorized. I have seen her mad, but not enraged like that. Not since.” His fingers wrapped around the hilt of the Sword or Truth, and Nicci watched his eyes brighten as the power and the anger of the sword filled him. “Not since she discovered that Cara killed her sister. And now she wants me to ignore all I believe, for the woman she once wanted to kill with her bare hands.”

“Cara is dying, Richard. She cannot contain the power often Lord Rahl.” Zedd reminded.

“But… surely.”

“Surely there is a solution? Oh yes, there is Richard. Darken Rahl will gladly take back the power and the bond. He will step up and become Lord Rahl.” Nicci looked at him with disgust. “Why do you think he was brought back into the flesh? For fun? They did it to save her life.” She frowned. “I advise you to do lots of stretching, and prepare your knees. You will spend a lot of time on them once you devote yourself to your brother.”

“She speaks the truth Richard, we all must prepare for the worst case scenario now, and we must devote ourselves to Darken Rahl or be subjected to the Dream Walker and Six.”

“This is insanity. We fought him and killed him.”

“Insanity. That is a good word for it.”

* * * *

Kahlan moved past her in a blur of dark leather, flowing hair and a scowl, and Berdine knew well enough to step aside. The warning signals inside of her body; the Mord–Sith was screaming at her to prepare for an attack, but she pushed those reactions and instincts aside. The Mother Confessor was enraged, but she was not looking to kill, at least not Raina or her, as they stood tending the horses.

She watched as Kahlan went to Nick, and began securing her pack to the side of his saddle. Raina looked up at the angry woman, and then back to Berdine.

They shared a shrug.

“Berdine?”

“Hm?” She replied, turning to see Cara standing beside her. She blinked as she felt Cara’s hand on her arm, pulling her further away from the others. She glared down at Cara as they moved around the corner of the temple.

Once they were out of view of the others, Cara released her hold. Berdine noticed as she began clenching her empty fist. “I need to ask you something.”

“I deduced that.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” Cara’s eyes narrowed as she glared at her.

“But if I am not then would I really be me?” Berdine asked, crossing her arms.

“Need I remind you who I am?”

“You are Cara, she who gallivants into traps, and is a general pain in my ass.” Berdine smiled. “I know you want to hit me so badly right now. I can almost feel your fist on my skin. But you won’t.”

Cara’s brow twitched. “No?”

“No. Because curiosity is currently overruling your anger. So ask.”

Cara let out a deep sigh. “When you and Raina.”

“Wait, never mind.” Berdine shook her head. “Hit me instead.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to tell you anything about Raina and I.”

“But I have been in the middle of you two; I have been with you both, separately and together.” Cara’s brows furrowed. “There is nothing I do not know.”

“You’d be surprised as to what you do not know.” Berdine grumbled.

She had expected the strike, just not expected it to be an open handed slap.

“Thank you Mistress, can I have another?”

“You just may, if you do not answer me.”

“Mistress, I cannot answer a question not asked.” Berdine snarked, and knew that she was pushing Cara. But she enjoyed the look of frustration in her eyes; almost as much as she enjoyed knowing that she owed Cara these teasing moments. For it was Cara who had left them there at the temple for too long and not long enough. She would have rather died at the hands of that sniveling little Wizard than to be where they were now, in a world where Darken Rahl walked. Levity was her way of controlling her emotions, the ones that currently were being lead by fear and dread.

“Did you ever, have you ever, given her the Breath of Life?” Cara asked in a hushed tone.

“Cara. You killed Raina how many times in front of me? Of course I have!”

“No.” Cara growled. “I mean, have you ever, when you were…”

“OH.” Berdine understood now.

“Oh.”

“Yes. We have.”

“What happened?”

“I saw stars when she exploded into a thousand bits of light.” She knew she was smiling softly, but could not help it. The memory of once such night, where the world dripped with the promise of love swirled in her mind.

“That was all?” Cara pressed.

“Yes. Why?”

“I … I think… When Kahlan and I… when I.” She tripped over her own tongue for a moment.

“You did something last night.”

“Well, yes. We did quite a few something’s.”

“Something else. There was a moment, when it felt like I could not breathe, where that feeling inside, that demon that lives in my soul felt her power slipping away, and since then my Agiel has been… different.”

Cara blinked. “Mine are ten times stronger.”

“Mine are ten times weaker.”

Cara pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment. “Perhaps… I… well that makes no sense.”

“Does anything ever make complete sense?” Berdine asked.

“When I am talking to you I generally begin to doubt the color of the sky or which way is up.” Cara snapped.

“I shall accept that as a compliment.”

“Somehow I expected you would.” Cara closed her eyes. “Hold your Agiel.”

“Why?”

“NOW.”

Even if Berdine wanted to argue, she could not. She felt the command of not only her Mistress but also her Master. In that tone, with that force of magic Cara could tell her to cut out her eyes and she would do so without hesitation.

Berdine pulled her Agiel free, feeling it in her hand, familiar and yet foreign. The slow hum was so different than what she knew. It was unnerving. She blinked back the thick sheen of frustration that coated her eyes, and watched as Cara’s face became hard, as the lines smoothed and she appeared to be cut from stone.

Slowly Cara’s hands came together before her heart, palms pressed flat, and when she pulled them apart, Berdine saw a small spark of light and her throat punctuated it with a sound. Her Agiel pulsed with renewed power, sending its familiar pain radiating through her entire body as its scream filled the air.

“Now, does it feel… as it did?” Cara asked, her eyes opening slowly. For an instant they appeared a silvery white, before the color of green and blue seeped back into them.

“Yes, my Mistress.”

“Berdine?”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“I am sorry.”

“For?”

“That he walks. That we are returning to the People’s Palace, where he is lying in wait.”

“If there was any other way, I know you would have found it.” Berdine offered, and Cara merely smiled sadly, before patting her arm, attempting to reassure her. It had the opposite affect. The trepidation in Berdine’s soul grew more.

* * * *

His breath was almost strong enough to be felt on the back of her neck as he stood behind her seething. Kahlan looked at Raina, whose dark eyes were glistening with intent. She would pounce on Richard if Kahlan asked. Instead she shook her head and the brunette Mord–Sith rolled her eyes, as if to say that it was Kahlan’s loss.

Perhaps it was.

“Did I not hit you hard enough? That you so quickly nip at my heels, asking for more?” She hissed, pulling the straps tighter over her pack on Nick’s saddle. The horse, sensing her uneasiness turned his head. Even he looked to her, offering to do considerable damage to Richard.

“Kahlan, I do understand your anger.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you for understanding Richard.” She turned to face him. “How very noble. You understand.”

“Do you understand what it is like for me?”

“No. I don’t. And I don’t want to. Yet I think you will tell me anyway.”

“I had to stand by and watch the woman I love turn away from me, and chose another. I had to lick my wounds and accept that the future I envisioned was nothing more than a fantasy. I had to take a hard look at life and see it was not what I thought it was. Not if you could so very easily pick her over me.”

“Nothing is ever easy, Richard.”

“It was. You looked at Cara, and you loved her. For some reason you did, you do. That isn’t what matters now. While I am not over it, while I still love you, I can understand now that we were not meant to be. Just because I wanted it. For … for love to be true, for it to become this unstoppable force love must be given and love must be taken.”

“You make it sound like a commodity. Love is not a sword that is handed back and forth.” She stepped closer to him, not to be close, but so he could feel the heat of her anger. “Love. Love is a miracle. Love is everything that cannot be explained or described. Love. Between two people is a force that cannot be contained nor be tamed. Love is the greatest gift, if you love and are loved in return.”

His eyes became down cast. “I know that now.”

“I don’t care. It does not matter one stitch to me, Richard Rahl, if you understand love. That I know love? That I feel love? That is all that matters. What I feel. What she feels. That matters. You do not matter.”

“If I could, with an honest heart and intent, take the power and the magic of Lord Rahl into me? I would do it Kahlan. I would save Cara. I would save her because I love her. And because I love you. While I do not think I am still in love with you, I do love you. I know that I do, because I care about what happens to you. Because I would do everything I could to make your life… better.”

“But you cannot do this one thing.”

“No. I cannot. If I were to try? I would fail. And what would that prove? Besides that I am fallible? What I can give you I will. I give you my stubbornness and my strength. I give you my life, Kahlan. I will fight until I am no longer alive. I will fight back the tyranny and the swarm from the south. And I will fight him, when it is all said and done. I will send him back where he belongs. Back to the Keeper. So, no. I cannot do that one thing for you, because even if I were to try, Darken Rahl would still regain his power.”

“He may.” She shook her head and moved away from him, her eyes looking up, and watching as Cara and Berdine were approached by Nicci and Zedd. She watched as Cara shrugged, and said something, but they were too far for her to hear it. “He will.” She turned back to Richard. “The logic you live by, the truth you feel inside is your own. I will never understand it, I will never claim to. All I know? She is dying, and not just because of the power. Because she is giving in to him, she is granting him power and a life that he should not have. Not after all he has done, to the people of D’Hara, the Midlands, to the Mord–Sith, to you. She has to break her own heart, just to live. Part of her will die the moment she does that Richard. I will never forgive you for being a party to that.”

“Kahlan,”

“Please. Don’t. I want… I want to try and find something to hold onto, some goodness in these moments, before the love of my life has to sacrifice part of her heart and her soul to save this world that will never comprehend what she has done, or how it will hurt her.”

* * * *

Nicci sent a pulse of healing magic through her hands, which were on either side of Cara’s head. The Mord–Sith trembled slightly, but her eyes remained open and clear. She was perhaps one of the strongest people Nicci had ever met, in all of her years alive. Which was saying something, though Nicci decided to not put words to the respect that she felt.

“That should help some. Until the time comes.”

“Would it be too much to ask, for the Spirits to allow, you to do what you just did, repeatedly until… until.” Cara shook the thoughts from her mind, as if her asking the question or even thinking there could be a way to not fulfill the prophesy was distressing.

“To take the pain from you? I used the life–force, the Han of one of those I had taken.”

“How many more lives are inside of you?”

“A few hundred.” Nicci said honestly.

Cara did not look at her with scorn; instead she offered a slight smirk. “Somehow I don’t think even a hundred days would be enough. I appreciate the effort.” Her eyes hardened, Richard was approaching them.

“You are welcome, Cara.” Nicci offered, and the blonde nodded, before she walked away.

“Why such the long face, my boy?” Zedd asked, idiotically Nicci thought. Richard’s face was long and sad, as it should be. While she was not one to be consumed by emotions, she had seen them enough in others to recognize and comprehend them.

Richard was struggling with his own humanity, as well as his inabilities.

Which was as it should be.

“I will never be good enough.”

“You are who you are and what you are. Just because one man cannot stand in the path of a raging river and stop the devastating floods it will cause, that does not mean that man is not worthwhile. You have a place in life, and it is not always at the forefront, Richard. That is your gift, as the Seeker of Truth, and as a War Wizard. To know your value and have the wherewithal to comprehend when and where you are to stand and fight.”

“Perhaps it is in the fight where I will shine. Where I will do the most good.”

“There you go. Talking like a true War Wizard.”

“It just feels like I should be doing more.”

“Because you should.” NIcci said sternly.

He looked at her, his eyes wondering, questioning.

She had given in once to the kindness she knew lived inside of him, and had in that one evening allowed herself to get lost in the potential that was Richard Rahl. She knew what he could become, but was annoyed that he was not yet accepting of it.

“Time continues to move, and you are attempting to go against it. To drag your heels, spending your time running off on tangents. Preaching to others. You need to live up to your destiny.” His face flashed anger at her words. “You are a great man.”

“She may think this is my doing, you all may think that. But I do not. In my heart I know that everything I have done I did with honest intent. I am not an evil man.” He crossed his arms. “I have not sworn my soul to the Keeper. I have not killed in his name, nor moved these circumstances along the line of life. You have.”

“I don't doubt your motives Richard, and still you doubt mine.”

“Do you expect anything else? Truly? I cannot seem to get a read on you, when I think I have you figured out, Nicci, you go and do something completely uncharacteristic.”

“If I keep doing that, wouldn't you deduce that is in fact who I am?”

“Your loyalties are scattered.”

“No. You see them that way. But they are not. I gain nothing from game playing, manipulation, or untruth.”

“Then?”

“Why do the things that I do? Who do I follow? Myself. This is my life, and after a century of servitude I have taken it back. I follow my own command, and my own wants. I am loyal to myself, Richard.”

“And me?” His eyes asked much more.

“I care for you.” Her heartbeat quicken, slightly, but enough, at the tone of his voice and the memory of the two of them, together in the cold and thick night. The one night where she had allowed herself to fall. To consider, in his arms, caring for another. She blinked it away. Caring was not something she had the luxury of doing. “But I am not loyal to you. Somehow, for some reason you make me feel weak. You make me feel things that I would rather not. Yet I could kill you if I had to. So I avoid having to.”

* * * *

Nearly everyone was forced to ride double once they left the Mord–Sith Temple. Kahlan and Cara brought up the rear, riding on Nick who seemed to neither mind having two riders along, nor keeping a slower pace. While Richard’s stallion was large, he was still dwarfed by the warhorse’s size. Berdine and Raina were solemn as they rode together, and Nicci seemed resigned as she sat in front of Richard. No one spoke, and Kahlan was grateful. This journey was thick with bittersweet emotions. To either have Cara die, or to have her give in to Darken Rahl. Neither was something Kahlan wanted. But one or the other would be.

The others had their own feelings of malcontent, and as their horses kept up a very strong and steady pace they all resigned themselves to the journey.

They did not stop for the midday meal, and as the sun moved to press upon their backs the air changed, it seemed to fill with the faint hint of spice that was found in the Azirth Plains, in the dry and seeming desolate landscape of D’Hara.

Cara’s weight shifted behind her slightly, and her chin settled on Kahlan’s shoulder. “I love the danger of knowing your blade between us, between my breasts, is that wrong?”

“Spirits no.”

“Kahlan.” Cara breathed her name.

“What is it? Are you alright?”

“Oh. I am more than alright… I.”

Kahlan trembled, feeling the warm wet pressure of Cara’s tongue moving along the length of her neck.

“Something… about… moving…like this.” Each pause was punctuated by Cara’s mouth on her skin.

Kahlan felt the deep red flush burning under her skin, and her eyes looked ahead, to see the others all riding, focused in the distance. She did not know what had come over Cara, but feeling her mouth on her she did not care. She wanted to surrender to the eruption of need that flowed from where Cara’s body was touching her own, and radiating out.

Cara’s hands moved, one pressing against her stomach, the other cupping her breast, filling her hand. She leaned back slightly, feeling the press of Cara’s body against her own.

“There is something… in the scent of your skin… that… drives me… fills me…. with… fiery need.” Cara groaned, and Kahlan mimicked it, as Cara’s thighs tighten on the outside of her own, as she felt Cara press her center into Kahlan’s buttocks. It sent shivers through her bones, and her mind flashed to a memory. Of laying on their massive bed, naked, on her stomach, her fingers digging into the white linen sheets as she felt Cara’s scalding hot center thrusting and rubbing against her naked buttocks, as she felt Cara’s increased rhythm, as they both moved together, as Cara moaned her name, and her release exploded, coating all of Kahlan with the deluge of her excitement.

“Touch me.” Kahlan sighed, feeling her own body reacting to the memory, as well as the movement of Cara behind her.

“Always.” Cara nipped at her neck. “Keep… your eyes open. In the distance. Do you see it?” Cara asked.

Blinking for a moment she looked, and unfocused her eyes. As they road down from the jagged plateau of the mountains she could see it, sitting high atop rocks amid nothingness. The massive structure was far in the distance, but with each moment it was becoming more defined.

“Yes.”

“Your kingdom.” Her mate vowed, as the hand on her stomach moved lower. “This… this is your kingdom Mother Confessor. What say you?”

Cara’s hand progressed down the length of her thigh, and it caused her legs to twitch. Nick slowed in his gallop, but Kahlan patted his side, wanting him to keep his pace.

“I say… I will protect it with all I am, give up my last breathe for this world to remain free.” Kahlan replied.

“As will I.” Cara whispered, before her fingers moved up her inner thigh, before they found the space between her legs that was already screaming for Cara’s attention. “I will give everything to you.”

“Please.” Kahlan breathed, and her hands moved to the pummel of the saddle, knowing Cara would hold her up, keep her safe. She whimpered as she felt Cara moving against her, leather moving devastatingly in wanton circles against her.

Cara licked her neck, as her fingers move quickly, urgently around her clit, lifting and rolling the swelling nub, as they rode. The dry heat of the air seemed to touch Kahlan’s exposed skin, amplified by the wetness of Cara’s mouth on her neck and the wetness that poured from her under her mate’s attentive touch.

Her mind sparked with life and color, it seemed to highlight the light taupe of the landscape before them. She did not know what had come over Cara, nor did she care. The others were far enough away that they would never know where Cara’s hands were, or how they were coaxing pleasure from her.

Kahlan felt the tightness inside of her intensifying as fingers pinched and pulled her clit in a blissfully painful way. It increased the desire and thrilling pain reverberating into the depths of her center that clenched, desperately wanting to hold fast to her mate. Rapidly Cara was urging her to the edge, and as teeth bit into her neck, and then were soothed the sting with her tongue, Kahlan knew she couldn’t hold back the flood as she broke, as her hips jerked, and she felt that consuming pulse of her entire body. Cara seemed to know as she shattered, for her body trembled tightly against her back, and the thrusts against her buttocks stilled.

“When you break, when you flood my hand with all that you have, I die. I blissfully die.”

Kahlan groaned, turning her head slightly. “Cara. I need you.”

“You have me.” She murmured before kissing Kahlan.

Part 27

She had to remind herself to keep breathing, as her heart rate slowly returned to some level of normalcy, as she felt Cara’s breath against the side of her neck, as her hands moved back to chastely lay on her stomach. The wind howled around them, moving and passing them by, as did the lengths of land beneath Nick’s galloping hooves.

For a moment, as she let her eyes move over the ever growing palace before them, Kahlan thought that she had imagined Cara’s touch. That the stolen moment of pleasure, of feeling that intimate touch, had only been in her mind. That she had wanted so much to know her mate’s passion, to be touched with need, that it had not truly happened at all. Until she shifted in the hard leather saddle and felt the tenderness of her center, and the moisture that lingered.

Cara’s gloved hand moved over her arm, just a gentle touch in response to the deep sigh she released.

Knowing that no matter how much she wanted to turn and kiss Cara, to touch her face, to stop the movement of time, it was not practical or possible, not at that moment, so instead she focused on the monument to human ingenuity before her. In her hopes to allow her mind to think of something other than the impassioned images running through her mind.

The exterior the People’s Palace was the color of the earth it seemed to erupt from. As if the Creator herself had willed it, had taken mountains and hills in her hands, gathered them and then pressed them together, so amid the flat and desolate plains there rose a massive metropolis colored in the varying hues of the brown. Kahlan had never known there could be such depth and variety of tone in the color of earth. From the parched and cracked desert tan to the thick deep brown of rain soaked meadows. If she tried to make a list of each varying degree of color she would run out of ink before she ran out of variations. It was beautiful in its starkness, an oasis in the center of seemingly nothing.

The closer they became, the more massive it was. Even as they traveled along the exterior Kahlan knew that easily twenty of the Confessor’s Palaces could fit inside, if not more. It was astounding in its sheer size. Along the outer walls there was but one way inside, and that gate was so very high that a road had been pressed into the outer wall, ringing the palace, rising up at an incredibly sharp incline. Nick’s gallop slowed, as he had to adjust to the new angle. The others’ horses slowed as well, moving up and around, until before them all was the end of the road, and the massive doors stood open.

Berdine and Raina were in the lead and guided their horse to the right once inside of the massive doors of the People’s Palace, doors that could not be moved by man alone, being so massive. They were moved using a series of chains, counter weights, and iron wheels that were half concealed in the earth and would not have fit inside some of the more enormous rooms of the Confessor’s Palace. Cara had whispered to Kahlan to steer Nick to the left. When she asked why, Cara had whispered to her that it was a secret. After the all too short moments as they raced across the plains Kahlan wanted to follow anywhere Cara led, knowing that at the end of the journey she would find wonder. Once they moved through the doors, under the canopy of stone that was easily taller than one hundred feet, the calm tones of the earth colored walls were punctuated by the most brilliant displays of color. Colors that seemed impossible yet were before her, thriving and alive. The deepest purple in violets being displayed before store fronts, the shocking blues on the wings of musical birds in wicker cages, the variety of reds in the apples on display. There was color and there was life and it was brimming and pulsing all around them inside the embrace of the sandstone walls.

Silently they slipped off of Nick, and Kahlan removed their packs, as Cara motioned for a groomsman. She spoke to him in a hush, with him nodding and smiling. Kahlan slipped her pack over one shoulder, leaving her the ability to remove her sword, if it came to that. She tossed Cara her’s. “Shall we?”

Cara nodded, a tight smile on her lips. Kahlan looked once over her shoulder, seeing the others in the distance, as the crowds began to move between them, making it hard to see. She trusted Cara, and smiling rushed to catch up with her quick steps.

People moved through the halls and the open markets of the People’s Palace. It was different from the mayhem Kahlan had experienced the last time she had been here. It was in fact the largest structure she had ever seen, and it had been constructed three thousand years ago, and not only was it the royal House of Rahl, it was the capital of D’Hara. The whole city of Aydindril could fit inside of the walls of the Peoples’ Palace four times over, as could the people that lived there. Inside the protection of the walls were families, even nobility in massive living quarters. Hundreds of thousands of D’Harans were going about their daily lives as if the world was not changing around them. The People’s Palace had a hum of life moving through the thick walls, and people seemed genuinely happy.

After they had killed Darken Rahl, the city had been in an uproar, a power vacuum, and there had been madness and people had moved about the private rooms of the Lord Rahl, stealing everything they could carry. From the wine cellars to the libraries. It had been a sort of bedlam. As the large marble icons of Darken Rahl were pulled down and the people fought among each other to get their hands on what they perceived as riches, many people died. But now, somehow and some way, the people here were moving about calmly, as if there was not a monster moving among them.

Hushed whispers were heard around them, as she followed closely behind Cara, as she walked quickly through the people in the corridors. Some people, in their brightly colored robes, moved out of Cara’s way, their eyes moving down with respect. These people were used to seeing the startling red leather of the Mord–Sith moving around them, but they did not seem to fear them. It was as if these people understood exactly who and what the Mord–Sith were, and they moved out of the way, not because of fear, but because they respected the women who were their protectors; the personal guardians of their Lord Rahl.

As she easily kept up with the quick pace Cara set, she heard again whispers. This time, she was quite certain she heard someone say, “Mother Confessor.” And then she heard, “Queen Kahlan”, and voices erupted, all hushed, but with the thrilling excitement that comes when a group of people begin to chant the same words.

“Cara, why are they calling me Queen Kahlan?”

“Because you are the Queen.”

“They are looking at me as though they know me.”

“You don’t say?” Cara chanced a quick glance over her shoulder at Kahlan. The sparkling of her eyes did not go unnoticed.

“The last time I was in D’Hara it was for a fleeting moment. No one should know me. And I am not in my white dress so don’t make that excuse, Cara. I saw your eyes twinkling.”

“Me?”

“Yes you.”

As they passed a massive open area, where there were store fronts, and small carts set up selling everything from honey cakes to flowers, fresh fruits and vegetables, Kahlan spied a small group around one of the many beautiful fountains. They caught her attention as they were smiling and singing. She listening closely, and gasped, her hand reaching out and finding Cara’s arm.

“What is it?” Cara asked.

“They are singing.”

“D’Harans do sing.”

“They are singing.” She turned and looked at Cara. “They are singing about me.”

“Imagine that.” Cara grinned.

“How… how did this place… become….this?” Kahlan brought her to a halt. “I am serious Cara. This is not the D’Hara I remember.”

Cara’s head titled to the side, slightly. “When the people of D’Hara felt again the bond to their Lord Rahl, when that bond was strong and purposeful, when that bond was colored in the calming shade of you, your kindness, and your justice? They felt it too. The people began working together instead of against each other. And when they heard that there was a new Queen? They rejoiced, and they knew they needed to prove to her that they were and could be just people. They… wanted to make you proud.”

Kahlan swallowed back the emotion in her throat. “I am very proud.” She fingers found Cara’s and she squeezed. “I am.” She did not add that she was proud of Cara. So very proud. And she hoped that with the look in her eyes, those words did not need to be spoken. “Where are we going?”

Cara’s eyes looked back through the crowds they had just moved through, almost as if she were looking specifically for something or someone. Not finding them apparently her eyes moved back to Kahlan’s. She could see the darkness around the edges of her eyes, and there was a certain color rising in her cheeks. “There is not much time. I don’t know… I don’t know what the world will be like once the sun sets on this day.”

Kahlan waited, patiently as her jaws clenched.

Her voice was lower, thicker as she said defiantly. “I can steal a handful of sand from the hourglass of this day.”

“You can?”

“I can.”

“And what,” Kahlan took a step closer to Cara feeling as though her eyes and the tone of her voice were pulling her. As Cara also stepped towards her. She could feel her breathing increase, just by seeing the look in Cara’s eyes. “What would you do with that stolen time?”

“Make the world stop turning, with you.” Cara declared. “Come with me?”

“Yes.” Kahlan was aware of the need to touch Cara thundering in her blood. The look in her eyes, the smell of her skin and leather. She wanted the world around them to disappear; she wanted to be lost in the wonder of time stopping.

And she believed that if anyone could force the sands of time to stop, it would be Cara.

The hand in hers pulled her along, roughly as they began walking, almost running. Cara led her to a stone staircase set against a wall, open as it was to the courtyard below, and as they went up, and then turned outward, they descended another series of stairs. Kahlan felt the strange sensation of the earth moving slowly beneath her feet, and set her hand to the wall for a moment, for stability.

“The People’s Palace moves. Slightly. Only those with magic are aware of it, can feel it.” Cara said softly beside her.

“Moves?”

“The magic of the spells here, move some of the walls and stairs.”

“That is not possible.” Kahlan said with a slight hint of laughter in her voice. A structure this massive could not have moving walls.

“Oh, you will find, in the People’s Palace, anything is possible.”

“Anything?” Kahlan looked at her, seriously, her heart wishing that were true. That if anything we possible that she could get her wish, that they could leave this place, with Cara no longer burdened by the weight of the Rahl power, and that they could live, and just be.

* * * * *

As they entered between the massive open doors made of wood, iron, and steel Nicci was quite certain that this palace was the largest she had ever seen. It was larger than the Emperor of the Imperial Order’s compound in the very southern tip of the Old World. Aside from its impressive size she immediately felt the pull on her Han. It was as if once she slipped through the doors, a small hook was placed inside of her, and was removing fine threads of her power. She looked sharply at the Wizard, who looked at her with a knowing smile.

“You feel it.”

“Of course I feel it. You told me that this palace was built on and in the form of a specific power spell, but I have never felt anything like this.” Nicci said softly to him, and he nodded. “Do you feel it Richard?” She asked.

“Only slightly. Zedd mentioned that the more in tune you are with your own magic, that the more you would feel it. I am not that in tune I suppose.”

“No. I suppose not.” She agreed, and turned her attention back to the large courtyard off to the right. Her eyes watched as Cara and the Mother Confessor, once through the gates went in the opposite direction.

“Where on earth did they run off to?” Zedd asked looking around as groomsmen appeared to take their horses.

The two Mord–Sith with them seemed to move like liquid as they dropped from the horse. One of the older groomsmen bowed his head significantly before Berdine.

“Berdine, welcome home.” As he stood smiling, the smaller Mord–Sith struck him so hard across the mouth Nicci was sure he would be less a tooth.

“Mistress Berdine.” She snapped, and the man stumbled back quickly.

“Of course, Mistress Raina, of course Mistress Berdine. My most humble apologies.”

“Was that necessary?” Richard asked as he dismounted and then extended his hand to Nicci, who took it, her attention still on the other women.

“It was.” Raina said her voice as firm as the stone walls around them.

“Richard. You do not understand how things are done here. Do not interfere.” Nicci stressed softly.

“We are confident that you can find your way.” Raina said, and began walking away.

Berdine hesitated just for a moment, looking at Richard, her expression hard. She chewed her lip considering something before she sighed and spoke. “Do not assume you understand this world. You would have, but that time is past. Someone will be along shortly, to escort you. Keep your sword put away, Richard.”

“Berdine, do you know where Cara and Kahlan went?”

“I do. They are going where all Mord–Sith go when they return to the People’s Palace.” And with that she turned and walked away.

“That was strange.” Richard said, his hand finding the back of his neck which he scratched.

“No. It was not.” Nicci offered and Zedd came to stand closer to them. “The man spoke to Berdine as though she were beneath him. Clearly he knows them. Raina reminded him of his place. It would be the same if someone referred to Kahlan by her name, and not her station. And that they left? Well I have an inkling.”

“I spent time here, many years ago. Nicci is correct. Respect is very important to the D’Haran people. And Mord–Sith, traditionally always retire to their personal chambers when they return to the People’s Palace.”

“Why?”

Zedd’s hand gently met the back of Richard’s head. “They are the elite guards for the Lord Rahl. They just crossed the vast, hot, dusty Azrith Plain in skin tight leather. They are going to change boy! I dare say we could all use a thorough dousing in a bath and a change of clothes. But I myself will settle for the humiliation of my odor if I can get my hands on some of that divinely concocted D’Haran stew and wondrously baked bread that I am smelling.”

Nicci heard the boots against the marble floors, and then the rattling of armor, before the troop of soldiers stepped around the corner. They were colossal men, all easily the size of Orsk, with muscled arms, and wearing a full supply of weapons on their bodies. She knew many a man who would shrink in their presence. And though Richard should be one of them, he did not. He seemed to grow taller and stronger looking at them, with his hand resting casually on the handle of the Sword of Truth.

In the center of the men was one with sandy blonde hair and interestingly a thin line of blood on his bottom lip. He stepped forward, his blue eyes confident. “Richard Rahl, Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, and Mistress Nicci, we are the First File, and I am Commander Benjamin Meiffert.” His large fist met his chest with a resounding thud.

“And you know who we are how?”

“Probably the same reason his lip is bleeding, isn’t that right Commander?” A voice asked from behind them, and Nicci slightly turned, noticing that a group of ten dangerous looking Mord–Sith, being led by a smirking brunette had approached them silently from behind.

“That would be correct, Mistress Garren.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Mistress Berdine and Mistress Raina announced your arrival to us. We have been tasked with escorting you to Lord Rahl’s personal chambers, where he is waiting your arrival.”

“How does it feel knowing your Lord Rahl has returned?” Richard asked gruffly.

“Feel? I am sorry Sir; members of the First File do not feel. If you please, this way.” Commander Meiffert gestured forward.

“What if we would like to take out time, perhaps get something to eat? Rest?”

“Sir, this is not a request.”

Richard’s jaws clenched, and Nicci, set her hand on his arm. Her touch said for him to be good, and he huffed, as they all moved forward, now surrounded on all sides.

“I am sure that your Lord Rahl would prefer that his guests are allowed a moment to get something to eat.” Zedd insisted as they walked.

“If you can obtain food and eat it all while ensuring your steps do not hesitate it is not my concern. I was ordered to bring you straight away. I will not deviate from my orders.”

“Don’t mind Commander Meiffert, Wizard. He is put out because he had been planning a proper greeting for the Lord Rahl and our new Queen, and was caught unprepared when Lord Rahl appeared.” The brunette Mord–Sith goaded, and the Commander sneered at her. “That is what happens when one entrusts things to the First File.”

Commander Meiffert grumbled under his breath, and she laughed in response. Nicci thought there interplay odd, but when it came to protecting the sovereign of their land, each group wanted the honor to be the immediate ring of protection, and clearly these two groups were at odds. And she would assume that was on purpose, to remove complacency.

They walked, moving deeper into the heart of the Palace, through the thickening crowds. “This draining is rather bothersome.” Nicci commented, feeling the pull increase, and wondering if she should work to put a blocking spell around her, or if she should do her best to ignore the feeling.

“It is to ensure the safety of the Lord Rahl.” The Wizard explained, and she looked to see him suddenly holding a turkey leg, though where he had managed to get it she had no idea. And it did not surprise her. That Wizard was ingenuous when it came to finding food. “And yes, it is very bothersome. I find myself becoming exhausted, trying to stop the bleeding out of my power. We will shorten our stay, and only be here for as long as we must.”

Her eyes moved around them, over the massive men and the very harsh looking women, who all kept their hands close to their Agiel, and their eyes on Nicci. She was familiar with the untrusting glare of a Mord–Sith. These women were different only in she did not think they would be tempered by the kindness of the Mother Confessor.

“Yes. Short would be advisable.”

* * * * *

There was a length of iron, as thick as her arm that rested on an ancient hinge, waiting to be dropped down over the back of the oak door that was as deep as the palm of one’s hand. As they moved into the room, hands grasping at one another, needing, reaching, Cara slammed the door behind her, and dropped the iron bar.

The door and the bar had been purposefully made to ensure that no one could enter this room. This had been Cara’s private chamber when she lived at the People’s Palace. No matter what calls were heard, no matter what one may want if they were on the other side of that door, they would not gain entrance into this room, unless they used magic. And Cara seemed to know that no one would be using magic now. That no matter what had taken place in the hours before, and what may take place after, this time, this moment, was only for them.

Kahlan’s hands were in her hair, pulling their mouths together, kissing deeply, wantonly, almost sloppily. There was such need and desire burning between them, burning so very strongly that she was surprised that it was not melting the leather from her skin.

On the arid plains of Azirth, as her mind had become consumed with dread of what was to come, and as the pain began to flair again behind her eyes, Cara had found relief in touching Kahlan. In the taste of her skin, in the way her hips bucked uncontrollably as her gloved fingers had moved against her slick folds. Cara had always found that the battle drums and the resounding trumpets of doom where silenced completely when she was with Kahlan. When she lost herself in the moments between moments, in that special place where there was only love and passion. Where desire became the keeper of time, and where the very air around them became charged with a million bolts of lightning, creating light brighter than the sun with the anticipation of their touch, and then reality would become blissfully dark when she joined with her mate.

The power between them, the passion, jumped from her blood to Kahlan’s as their mouths moved together. As their tongues danced, and as their breath spoke in the language of need. Their kisses were erotically angry. Each one building upon the one before until the kiss became passionately rough, as she tasted the arousing tang of blood as one lip was broken by teeth, and still there was the undercurrent of peace between them.

A moan broke the silence, followed by a whimper of surrender, swallowed by a groan of need.

Kahlan dropped to her knees, her hands desperately and aggressively pulling at her belt, which when undone, dropped to the floor, then came the Agiels. All the while, Cara unlaced the leather at her side, and as she looked, as she was captured really, by Kahlan’s burning blue eyes, she shuddered, pulling leather from her shoulders, as Kahlan pulled from her hips, and then Cara was naked, standing in the pool of blood red leather. The cold in the air nipped at her skin, feeling like Kahlan’s teeth. And then, as she did feel teeth on her inner thigh, the reality of that sensation moved through her, causing her to shudder more.

Her hips jerked as Kahlan’s warm hands set themselves on her thighs, as they urged Cara to widen her stance. Biting her lip she did so, drowning as she was in the thick pools of blue looking up at her. Kahlan’s fingers pressed as they moved around her legs, as the gripped her buttocks as her inner thighs were caressed by breath and thick dark hair. Before the warm lips pressed against the top of her sex, before she felt the scalding, wet tongue sliding through her folds, opening her wider.

Cara’s hand went to the back of Kahlan’s head, as her mate’s mouth moaned against her sex, as she felt her tongue caressing her slick skin.

Her teeth pressed into her bottom lip, as her hips moved, caught in the rhythm of Kahlan’s tongue against her clit, as her fingers were lost in the rich shadow of Kahlan’s hair, pressing her closer, needing her deeper.

“Kahlan.” Her mouth moaned the name and the eyes below her darkened slightly, black pulsing around the edges of deep blue, pulsing it felt in time with the muscles of her center. Her head slammed back against the door as she felt Kahlan’s tongue plunging deep inside of her, curling before retreating and them moving inside again, as Kahlan moaned, drinking Cara’s essence. Her thighs were shaking with the tension, and as lips surrounded her clit again, as she felt the firm hard sucking the muscles in her body tightened, and Cara raced towards the edge. Gasping, unable to breath she looked back into the dark eyes staring up at her as she fell over the cliff, as she exploded into Kahlan’s mouth, as she shattered, consumed by pleasure and by love. Her teeth broke the skin of her lip and she panted with the tang of copper on her tongue, along with the spasming of her muscles against Kahlan’s mouth.

Her knees gave way, and she dropped before her mate, her beautiful mate who looked at her with dark eyes and her lips full and coated with the glistening of Cara’s essence. She melted into Kahlan, her tongue licking at lips, and then she felt Kahlan’s strong arms around her, pulling her closer, painfully so, beautiful pain, and they were kissing animalistically, the surge building again already inside of her. Cara shuddered as Kahlan moaned and sucked on her bleeding bottom lip.

Kahlan whimpered, “You taste so good.”

Cara broke again, and in breaking, as her thighs were coated anew in her need, she pressed Kahlan back, she growled low in her chest, and she began pulling at laces, wrenching away the corset, she needed to have flesh, needed to taste and touch and she needed to take Kahlan. She needed to mark what was hers.

Roughly she pulled the last of the offending leather away, and her hands reached for Kahlan. They crashed together, and hands moved, fingers caressed, squeezed, as teeth nipped and as tongues tasted. The aggression was so reminiscent to their sparing, their fighting, and a sharp pain radiated from her shoulder, from under Kahlan’s mouth. Cara knew she would have a bruise there and she nearly growled aloud in pleasure at the thought.

They pushed, rolled, and crawled to the low resting bed, onto neatly made red linen, which became bunched and pulled as they moved, writhing together. Kahlan wrapped her legs around Cara’s hips, and arching up pressed her dripping wet sex against her lower stomach. She painted her skin as her mouth continued to suck at Cara’s split lip, causing the sparks of pleasure and pain to shoot through her body, to feel as though Kahlan’s teeth were again pulling on her clit.

She did growl then, Cara felt that part of her, the part that was slightly darker than the rest, surge forward, her hands shoved at Kahlan’s shoulders and she threw her onto the bed. Kahlan was panting heavily, her mouth and chin wet, her eyes dark, almost completely black. Almost. Cara’s fingers grabbed her hip and rolled her over, as she pounced on her, as she lifted her to her knees and hands. One arm held Kahlan, wrapped around to cup her firm full breast forcefully, the other hand trailed nails up her thigh roughly, as her mate bucked her hips, as she moaned Cara’s name. Her fingers moved through the torrent of wetness she found between her legs, moving her fingers between swollen and slick folds. Her nostrils flared as she tried to pick up the scent of her mate in the air, and as she did, Cara pinched Kahlan’s clit.

“CARA!” She yelled with shock and arousal. The pinch had to have hurt wonderfully. The way Kahlan’s sex bucked against her palm was the clear indication that it had. Cara pressed her forehead to Kahlan’s back, feeling her skin burning, and as she licked at the blossoming sweat along her spine, she moved two fingers deeply inside of Kahlan. She pressed back into Cara and released a long drawn out moan. Cara’s eyes closed at the sound, at the feeling of being so surrounded, and she moved in fingers, thrusting them, her pace brisk, but not too fast, she wanted to coax and draw this out. She wanted to stay buried deep inside of Kahlan for as long as she could.

“More.” Kahlan panted, as she matched the rocking rhythm.

Cara’s mouth fell open, suddenly so very dry, and she added another finger. Kahlan shifted, slightly and then it was Cara’s turn to moan as she felt and heard Kahlan’s fingers moving above Cara’s, as Kahlan began to rub roughly against her own clit.

“Oh Spirits.” Cara choked.

Kahlan hissed, “Harder. Oh Cara HARDER.” And she obliged, she let go, she allowed the darkness to rise in her throat as her wrist began to thrust powerfully, quickly, slamming those three fingers deeper and deeper into Kahlan. Cara pressed her mouth between Kahlan’s shoulder blades, and she bit down, her teeth pressing deeply into her thin skin and muscles. The Confessor was bucking back against her thrusts, moans and sighs coming from her mouth and Cara matched them, panting as she was, as her mouth pressed even harder.

She felt Kahlan breaking around her fingers, tightening so much it was almost difficult to continue moving them; pushing deep inside and pulling almost all the way out. Almost. She just growled with the effort and did not slow, did not stop. She thrust deeper and harder, and her teeth applied that final touch of pressure needed and broke through Kahlan’s skin and she screamed Cara’s name. The power surged through Kahlan’s body, and moved around them, touching them, racing through Cara, slamming into her chest and her soul, before sliding back. And as Cara sucked deeply, as her mouth filled again with the soft and familiar flavor of Kahlan’s blood, as her tongue moved to sooth the hurt her teeth had caused, she curled her fingers and lengthened her thrusts inside of Kahlan, and she felt her legs tremble.

“Oh please, oh please, oh spirits, oh please. Cara. Oh Cara,” she whispered, as the thrusts became deeper, slower, and she lifted her head back, and looked at her mark, seeming to glow on Kahlan’s flesh.

The sound of her voice, the look of the mark on her mate, the tightness of her center throbbing around her thrusting fingers was all slamming into Cara repeatedly and she felt her own body shudder as she slipped over the edge. She could feel the rush of blood running through her body, and wetness moving down her thighs which trembled with the ever increasing need to know more. To touch more, to taste more. To break her mate again.

“Oh Cara. Spirits. Please.” Kahlan was so close to the edge again, and Cara felt her heart crack slightly, unable to contain all of the emotions she was feeling. She rolled Kahlan onto her back, and keeping her fingers thrusting long, deep, hard, she attacked her clit with her mouth, and her mind screamed along with Kahlan, as the Mother Confessor shattered again, flooding her hands and her mouth.

* * * * *

Raina pulled on the fresh leather collar, the final touch to her new, and more importantly clean, uniform, then froze. She looked over at Berdine, who had been watching her the entire time very intently.

“I heard it too.” Berdine offered, and then pulled her belt roughly closed, latching it and then slapping her hands on her thighs. “That woman pushes the limits.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Of course not. If we were anywhere else in the entire world?” Berdine said, looking up at her lover sadly, “Then I swear to you. That we would be making those very same moans.”

“Screams too?” Raina asked, her lips curling into her wicked smile. The one that made Berdine curse in her mind for the hundredth instance that they were here, in the People’s Palace, and that there was not enough time for her to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her.

She mirrored her smile. “Most assuredly.”

Raina sighed, and crossed her arms. “This place.”

“I know.” Berdine agreed, feeling suddenly like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. All thoughts of warmth and love had frozen solid to be swept briskly under the door; removed from view. Knowing a life outside of these walls, knowing the life she had in Aydindril, Berdine did not think she was capable of being back here. Of being under the thumb of Darken Rahl. Certainly not the old Darken Rahl, who favored the more devious tortures. Tortures of the mind and heart over those of the body. Knowing what she knew now, Berdine did not think she could survive all of the things that she knew he was capable of providing to her, to Raina. She stood, and set her hand tentatively on Raina’s neck, softly, gently cupping it. “If I asked you to leave now, would you?”

“With out you?”

“Yes.”

“Never.”

Berdine sighed, and closed her eyes.

“Don’t be sad; don’t feel guilt or any of those other depressing thoughts. You know if I asked you that very same thing you would not go.”

Berdine’s eyes opened slowly, and Raina was peering up at her, eyes wide and honest.

“Together. We go into the bowels of the Underworld, or to the bliss of the Afterlife. Either and or both. Together. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Berdine sighed.

Raina winked and smiled slyly. “Would you like to shake on that agreement?”

Berdine licked her bottom lip, smiling widely doing so. “I think I would like that very much.” She said before Raina jumped into her arms, and their lips met hungrily.

* * * * *

The chill of the room that moved over her sweat slick skin was not only due to this room being far below the ground. For a few brief moments they had laid, limbs intertwined, kissing, touching, and murmuring to one another. But then, as she knew it would, a wall seemed to drop around Cara, and she had risen from the bed, and moved to their discarded packs by the door. Kahlan did not fault Cara for being distant, because she knew, in truth, Cara was anything but. She was merely focused, and needed to remain focused. Her mate was full to the over flowing with love and emotion, she could see it in how her eyes were the lightest shade of green she had ever seen them, and her face was set in a hard scowl, because she was moving, intently, focusing on what she had to do, to ensure that she would not make a mistake.

The cold affected Kahlan, but it did not hurt her. In this instance, as her skin tightened and she shivered she knew that the cold she felt was not merely the temperature. When Cara grew cold she became intense, in a very controlled way. She showed no outward sign of emotion, because it raged like the fiercest storm beneath her skin.

The cold that thrived in Cara was one of the many things she loved about her.

She watched as she lifted a small cylinder from her pack and then came back to the bed. She sat, her back to Kahlan, and she merely listened as Cara pulled out a sheet of parchment, and watched as she dropped the container to the ground.

Kahlan sat up slightly, and was able to see as she spread the parchment out, that it was blank. With purpose Cara stabbed a long and very sharp quill into her wrist. Kahlan winced, and then her eyes widened as she watched as a thin wisp of black smoke moved from Cara’s wrist up twirling around the long quill and feather. She held her breath as Cara sighed sadly, and then pulled the implement from her skin and began writing on the parchment. The scratching was swift and sounded ominous to Kahlan, as if the words were being written into flesh, cutting into it, versus being put to paper. Swallowing the sense of tragedy that she felt, she moved closer to Cara, and set her chin lightly on her shoulder. Her eyes blinked back immediate tears, seeing the bright red blood of her mate spelling out words.

in meus cruor , per meus own manus manus ego spondeo meus pietas , quod meus vox ut ego mos fulcio totus conventio written hic. per poena of nex quod vomica meus eternus animus ut abyssus. meus cruor est meus vinculum.

Her voice was a whisper as she spoke, reading, and translating to Kahlan at the same time. “In my blood, by my own hand I pledge my devotion, and my word that I will uphold all covenants written here. By penalty of death and cursing my everlasting soul to the Underworld. My blood is my bond.”

She pressed her trembling lips to Cara’s shoulder, and watched as she continued to write. This time she wrote in the common language between all the lands in the New World.

My soul is sworn to the Mother Confessor, my devotion is given freely to her, and to her bloodline. I will not raise my hand in hate or anger to her or her image. By my blood, and punishable by my immediate death.

As Cara set the quill and parchment aside, Kahlan wrapped her arms around her fiercely.

“I can’t live in a world without you.”

“You won’t. I am with you, I am alive in you. I am in your heart.”

“No… I won’t live without you. I can’t, Cara.”

Slowly she turned and cupped Kahlan’s cheek and looked at her deeply. “You will live. You will live for us.”

“No.” Kahlan sobbed.

“Kahlan, please… don’t think the worst, think the best. Think of this moment, think of all the moments. Think.” Cara’s voice cracked thick with emotion, completely out of character for her.

“I will.” Kahlan swore.

“Live. For us. For…” She set her hand on Kahlan’s heart, and it slowly moved down her body, letting it rest against her womb. “For us… for her… for… everything.” Cara’s eyes looked back at her. “I love you. Always.”

“I love you too Cara.”

* * * * *

Berdine and Raina were standing at attention just outside of the door once Cara opened it. They looked as if they belonged there, standing expressionless. Cara looked at both of them for a moment, her hands on her hips, before she evenly and forcefully spoke.

“You will protect the Mother Confessor with your lives. No one will touch her or even raise a hand to her. Do you understand?”

There was silence for a moment, before Berdine rolled her eyes and replied. “Yes Mistress Cara. Though really? Using the bond to command us to do that is like using a blacksmith’s flames to melt a piece of butter. Overkill.”

Cara grumbled, her words nonsensical, as she turned and offered Kahlan her arm, which she took, happily wrapping her fingers around the smooth new red leather. Cara took one step and then stopped, and turned to face them both once more.

“The minute you can. The moment it seems like you will succeed. Take her and leave here. Leave the Palace and never come back.”

“That I am afraid is not going to be possible.” Raina said firmly.

“Oh?”

“We won’t leave you.” Berdine said, and the way they both spoke it was clear to Kahlan that they both meant it. No matter how much they despised this place, and were even terrified in a way at being here, they would not just abandon Cara.

“Yes. You. Will.”

Kahlan watched her eyes jumping from Raina’s dark eyes to Berdine’s light, seeing the both of them flinching as if in pain.

“Yes Mistress.” Berdine said through clenched teeth.

“I am glad we have come to an understanding.” Cara said roughly, before turning again, and her hand settled on Kahlan’s gently. Her body seemed to be pulled tight, but the touch of her hand was so very gentle. Kahlan inwardly sighed, wishing there was something she could do for her.

They walked in silence, through massive halls, moving over the most beautiful white marble floor with hardly mark or flaw, and then to a massive staircase. As they walked, Kahlan noticed more Mord–Sith seemed to just appear from the shadows, and they fell into step behind them. For the first time in a long while she felt apprehension when she saw so much red leather.

Warm blue green eyes met her questioning gaze, and Cara’s thumb moved over the back of Kahlan’s hand. No words were needed for her to understand that things had now changed. That they were now walking within Darken Rahl’s Palace. Kahlan smiled softly, and took her hand from Cara’s arm, and laced her fingers together, relaxing her shoulders as they walked.

They moved off of the stairs and through massive hallways, which were as wide as King’s Row in Aydindril. There were more people milling about, dressed in finery of a very noble cut. Fingers glistened with jewels, and Kahlan knew that these people were the reputed nobility of D’Hara. Dukes and Duchesses.

She followed Cara’s lead, and they turned, strangely it seemed as though they were backtracking, but when she tried to think about where it was they had come from, and which direction she found her mind becoming thick, and somewhat muddled. She blinked, now understanding more of the magic that lived inside the walls of the People’s Palace. It truly was as if the structure itself was alive.

To their right an enormous series of archways appeared, and in the distance she could see the late afternoon sky, over the courtyard. She stopped. Her ears picked up the sound of chisels and hammers. Her eyes were dumbfounded and went wide at what she saw.

Even in the fading light she could see the form of the statue that was being worked on, that was emerging it seemed from the cold hard marble. It seemed to glow it was so white, with hardly a vein or line within it. It was nearly complete, and she released a startled sigh and walked closer to the edge. To see that she was standing easily thirty feet from the ground below, and looking directly into her own image, carved it seemed not by man, but by the very hand of the Creator herself.

“Why on earth?” She whispered, before turning back around to Cara. “You did this?”

“Well, I did not do it personally.” Cara smiled. With her eyes she asked Cara to explain. “The idea was put into my head by Richard.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“It was. He said something once, about how the Mother Confessor was merely a totem, an image for the people to believe in.” She smirked, and Kahlan could not help but return the smile. “And then, well, Nicci and I were discussing a few things, and the idea sort of became more real, in my mind. The people of D’Hara used to call Darken Rahl, Father Rahl. It makes sense for them to call you Mother Kahlan, or Queen. This… they will see this, they will see your beauty and your power and they will have something to believe in and they have hope.”

“Hope? I am holding out a sword.” Her eyes narrowed. “The sword you had altered for me in fact.”

If Cara blushed in front of others, she would have then. She came to stand directly beside Kahlan, their shoulders touching, and she lowered her voice, so it would not carry to all of the people who were intently trying to listen. “Bards and minstrels have been filling the Peoples Palace with songs of your grace, honesty, fairness, beauty, and sense of justice. The people of D’Hara are falling as much in love with you as I am.” Cara stood a little prouder, and she crossed her arms. “At first I had hoped that they would obey you because of the bond, but as we know from Aydindril and your noble Home Guard, sometimes when one loves you based solely on their own feelings, and your own good soul, that bond is stronger than any magic.”

She moved and cupped Cara’s cheek, not caring for a moment where they were. “I learned that same lesson from you, Cara. From you.”

The smile the appeared on Cara’s lips was so genuine that it not only made her smile in return, but had her sighing. Her fingertips moved from her soft skin, and she turned, to stand beside Cara. Looking out at the monument to her, and in Kahlan’s heart it was in a way a monument to the two of them. To their love.

He seemed to appear between them and just a foot behind. Kahlan’s body physically reacted to him suddenly appearing, but Cara did not even bother to turn her head. It was as though she expected him to be there, as if he was always there.

Kahlan’s eyes narrowed slightly, as she looked from Darken Rahl, even in this new body that was thinner, taller, with the midnight black hair cut short, and the also short beard on his chin and cheeks. The coloring was different, from skin, eyes, hair, but his presence was as she remembered it. The forward set of his shoulders, the angle of his chin, and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. He was Darken Rahl.

Cara’s face was as unmoving as the stone being carved below them, and there was pride and strength in how she stood. Seeing the two of them, standing near one another, it made Kahlan wonder, how very much these walls knew, and had seen.

The People’s Palace was grander and more beautiful than any place Kahlan had seen or imagined. From the limestone and sandstone, the earthen colored granite to the more unique and exquisite marble that lined the walls, and floors. As Kahlan well knew, splendor could cover decay. Just as the Mord–Sith were beautiful, they were deadly. This Palace was beautiful, the jewel of the New World really, but she could sense the horror and the screams that were beneath the surface. She could feel the thickness of the past tortures in the pools of light on the floor as the sun shone through the colossal windows lining the other side of the hallway. The Confessor’s Palace was light and shadow, the People’s Palace was blood and tears. Both gilded with gold, silver, marble and glass.

“That monument is atrocious.” He sighed. “I still cannot believe you had them tear down my very handsome statue in place of that.”

“She is Queen.” Cara replied.

“No she is not.”

“No? You were dead, she married the Lord Rahl. And well, as I am currently.” She looked poignantly at him, “Lord Rahl and she is my mate…”

“So specific! Fine. Well if I suffer with it, you will suffer more.”

“For now?” Cara asked.

“Longer than that.” He said his eyes growing hard. “You never did get to truly see all of the People’s Palace, the last time you were here.” Darken Rahl said softly as he turned and spoke to Kahlan.

“The dungeons and the torture rooms showed me all I needed to see.” Kahlan said softly.

“No. They did not.” He crossed his arms. “Cara I am sure would agree with me. A training room is as innocuous as a nursery compared to other places here, such as the central market, or even the orchid gardens. When something shows you its true intent on the surface, it is much… safer… than those that hide behind the guise of beauty or piety.” His fingers moved across his beard. “Yes, Mother Confessor, I can read your mind. I knew what you were thinking a moment ago. One of the many benefits to being Lord Rahl.”

“You are not Lord Rahl yet.”

He shrugged. “For a few moments more.”

“You can read minds?” Kahlan asked Cara directly.

“No. He is trying to make you uneasy. To make you,” She turned and glared, smiling maliciously at him, “have doubt.”

“Can you blame me? Honestly? The two of you are rather unnerving, with this whole, epic and eternal love business.” He waved his hand at them, his face puckering. “It is time.”

“What if I am not ready?” Kahlan asked boldly.

“Mother Confessor, there is no more time.” He nodded to Cara. “Tell her.”

Her jaws tightened. “He is right. The headaches…”

She reached out, running her hand down Cara’s arm. “Alright.” She said softly.

“Come, the others are already waiting. I assume your time was well spent.”

“Time with Cara is always well spent.” Kahlan said to him her voice as hard as the image behind them of her coming to life from within the white marble.

“Yes it is.” He chuckled darkly.

* * * * *

Nicci stood; her eyes were surveying the mural painted on the wall before her. It was beautiful, a scene of what she could only assume was the D’Haran countryside, with rich dense forests, before which sprawled a lush green field, accented by the brightness of wildflowers and a group of toe headed children observing an antlered buck. The detail was striking for a painting, and one on the plaster of a wall. There were a dozen similar painted walls in between warm wood panels that were polished so that the light from the various candles and lamps set around gleamed. There were a few prized trophies of animals hunted hanging about the room, but it did not give the massive space the feeling of masculinity, but more a sensation of pride. Of respect for the land that the Lord Rahl oversaw. It was certainly a very different feeling than the one she had expected. She was used to the utilitarian grandeur of the Palace of the Prophets, with sparse hallways. Open spaces this large contained only stained glass panels set high in the walls to capture the setting sunlight. This rich warmth, this display of human luxuries would never be seen in the Old World. Even in the Imperial Palace nothing was this full of warm life. In the Old World there was gold and jewels for the sake of riches. This massive room where they waited seemed appointed as it was to be a showcase of the grandeur of the people of D’Hara, not of the man who ruled them.

She turned, to see the Wizard standing beside the immense fireplace that was flanked by massive, two story walls covered from floor to the coved ceilings with books. The cases were massive and the amount of books was bewildering. Clearly this was not even considered a library, merely a small sampling, a collection of a few hundred thousand favorite books. He held one book open and was flipping through the pages, his eyes smiling. It was an odd vision, the dust covered Wizard, standing in the heart of the Palace ruled by the man who brought his family so much pain and torment of the generations, and he was standing there, smiling.

Nicci slowly walked through the room, her eyes watching the Mord–Sith who stood in various places, though two of them, as well as two of the massive guards stood on either side of the immense gold doors. She felt nothing in this room of magic, which she knew instantly, meant this room was shielded, as was whatever lay beyond those doors.

“Wizard, your expression is troubling.” She said softly as she stepped next to him.

He did not look at her but replied. “Would you prefer if I was pacing and chewing on my lip like my grandson, hands twitching because of the situation and my want to lash out?”

“I would feel a small sliver of comfort perhaps.”

“Well, let Richard be the outward representation of my feelings.” He looked at her from under his brows.

“Agreed.” She crossed her arms. “What is through those doors?”

“The Garden of Life.” He said, closing the book and setting it back on the shelf. “It is probably the most elaborate, extensive and beautiful garden I have ever seen, or imagined. We are at the highest point of the People’s Palace; the Garden of Life is the center. The heart of this place.”

“The root of the power.”

“The heart. The roots I am afraid go deep, branching out here like the vines inside, through the walls, down the multitude of floors that this great palace possess, beneath the ground, and then branching out. The power of the People’s Palace is like nothing that had been attempted elsewhere. Even the Wizard’s Keep, while thick and full of magic, pales to the spells intertwined with this place. Yes, even the Palace of the Prophets cannot compare.”

Richard slowly made his way closer to them.

“I believe I know what Darken Rahl wants. But why Cara? If it is power he needs, then why did he not try to take mine?”

“Your gift, and the quantity and quality of your Han is astounding, Nicci. And your magic is both Addictive and Subtractive, but you do not have that small ingredient that is required.” The Wizard said.

“So, does this have to do with the prophecy you told us about Nicci?” Richard asked. “ ‘With the aid of the dark shall come the light, and all life will be redefined. From death will be borne a revival, the one in white will quench the inferno and will fill a shallow grave.’ “

“I commend you on your recitation, Brother.” Darken Rahl’s voice filled the hall behind them. Nicci turned and watched as he approached, with Cara and Kahlan behind, as well as another group of Mord–Sith. He physically resembled Neville, but all other traces of that wizard were gone. He seemed to glow in the bright crimson robes, embroidered with the gold R’s. “Though, perhaps I should tell you, that isn’t the whole of the prophecy.” His teeth shone as he smiled.

“Not the whole?”

“Well, as Nicci I am sure will tell you, there are times when one feels the need to omit certain… things?”

Nicci did not move, or comment. Darken Rahl seemed to expect this from her. The Wizard on the other hand took a step forward.

“You are a bigger fool than I thought if you think we will help you do anything.”

“Now, now, Zeddicus. We are all going to help each other. That is, after all, how we will win. And how it is foretold in prophecy.”

“We are not tied to prophecy, we are not ruled by some.”–

“Richard. If you please, we are not blessed with the amount of time it will take for you to preach to us about how all men are the makers of their own destiny, how one can be good and just and live their own lives, blah blah blah.” Darken Rahl snapped at him and then sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Cara will die, I will grow old, and well, I am sure one of these Mord–Sith will kill you just to quiet your incessant ramblings. We all understand you are the Seeker of Truth.” He rolled his dark eyes and walked closer to the large golden doors. “Your life is your own, we get it.” His hands reached for the iron rings in the doors, and he pulled them open. Warm natural light spilled into the room, as he turned slowly. “This will be done. It will be done now. It is the only way that we can defeat the menace from the Old World. And yes. I say that because it is foretold in prophecy. ‘The one bonded to the blade will watch helplessly as his actions force the one in white to take sides. The one in white will betray the one in red, forcing her to choose life; and they will fight.’ “

Cara’s voice interrupted him, “ ‘In life there will stand a monument to a ruined age. With the aid of the dark shall come the light, and all life will be redefined. She that grants life, will forfeit her own, to stop the sands of time. From death will be borne a revival, the one in white will quench the inferno and will fill a shallow grave.’ “ She crossed her arms, looking simply bored.

Nicci looked at her calm demeanor with interest. They were all quiet for a moment. Richard’s eyes were downcast, his knuckles white as he gripped the Sword of Truth.

The Wizard’s eyes were narrowed in thought.

“Cara?” The Mother Confessor asked visibly stunned.

“I read that prophecy months ago. Didn’t understand all of it at the time, but I knew, in essence what it meant.”

“Knowing your own destiny is a dangerous thing Cara.” The Wizard said.

“So is standing around doing nothing, which was what all of you seemed to be content doing.”

“Cara… what does it mean… she that grants life, will forfeit her own?” Kahlan asked, reaching for her.

“Ah, out of all the statements, such as those of her own demise, it is that which the Mother Confessor pays the most attention too.”

“And was the part you omitted to me.” Nicci added.

“Yes well. I had my reasons. Cara is the giver of life.” He licked his bottom lip. “In more ways that one. And now she must forfeit her life.”

Part 28

“No!”

“That doesn’t mean she has to die, Mother Confessor.” He turned around and began walking into the Garden, moving away from them. “Life is blood. She just needs to bleed a little.” He called over his shoulder.

Nicci was not so sure that it was so simple. It could be yes, but trust and this man were not synonymous. Nothing he said could be taken at face value.

“Welcome to the Garden of Life. Come on then! Though I am sure you remember it from before.” Darken Rahl said moving further away.

“What is he talking about?” Kahlan asked Cara, who did not reply, but offered her a sad smile instead.

Nicci walked past the two of them, intrigued at the pulse of magic that seemed to move around her like a hesitant dance partner. She could feel the magic, touching her cheek, moving through her hair, exploring her.

Whatever lay within the room, it was alive.

High overhead light fell through leaded windows, giving itself to the lush plants, trees, and vines. The myriad of vibrant colors flourished around the vine covered walls from the flower beds. A walkway that curved naturally away from the doors, disappeared into the small trees before them, and Darken Rahl walked calmly over the crushed stone. It felt as though they had all stepped from the walls of the Palace and into the lush and peaceful world of nature. It did not feel like a garden, it was far too massive. If it were not for the arched ceilings and the windows, Nicci could have sworn they were outside.

“I did have the mess cleaned up of course, after the rabble came tearing through here, tracking filth and leaving litter about the gardens. As you can see Brother it is exactly as it was when you were last here.”

Through the trees, as the temperature rose to the gentleness of a spring day, they all moved, turning between happily growing ferns and trees, to a large green lawn, that seemed to be in a circle in the very center of it all. To the side was a large white stone, atop which sat a large slab of granite. She noticed the odd grooves that seemed to be carved into its surface. It had the feeling, when looking at it that it was an altar of some kind. Though what an altar in the middle of the People’s Palace could be for sent a chill down her spine. She looked beyond the white stone and the green grass, noticing the polished black stone that would have been reflecting light from the fire pit beside it, but there was no fire currently burning. That was until, with a flick of Darken Rahl’s wrist, fire erupted for him.

“I have never been here.” Richard said calmly.

“No?”

“No.”

“Huh. Well, and here I could have sworn that.” Darken Rahl crossed his arms and turned to look at them all. “this was the very place I attempted to open the boxes of Orden, and was unceremoniously interrupted and then killed, by you, Richard.”

“Here?” Richard’s brows furrowed. “That all happened on the cliffs north of here.”

“Really… you don’t say. Well, that may explain the outcome then.” He sighed. “It would have had so much more pizzazz, impact, if it had happened here. Oh well. Not that it matters any more. You remember the Garden of Life, do you not Zeddicus?”

“I do.”

“Zeddicus helped put the finishing touches on some of the finer points of the garden. Such as assisting with the laying of the sand. Which, as many of you know is not sand at all. It is the crushed bones of Wizards.” He said, referring to the round area in the center of the lawn, which was filled with pristinely white sorcerer’s sand. Flames ignited in the torches that surrounded all of the white, and with the flames, the shadows in the sand seemed to come to life, showing a variety of symbols that were etched in it.

Nicci felt the sensation of being watched, and she turned her head slightly. Behind them, what appeared at first glance to be a wall covered in more of the thick vines, with warm flowers, was in fact a set of doors, and someone was peering out at them through a small opening.

“Why are we here? What is the point?” Richard asked.

“Why are you here?” He tapped his lips with his finger. “You know, there is no reason for you to be here. Not really. I only need Cara.” He smiled and stepped closer to her. Kahlan miraculously did not even flinch as he leaned between the two women. “Well all that is required is blood, and for her to willingly provide it.” He reached out and brushed his fingers through her hair. “Will you give me your blood, willingly?”

“That seems too easy.”

He glared at Richard over Cara’s shoulder. “I am sorry, was I speaking to you, Brother? Please, do be quiet.” Darken Rahl glared at him. “Or I may ask you to leave.”

* * * * *

The last time she had been in this garden she had been kneeling in the grass, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of it. She had focused on that scent, and not the smell of blood that had been banging against her senses, or the sobs and pleading of the small child who had been bleeding out on the white stone altar. It had been years ago, but Cara’s mind held a seemingly endless collection of memories, all ripe, hanging from the tree of her subconscious, ready to be plucked and savored when the fever of recollection assaulted her.

She looked at Kahlan, to see her eyes, and felt herself sinking, away from the past of this place, and into the pain of what was to come. Suddenly she wished she had said so much more when they were alone. In Aydindril, in her chamber below. There were so many things she should have told her, explained. That she should have ensured that the Mother Confessor knew and felt the full extent of her love and her pride.

Cara forced herself to swallow down the emotion that seemed to be choking her.

“You knew that there was a prophecy and you did not tell me?”

“I knew.”

Kahlan’s hand gripped hers tightly. “Why? Cara, why did you not tell me?”

“And have you worry, and have you become consumed with it, having it cloud every moment?”

“We could have found a way.”

She looked at her, and felt her eyes soften, seeing the hurt in those eyes, hurt that she had placed there. Cara had found the prophecy when Shota had been busying herself with reading and looking for solutions. It had been an accident, and when she first read it she thought it was a prophecy long since past. But, as events began to unfold she knew. And she felt that there was truth in those words, and that she had to walk forward, she had to not force the hand of fate, but not rally against it either. “I would give everything I am and everything I have to ensure you are safe.”

“You are my everything, Cara. You are all that can keep me safe.”

“And so I shall.”

“Please, don’t do this.” Kahlan asked and the tone and look she gave Cara made her want to sob. To see her looking as though the world was sliding away and she was falling, rapidly moving to the pit of darkness and heartache.

If there was any other way, it would have been found. But there was not.

Using magic, the sword kept at Kahlan’s back was pulled free and flew into Darken Rahl’s hand. “This will do just fine.” He said smiling. “And it is so very, over the top. Wouldn’t you say?” He smirked, and then pulled the blade along the palm of his hand. As blood erupted from the cut he mumbled a few words below his breath and then ran his bleeding palm along the length of the steel, coating it in his blood, and causing the blade to burn as though it were freshly pulled from the smelting fires. He then turned and flicked his hand towards the patch of white sorcerers’ sand, and it hissed as his blood touched it. “There we are.” He turned to them, smiling. “I believe it is your turn, Cara.”

Cara pulled the parchment from where it was between the leather of her corset and her chest, and slapped down the parchment and quill against the white altar stone.

“Sign.”

“No.”

“Sign or I do nothing further. I will die leaving you to wait for another generation to attempt to complete your spell. If you live that long. You may not.”

“You are so very stubborn, Cara.”

“Just sign. We both know you will.”

“Yes. Cara. I will.” He lifted the quill, pressed it into his bleeding palm and then signed his name in a flourish, with all of the loops and jagged lines monarchs loved. Cara shook her head; even in this he was arrogant. “And now you too will sign.”

“Gladly.” She didn’t bother with hesitation; she snatched the quill and stabbed it into the palm of her hand, beside the long scar, her eyes moving to Kahlan as she did. Willing her thoughts to her eyes, hoping in that glance Kahlan knew how much she loved her.

As she quickly signed her name, Nicci moved closer. “Wait, Cara, don’t blindly sign. Blood Oaths are the strongest of–”

“I am not blind. We need him, and we need D’Hara to win this war. I am not an idiot.” She said, her eyes hard as she looked at Nicci, who lifted up the parchment, her icy blue eyes moving over the words. Those eyes seemed to flash an angry white before they looked at Cara. Understanding was in her expression. Cara hoped she was not putting faith in Nicci irresponsibly. Hope. Not something she ever thought she would have. But she did have it now. She hoped Kahlan would understand, she hoped that Nicci would help her. And she hoped her feeble and unintelligent attempts would be worth something, in the end.

“Time is running short Cara.” He handed her the sword.

“It always seems to, doesn’t it?” she replied, taking the sword.

The red leather braded around the handle felt warm in her palm, and it seemed to vibrate, it was almost as if she could hear it, speaking to her, asking her for blood. She closed her eyes, and saw herself running the sword through Darken Rahl’s heart.

She could, she should.

Slowly she forced that thought away.

There were times in life where things were more important than one’s own happiness. There was the greater good, there was ensuring that the ones you loved were protected. She could not condemn the people of the New World to the slow death under the rule of the Imperial Order just to satisfy her fantasy of slaying this evil man, nor running away and hiding with Kahlan.

Cara did not run away.

Cara did not hesitate.

Cara did not look back at Kahlan, not even when she heard the sound of her partially concealed sob.

Her heart became a thunderstorm inside of her chest. Emotions. Feelings, things she thought she was incapable of, things secured behind stone walls, locked away but not destroyed like she had believed, those emotions had been brought back to the for by the woman she was taught to hate, trained to kill, broken to the sounds of how she was to hate and despise all that the Mother Confessor stood for, but she was the one who saved her, who fractured the stone, who slipped through the cracks of the barrier around her heart, fought against the battlements. She had made a deal with death, and gladly. So that Kahlan would live, so their daughter would be born, the life that Cara knew was growing inside of her at this moment. It was all worth it. This and any other torment would be worth it. She would accept it gladly because she was for the first time alive. She was Mord–Sith, she was a woman, she was blood and life and passion and she was love. Emotions. They were alive in her and they would continue to live long after she was gone.

The sword felt as heavy as a hundred men in her hands. She knew that this was not what she wanted to do. Cara felt it deep within her soul that this was a decision that had been made long before she had ever been born. For right or wrong or indifferent, it had fallen upon her to do this. She had to willingly give. That it was her duty. And the weight of that knowledge made the singing sword almost too heavy to wield.

Almost.

Cara pulled the sword’s blade along her left inner arm. Slicing through leather and flesh. She did the same with the other arm. Her blood began to pour down the handle she held with both hands and the blade. As her blood touched the steel, as it came into contact with Darken Rahl’s blood, the blade hissed and began to turn from burning red to the darkest abyss of black. It was not the color black, it became the absence of color, becoming so hard and so dense that it folded in on itself to become nothing. A nothing that pulsed and hissed at her. She stepped into the center of the white sorcerer’s sand, into the center of the Grace that had been drawn there. Cara could feel the vibrations, the power of the spell. The spell that was the People’s Palace, she could see it, and understand it suddenly. As if the Palace itself was alive and had just embraced her, taken her into its arms and whispered to her of all its secrets. The Palace told her of the power spell, as well as the bifurcated web that was waiting for her to ignite it, it murmured of an additional spell, and she knew she was standing at the heart of everything, the very heart of D’Hara, and Cara knew what was needed. It was more than her blood that dripped and hit the sand, which flared and tendrils of black and red smoke were born as the sand fed the spell and it consumed each drop of her life. Just as she had done before, with Kahlan, Cara gathered the power that resided deep inside of her being, she gathered it, and balled it, compacted it, made it stronger, harder, and she focused, she forced it through the shell that was her body, and the power shattered, it filled her blood. Each drop was now no longer merely blood, it shimmered, glistened as it escaped from her, as it slid down the handle, down the blade, onto the sand. It was as if she were bleeding crushed rubies and diamonds. The Palace sighed with her, and it asked for her sacrifice.

“Cara, please don’t!”

She knew that if she did not do this Darken Rahl would be free of his blood oath, and would kill Kahlan. Cara could not allow that to happen, she had to do everything she could to ensure that Kahlan lived.

Silently she vowed, I give my life.

Cara lifted the sword above her head and then slammed it deep into the sand that parted and the walls of the Garden and the whole of the Palace shook, and her blood slipped down the blade and into the hungry mouth of the ground. She felt something pulling her, pulling at the very core of her being. As if her life was draining from her. Cara closed her eyes and she pushed, she shoved, she hoped that the spell choked on her life. She welcomed death, if it meant that Kahlan would live, if it meant there was hope.

If Kahlan was in the world then nothing else mattered.

The hooks pulling her continued, and her eyes flew open, as she felt it in her bones, a very specific change. She felt stronger, not weaker. She felt like the air she was breathing was full of snow. Glaring at the sword she was astonished to see that she was in the center of a vortex of black and red wind, moving around her, and each time the smoke of the wind touched her, her skin felt like it was blistering from the heat, or as if it were freezing to the point of cracking.

She turned her head, hearing her mate cry out her name. And as her eyes settled on her, it felt as though red hot needles were shoved through her eyes, her vision blurred.

“KAHLAN!” Cara screamed, blood boiling in her throat as she did so.

* * * * *

Her eyes read the still wet words on the parchment, and when she saw what Cara had done, Nicci had looked up at her, feeling a sudden and complete respect for the Mord–Sith and what she was willing to do. She was going to give her life so that they would all have the chance they needed to defeat the Imperial Order. And in that moment, as their eyes met Nicci made a promise; Cara’s sacrifice would not be made in vain.

She watched and felt the magic of the spell coming to life; she could almost feel the living magic of this place, as if the stone walls were breathing around them all. Blood turned into smoke and raw pure energy as it poured from Cara’s thundering heart.

Nicci noticed a dark crackling in the sand. It was just the smallest symbol, no bigger than the petal of a rose, written in the white sand. But it was there, and it was glowing a deep and dark green. She felt her lips pull back in a sneer as Cara screamed and fell to her knees. The red and black tendrils of power, of the magic that would stop the movement of time within the walls of the People’s Palace, that would feed off of the bond to the blood line of Lord Rahl and that three thousand year old magic crackled with white lightning and it engulfed Cara, and it reached out and surrounded Darken Rahl. It burned them both, slicing through skin, and as it became part of them both, the leather on Cara’s body, and the robes on Darken Rahl turned the darkest black.

“Her life.” Nicci whispered as her blood ran cold. Her eyes moved back to the glowing green symbol.

Kahlan gasped and took a step forward, and Nicci understood clearly what was about to happen, as Cara turned her head, as the smoke slipped away, inhaled like toxic air into her lungs, as her eyes settled on Kahlan’s face and Cara began to scream.

Nicci stepped between the two women and without a moment’s hesitation used her magic to fling open the vine covered doors, and then slammed magic into the Mother Confessor, knocking her off of her feet, and sending her flying through the open doors into the other room.

Cara’s screaming stopped once the doors slammed shut, Kahlan on the other side.

Nicci spun back around, as Cara fell to her side, panting. The magic of the blood, and the spell swirled around her, pulling the life force from her, taking the bond of Lord Rahl and pulling it stretching it. Nicci could see it, in vapors and mist.

She heard the ringing of the Sword of Truth as it was unsheathed, and the foreboding of death filled the Garden in lieu of Cara’s screams, before Darken Rahl laughed. Nicci looked to see Darken Rahl laughing, his arms crossed and the brunette Mord–Sith standing slighting before him, protecting him.

“Yes. Come, strike out at me with anger, with all the self serving hate you have, Richard. Mistress Garren will gladly take your power as her own, and she will break you. If you thought what you suffered at the hands of Denna was tortuous? Wait until you see what this Mord–Sith is capable of making men do. “

“I do not fear for myself.”

Annoyed Nicci muttered a short incantation under her breathe and pressed her palms together before pulling them apart. And in doing so the spell was released and Richard and the Wizard where gone, as were all of the others.

She could almost hear Richard’s cry of outrage on the other side of the Garden doors.

“A little overdramatic don’t you think, Nicci?” Darken Rahl asked stepping onto the white sand.

“Overdramatic? I will tell you what is overdramatic. You. You knew Cara would look at Kahlan, and with your alteration to the spell and the blood oath, you KNEW one look and Cara would die. You knew, and you wanted it.” Nicci growled moving closer to him, her hands becoming tight fists at her sides.

“Well I don’t need her anymore. So what would it matter? I get what I want, the blood oath is voided, and Cara dies.”

“How could you be so cruel, to have her die in that way?”

“CRUEL?” He rushed toward her. “Cruel? THAT wench, that thing laying there, she is the one who helped the Seeker. Without Cara I would have succeeded in gaining the power of Orden. Because of her I was sent o the Underworld and tormented by the Keeper. There is no time in the Underworld, Nicci. A moment there can be stretched into life times. LIFETIMES I was TORTURED and TORMENTED. That is cruel. Her dying by looking on the woman she loves? Ha! That is nowhere near as cruel as she deserves.”

“You are petty, if you are thinking merely of revenge.”

“OF COURSE I AM THINKING OF REVENGE. Cara took my life from me. I plan to do the same to her!”

“Was all of this just a ploy to get her to activate the bifurcated web?” Nicci asked, standing on the edge of the white sand.

“If I asked nicely do you think Cara would have obliged me?”

“Not right away, no. But in time.”

“Time time time. This is all about time!”

“If you were to prove with your actions you meant what you said about helping to defeat Six and the Imperial Order.”

“Of course I mean that! I will pledge all my resources to destroying that little drawing nuisance and for pushing back the uncivilized horde of the Imperial Order back to the deserts and insanity from which they sprung. But I do not want to wait. The bifurcated web, that particular spell has been one that the Rahls have worked to obtain for centuries. CENTURIES. And now that I have it. She will die. If I cannot have the satisfaction of watching her die the way I had hoped, well then I will just slice her throat!”

“You cannot kill her.” Nicci slapped him. She had wanted to obliterate him, using magic, but she could not. The strength of the spells in the People’s Palace were too strong, too well devised. She could not use magic against him, or even Cara now. They were tied to the spell and tied to this Palace.

“I know. I read the damn blood oath. I cannot directly kill Cara or the Mother Confessor. Directly. But I will do my best to kill them both. Indirectly.”

“That hardly seems fair.”

“There is no fair. There is life and death, pain and pleasure, wins and losses.” He leaned into her. “Join me on the winning side, Nicci.”

“From where I stand? You are very much the loser.”

The doors rattled with the force of magic slamming into them. Apparently the Wizard was now trying to get back inside. Foolish. “Have no fear, my magic, even with you purloining it for your own use, is strong enough to keep Kahlan from coming in here. From touching Cara. So, your plan? It was not successful.”

“No? The power grid of this Palace is now teaming with unrestrained power thanks to you being here, the bifurcated web is active, and, the bond of Lord Rahl? It is returned to me.”

“And the blood oath is binding.”

“So it is.”

“If I were you, I would read the small print there.”

“What’re?”

“You tricked Cara… well Cara tricked you.” Her eyes looked down at the moaning woman on the sand. Nicci did not think she was conscious. “If you kill Cara you die. If you kill the Mother Confessor, you die. Directly or indirectly. So. Perhaps you have some things to think on as well.”

Darken Rahl kicked Cara, and his face flashed with rage, and the faint pain he felt. He wanted Cara dead. That much was clear, and he wanted it all the more now that he could not have it.

“I may not be able to kill Cara, not as I so very much want to at this moment. But I will be able to make her life exceptionally long, and exceptionally brutal.”

“Such a daunting task, as she is a formidable Mord–Sith.”

“I know how to torment my people, Nicci. Cara would thrive under the lash. But she will wither and wish for death when she wakes and knows she will never again see, hear, smell, or touch the Mother Confessor. And each day for the eternity she will live will be worse than the one before it. With that pain.”

Nicci’s shoulders sagged as she turned and walked towards the vine covered doors. “I have known cruelty in my life, and I have known the single–minded determination.” She looked over her shoulder, to see him standing beside Cara’s body. “What’s done is done, and you will reap all the rewards for your actions, Darken Rahl.”

He smiled, but his eyes narrowed as she spoke again.

“Rewards have a way of being what you deserve, not what you desire.”

* * * * *

She was dumbfounded, she had seen Cara standing there, bleeding out, and the magic moving around her, killing her, and yet when she called upon the Con Dar and nothing happened.

Nothing.

She did not know if it was this place, or something more. Kahlan grabbed the remnants of the chair she had slammed into when Nicci’s magic tossed her from the room and she threw it with all of her strength against the wooden doors. They took the impact as if it were nothing. Enraged she began slamming her fists against the door.

A hand touched her shoulder and she turned, her fist raised to attack, but held back seeing Zedd standing behind her. “We have to get back in there!”

“I do not think that is possible.”

“Make it possible! We have to save Cara!”

“She will be fine.”

“How can you say that? I… I couldn’t even protect her. I… my powers, they would not come.”

“Ah, the Con Dar, it will only be summoned in the name of another. And your soul knows that she is not in mortal danger.”

“She is in there bleeding and screaming!” She grabbed the handles of the doors, pulling on them with all her might. The hinges groaned, but the doors did not move.

“Cara is resilient. You know that Kahlan.”

“She is stubborn and she needs me.” She hissed, her eyes glaring at all of them standing behind her, looking as dejected as she was feeling. “DO something!” She demanded.

Shaking his head sadly, she watched as Zedd half heartedly sent a burst of Wizard’s fire into the doors. The moment the fire touched the wood, it dissipated into nothing. “I am sorry.” He offered.

Kahlan, become insane with worry kicked and the doors and moved to slam her fists on the wood, when arms reached around her and lifted her off of the ground, carrying her backwards.

“Put me down, damnit!” She growled.

“No.” Berdine replied and did not stop unit they were a god ten paces away from the doors. “You need to calm down. I cannot allow you to break your hands trying to break through an impenetrable door.”

“Allow me?” She glared at Berdine’s hard set expression.

“She is not dead. Or even dying.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I can feel her, Kahlan.” She said softly, her fingers tapping her Agiel for emphasis.

The air deflated from her lungs.

The doors opened, and she rushed forward. Air as thick and as solid as a stone wall pressed against her, forcing her to take step after step backwards. With each step she grimaced, her teeth gnashing, while her eyes hunted the inside, through the trees and ferns, looking for just a glimpse of Cara. But all she could see was green, and Nicci moving closer.

“You cannot see her.”

“You cannot keep me from her. I don’t care what sort of magic you wield, Nicci.”

Nicci dared to set her hand on Kahlan’s shoulder, and Berdine moved closer, her Agiel free and a hair from Nicci’s side. The blonde did not flinch, or even seemed to register the threat. “Kahlan, Cara cannot see you. If she looks upon you, she will die.”

“What? No. no. That is ridiculous.”

“He… he tricked her. He tricked me.” Nicci clenched her jaws. “He made an addition to the bifurcated web that when combined with the Blood Oath made it binding.”

“That is not possible.” Zedd complained.

“It is very possible. And it is done. If I had been paying more attention, if perhaps if you had Wizard, we could have seen this, and stopped it.”

“Nicci, I am sure whatever Darken Rahl did he did his best to keep it hidden from us.” Zedd offered.

“But what did he do?”

“The… spell. Cara was to give her life to the bifurcated web, her life source would have been the root of the power. He changed it, so that she had to forfeit what she lived for, what in essence is her life.” Nicci’s icy blue eyes searched Kahlan’s face, before she added, “You.”

“Now you are talking in riddles like those other Sisters of the Light.” Berdine growled, not moving away, not lowering her Agiel.

“Am I? The Blood Oath was written specifically so that Lord Rahl may never harm the Mother Confessor or any of her blood line, her children. It also states that to enact this Oath and the Web an offering must be made. To Cara, Kahlan is her life; you are the one thing she holds most precious.”

“Tell me. Tell me what this means.” Kahlan commanded.

“If she looks upon you, she will die. If she touches you, she will die. If she leaves the soil of D’Hara she will die.”

Kahlan wrenched her shoulder from Nicci’s hand. She could feel the rage bubbling from inside of her, a very specific rage. If she could not call forth the Con Dar she had many more weapons to wield. “I will kill him.”

“If you do? Cara will die. She.” Nicci shook her head. “That stubborn woman probably knew he couldn’t be trusted. She wrote into the oath, that they are bound. The both of them. By blood. By the bond of Lord Rahl. They are both in possession of the bond, and it connects them with the Palace. What happens to Darken Rahl, happens to Cara. And vice versa. If he dies, she dies. If she dies, he dies.”

“No… no.” Her hands went to her face. “This is not happening. It is impossible.” It wasn’t. It could not be. It was laughable, that is what this was, Kahlan thought to herself. She had to be dreaming. Right now she was curled around Cara, in their bed in Aydindril and this was all just some ridiculous nightmare and she would wake up at any moment. She would wake and she would tell Cara, who would smile that bewitching smile of hers, and she would tap the end of Kahlan’s nose and tell her that it was just a nightmare. Nightmares could not hurt you. They could not come to pass. This was all just that. Not real, not happening. “No. No.” Kahlan mumbled into her hands, as she covered her eyes. “Not happening. Just a dream.”

“Berdine, I… need your assistance… Cara… is.”

The word hurt echoed unsaid in her mind.

Kahlan’s hands dropped.

Truth clawed at her eyes.

She was standing in this darkly appointed room, held back from running into the Garden of Life, in the heart of the People’s Palace.

This was not a dream.

“No.” Her lungs tried to pull in air but could only moan their denial.

“She is alive Kahlan, she just needs some assistance. I think Berdine would be a welcome sight for her, versus me.”

With an angry grunt Berdine’s eyes looked at Kahlan, her expression unreadable, before she marched past Nicci, through a shimmer of air and into the garden.

“Please. I need to see her. I need to tell her.”

“Kahlan. Do you want her to die, merely because you need to see her?”

“I… I… this could be a trick. You could be helping him. I don’t believe you. I won’t believe you.” Her voice became shrill, and she meant every word.

This could not be happening. Not now, not ever.

Raina’s hand was on her elbow, and she looked into her serious and hauntingly dark brown eyes. They looked at her with a mixture of compassion and command. “Come with me Mother Confessor.”

“No.” She sobbed. “Cara… my Cara. She is in there, she needs me.”

“She does. She needs you to live.”

* * * * *

Darken Rahl was leaning against the white altar, his fingers moving over his beard slowly, as his eyes moved behind closed lids. His clothes were black, and around him clung the stench of sulfur and blood. Cara’s body was laying in the center of the white and red sand. The red was expanding as she continued to bleed from the gashes on her arms. Her back rose and fell slowly, but steadily encased in the black leather, her face looked pained.

“Hello again, Berdine.”

“Kiss the Keeper’s hide, bastard.” She growled moving past him.

“That isn’t very nice.”

She knelt and scooped Cara into her arms. “Crawl off somewhere and rot.”

“It is a little bold. You are mine. There is nothing you can do to change that.”

“My body may be yours, Lord Rahl. But you never had all of me.” Berdine said, turning and hefting Cara’s unconscious weight in her arms.

His dark eyes were different, as was the body, but there was a familiar spark in those eyes. She wanted to shove her thumbs into them and feel them pop. She wanted to pull his thin arms from the body and beat him with them. She would walk through the fires of the Underworld to have but one moment of time to hurt him, truly hurt him, for all he had done in the past. He deserved the eternal torment of the Keeper’s wrath; it would be a just consequence to every infraction against humanity.

Her eyes narrowed. Nicci had said that what happened to Cara happened to him. Knowing Cara as she did, she could almost hear her voice, whispering in her hear to snap her neck. Just for the pleasure of knowing his would snap as well.

“We shall see. There will be time enough.”

“For some reason I do not think you could cause me to break a sweat, let alone my spirit.” Berdine shoved him aside with her arm; boldly touching Lord Rahl without permission was generally an offence that was punishable with permanent death. Perhaps her time spent around the Mother Confessor addled her mind, making her forget or not care about such things.

Gently she set Cara down on the altar.

He laughed, but there was not spark in it, no true joy. “Well, I promise to do my best. Don’t bother to clean her up, just toss her in the dungeon.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Berdine.” His hissed her name and she, unceremoniously slapped him. “You dare.”

“I dare. You may once again be Lord Rahl. But I can feel it. She too is Lord Rahl, and not one of your guards or Mord–Sith will stand by and allow her to be kept in chains.”

His eyes matched his pursed lips. He looked as though he were about to say something, but instead his smile began to return and he turned, walking away towards the doors at the far side of the garden. Softly at first there was a low whistle, a familiar tune. As he walked away it became stronger, richer. He was whistling the lullaby Berdine used to sing to Cara when they were children. It made the hair on the back of her neck rise, and she did, shamefully, feel a slight sweat begin to break out on her skin.

“Don’t fret, Berdine. He will not touch you.”

Her head snapped back and her eyes looked down at Cara, who was looking up at her with blood shot eyes.

“What did you do this time you stupid girl.” Berdine asked.

Cara’s eyes closed for a moment, before they opened and she smiled. “What I thought was right.”

“She is breaking apart inside. You know that.”

“It wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Oh, you had a plan did you?”

“Yes. It was simple. The scales needed to be balanced. He lives, the army fights, the good wins.”

“And you were willing to die?”

Her eyes shown with conviction. “Balance.”

“What they say is generally true….read the fine print.”

“Agreed.” Cara grimaced, sitting up. “Where is she?”

“Raina is with her.” Berdine set her hand on her shoulder. “You cannot see her.”

“Why not?”

Berdine bit the inside of her mouth, hard, wondering how she could explain. She did not understand all the nuances of magic, but she knew enough, she hoped. “Darken Rahl… tricked you.”

“As I assumed he would. Which is why I tricked him.”

“I think his deceit was victorious.”

“Use simple words. Quickly.” Cara said sharply.

“As I understand it, you cannot look at or touch the Mother Confessor. If you do, you will die.”

“Die.” Her voice was a whisper.

“You were willing to freely give your life. And the universe, took it from you. In a way.”

Blinking, Cara looked away, as a strangled sound came from her throat, as her shoulders shook with the strain of not showing emotion. “I made a mistake.” She whispered, and the resigned sadness in her voice tightened fingers around Berdine’s heart and squeezed. Slowly, Cara turned back, tears resting in the bottom of her eyes. “I made a terrible mistake… never see her? Never… touch her?” Her eyelids dropped urging the tears to fall. “Kill me… why didn’t he just kill me?”

“He tried. But, well, he is tied to you now, Cara. If you die, he dies.”

“Berdine… I… I….”

The sadness seemed to fill her own eyes with tears, and she could feel it. She could also feel the sadness in her own heart. If she were to suddenly be standing alone in a world where even just a look at Raina would bring her death? To live, but not to know the wonder of her love? It seemed unfathomable in its cruelty. And she knew there was not one thing she could offer Cara that would ease the pain in her heart.

“I hate you.” Berdine said softly, running her fingers through Cara’s hair.

“I know.” Cara smiled softly, looking at her, understanding. They had always seemed to have that understanding, through all that they had seen, and experienced, side by side as Sisters of the Agiel. To Berdine Cara was her sister, and she would gladly do whatever she could, to help her. As if reading her mind, Cara’s eyes sparkled, and the sadness in her expression slipped away, sliding down the paths in her mind. Berdine stood a little straighter as she felt the sharp jab in her midsection, as if Cara had poked her with a blunt stick. “You will leave. As soon as you walk out that door. You must leave the People’s Palace. Do you understand? I am ordering you, to leave this place and never come back. You must protect Kahlan, and not allow her to come into these walls. Ever.”

“I will.”

“Did you know… we will have a daughter?” Cara laughed, as the last of her tears rolled down her face.

“Cari.” Berdine moved to hug her, but Cara’s hand held her back.

“No. None of that… you… you will protect her, Berdine. You will protect Kahlan and you will protect my daughter. Do you understand?”

“Yes Mistress.” She vowed. She vowed to her Mistress, she vowed to her Lord Rahl, and she vowed to her Sister of the Agiel.

“Take… take this to her.” Cara said quietly, as she pulled one of her now black Agiel from her thigh. She looked at it for a moment, before she sighed, and handed it to Berdine. It screamed in her palm and the pain was unlike any she knew. And her experience with the weapon was vast. This Agiel expressed a pain that was rooted in something much deeper and stronger than any she had held. Her eyes jumped to Cara’s as she understood, this Agiel had been the weapon to break Kahlan. And that had been used to break Cara as well. “It is… hers… give it to her. And watch over her. And… and hold her just once for me?”

“You will see her again.” Berdine said, her gloved hand squeezing Cara’s shoulder.

“Of that I am completely certain.”

* * * * *

Muscle memory flared at the sight of the bed, with red linens still tousled, were only a short time ago she had been writhing in ecstasy against Cara, surrounded by her, with her. Where they had bled together, broken together. Her body reacted with wanting and her heart shattered. The reality of circumstance fell upon her, as if all of the People’s Palace crashed down.

She could not touch Cara. She could not see Cara.

“nonononononononono. NO!” She screamed, her hands beating her thighs. “No!” She glared at the empty bed one last time before she moved briskly across the room and grabbed her pack. As she tipped it over, dumping its contents on the floor she glared up at Raina, who had been silently standing just inside the door.

“I will not sit back and allow this to happen.”

Raina’s dark eyes did not flinch.

“Blood will spill and screams will rise, and I will make this right.”

Kahlan ripped the leather dress from her body, not caring when she heard the tearing of thread, nor even giving it a thought that the door to this room was wide open. She tossed her dress into the corner and reached for her white gown.

“He will not win. He will not gloat. We will march out of here, making sure each and every person sees me, knows exactly who I am.”

“Our Queen.” Raina said calmly.

“Your Queen, and the Mother Confessor. The enemy of this land. The one who the Rahl family has battled and denounced for centuries. Well, the people will all know that I am their Queen and they will remind him each and every day. Until I can have my vengeance. Until I make this right. Until I make the walls of D’Hara weep. Until Cara is back beside me.”

The familiar fury inside of her soul began to wake.

Finished dressing she turned back to the bed and her eyes caught sight of all the contents that she had dumped from her pack. One item in particular caught her attention, and she reached for Cara’s pack. She rummaged inside and prayed to the Creator. She prayed with all she had, and then whispered her appreciation once her fingers touched the familiar leather.

Kahlan turned to Raina, whose dark eyes were now twinkling. Either with joy or with unshed tears she could not be certain. Perhaps a mixture of both.

“Can you swear to me, that she will come here? Swear to me that Cara will come to this room before anyone else?”

“We both can swear Mother Confessor. These are her private chambers.” Berdine’s voice said as she entered the room.

Kahlan watched as she tossed something to her. Instinctively her hand went out and she caught it. The burning touch of the Agiel made her close her eyes and grind her teeth, savoring it. The pain was a familiar comfort, and she knew, she could feel as the pain moved through her arm, and wrapped itself around her soul that this pain and she would become companions. Her eyes looked down at the worn black leather, the delicate markings in the skin that protected the living and destructive sensations. Cara. Her Cara. Inside of the ache she could hear Cara’s screams, her moans, as well as hearing her own.

“She is on her way here now.”

Kahlan’s eyes opened, terrified. Part of her wanted to run to Cara and to hold her, thinking that their love would be strong enough to combat the magic. She was also terrified that she may just do that, that her passion would rule her reason in this instance and if it did she would selfishly end Cara’s life for a heat beat of comfort.

“Thank you.” Kahlan swallowed down the fear, and sat down heavily on the bed, the journey book on her lap. She set the Agiel beside her thigh, wanting to feel it close, but not close enough that it distracted her.

Closing her eyes, her frantic mind searched for something to say, something that would make sense. Opening the leather cover, she pulled the small razor like quill from the spine, and after a swift cut to her wrist, after dipping the tip to her blood she wrote,

I will not accept this; I will not let you go. I will not allow this to be the end. We will be and can be…. I will find a way, or I will make one. I love you, Cara.

She lifted the wet page to her mouth and pressed her lips beside her words. A faint whisper of what she truly wanted, what she needed. She swallowed hard, before she set the book aside. She pulled a dagger from her left boot.

“Kahlan?” Berdine said stepping forward, and Kahlan’s glare forced the Mord–Sith’s feet to lock to the ground. Her eyes were frantic.

Kahlan grabbed a violent fist full of her hair, and ran the dagger’s blade through, severing it. Each strand of hair screamed. The pain she felt was her truth, it soaked her skin, it screamed in protest. Kahlan dropped the hair between the pages of the book, feeling her body swaying, thankful she was sitting; she would have fallen if she had not been. As she closed the leather cover of the book, her mind screamed that this would not be the end. That she would find a way.

* * * * *

The thick oak and iron doors at the end of the hall splinted, from both her intent that the Palace felt, as well as her rage, and Cara marched through the storm of debris. Kahlan’s words rang in her ears, so that she heard nothing else.

“I will find a way, or I will make one.”

She felt nothing but the self hate and the bile of contempt that kept bubbling up into her mouth. She walked along this balcony which was at the very highest peak of all the People’s Palace. This balcony, where one could see all of the People’s Palace below, and the surrounding land, was a place reserved for the Lord Rahl alone. Well no longer.

She stopped at the thick sand stone railing, and her bleeding palm pressed down, holding herself steady. Her eyes moved lower and she saw them, making their way down the road that hugged the structured walls. Six riders. But one, one held her focus; one became crystal clear in her vision. She burned in white, her dark hair moving in the twilight breeze, seeming to glow. Her back was all Cara could see, and it was all she needed to see.

One last look.

This one would be it.

This vision would haunt her, would be burned into her mind, come to her nightmares and tease her dreams.

Kahlan, in her white gown, strong, was riding away. Leaving the horrors behind and moving into the promise of what tomorrow would bring.

She would never see her again, never touch her again. Cara had no one to fault but herself. She had made the greatest mistake, she had thought herself wise, she had thought she knew more than she did. She had made the mistake of pride. Cara now would take her punishment. She would live, without end. Without aging, she would live and she would suffer.

The tears that moved down her face as she stared, as she absorbed the last look of her mate, burned her skin and the thick smell of blood danced around her as the winds caressed her hair.

She did not care.

Nor did she care that the pain radiating from the back of her skull was growing, or that the vision of Kahlan was blurring, or that the Palace was screaming through her blood to stop, to look away.

“Cara, while I respect your conviction to flagellation, I would rather not spend eternity blind. And I dare say, you would not want that either.” Darken Rahl said from behind her, sounding out of breath.

“If I lose my sight so that I can see her one last time, then so be it.”

“Cara… if you want pain, I can give you pain.”

The vision of her love, her life, her mate, moved around the corner of the wall, obscured. She had acquired the bitter event of that last look.

She turned her head sharply to see him, blood tripping form his eyes, the same as it was hers, and she sneered. “There is no amount of pain you or anyone could give me that would compare to the pain I already feel.”

“Happy to hear it.”

“One day, I will kill you.”

“Then you will die.”

“Oh, I don’t fear death.” She walked past him, slamming her shoulder into his. “Can you say the same?”

Part 29

The People’s Palace became a faintly defined shadow in the twilight behind her. Through the haze of the smoke, from the numerous fires burning inside the ring of the large army encampment she turned and looked. What had appeared to her to be a triumphant and glorious monument to what man was capable of creating now looked like a demon borne from the Underworld. Sitting hunched atop the desolate plains where nothing seemed to grow, because that structure was alive and it sucked life from everything surrounding and touching it. In the distance the light burning in windows to numerous to count, it was real and it was alive, those lights were the monster’s eyes.

And in its belly, consumed and kept was her love. Kahlan cleared her throat to stop herself from saying Cara’s name. As they raced from the dusty walls she had been convinced that she felt Cara’s eyes on her back. She had felt her, and almost heard her familiar voice whispering in her ear that she loved her.

An arm slipped around her waist, and she looked at Richard. His jaw was set, his eyes soft with compassion. Her anger wanted to punch him, to eradicate the compassion. Her sadness wanted to collapse into the kind embrace she knew he would offer.

Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor, did neither.

Gently she moved away from his touch, giving him a look of warning thanks, before she turned and marched towards the center of the camp, where she knew the General’s would be waiting. She wanted to focus on something other than Cara. Knowing it was not that she did not care, but rather she cared so much she would become lost in her emotions, she would drown. Kahlan knew she should hold tightly to some sort of anchor, for the time being. She needed to feel like she was doing something, could do something.

The familiar face of Captain Ryan approached, with his every present shadow, Hally at his side. A thorn dug into her chest, watching Hally’s eyes moving around all of them standing there, looking for the one who was missing. Kahlan assumed that Berdine or Raina made a gesture of some sort from behind her because Hally’s eyes went wide before the emotion slipped from them and she stood perfectly at attention.

How many times would Kahlan have to watch another’s emotion flair and fade because Cara was not there? Would it always hurt?

She hoped it would.

She wanted it to.

She needed it to.

It would keep her angry.

She walked briskly into the fray of soldiers, both Midland and D’Hara borne. “Captain Ryan?” She asked as he fell into step beside her.

“Yes, Mother Confessor?”

“I need a sword.”

Instantly he pulled his from its scabbard. “Have mine.” He pulled handed it to her.

“I will honor and accept it. Thank you.” She looked at its strong blade. It was very similar to her sword, the one that was now somewhere inside of the People’s Palace, stained with blood. Clenching her jaws she made a silent vow that she would one day have that sword back in her hands.

“It is battle tested and hungers for blood. As do all the blades of the Midlands. We stand ready to heed your call, to follow you to the ends of the New World and beyond.”

“Good.” She looked up at him, as they still walked. Men that they passed all rose, all saluted her with their hands to their hearts. At any other time she would have been moved to see such respect. “We will be branching off from the D’Haran Army in the morning.”

“As you command, my Queen.” He said with only the slightest confusion.

“You are now in command of my army, General Ryan.”

“Mother Confessor? I am just a Captain of the Home Guard.”

She stopped and turned to stand in front of him, her eyes burning. “Just? Just?” She slapped her open palm over his heart. “You are as great as you believe you are. As great as she thinks you are.” Her eyes flicked to Hally. “Be great General Ryan.”

“Ye…yes Mother Confessor.” He replied and with a nod she spun around and began walking briskly.

Murmurs from the men they past, the hiss of wet stones sharpening blades, and a multitude of other sounds filled her ears, and Kahlan pulled the reality of it all around her, forcing away the chill. All of these men will die, she thought, and refused to look at their faces as she walked. Tomorrow she would look each and every one of them in the eye, she would memorize their image, she would remember it and set it on the pile of fuel. Their sacrifice would have meaning. It did not matter that they were D’Haran, Westland, or Midlanders. They were all people of the New World, and their light and their determination would turn back the dark clouds that were encroaching on their way of life.

“Kahlan,” A voice softly spoken as Zedd came beside her. “What are we doing?”

“We? We are going to go to war Zedd. First we will find the Generals, and we will find out what has happened in the days we have all been… been… preoccupied.”

“With good reason.”

“I meant what I said before. Cara is my world. She is worth my attention… I…” Kahlan looked up at his kind eyes. “There has to be something we can do.”

His words seemed hesitant. “Do you have any idea on how to break the bond, to get Cara back?”

Kahlan boldly gazed up at him. “I have a plan.”

“Would you mind sharing it with me?”

“It is simple.” Her eyes moved from Zedd, to Richard, then settled on Nicci before returned to Zedd. “One of you will find a way to break the spell, or I will kill Darken Rahl, and we will give Cara the breath of life.” She nodded to Berdine who thankfully kept all expression from her face, she stood arms crossed, eyes forward.

“That is simple.” Richard tried to smile.

“Kahlan, it is too simple. I am quite confident that it will not work.”

“Oh? And how do you know this?”

“Because when something is simple it never works, or worse, it backfires disastrously.”

“Please First Wizard, tell me then what you propose we do? Because doing nothing is not an option.”

“Well… there is one thing, but it is very dangerous.”

“What Zedd? I am sure we are willing to try anything, so that we can get Cara back.” Richard pressed.

He answered them all calmly and slowly, “There is the Spell of Undoing.”

Instantly, without warning, Zedd was knocked to the ground, and pulled along the sandy ground by magic for four paces before he was lifted up and found his throat in Nicci’s hand. Kahlan watched transfixed, beyond shocked at the sudden exhibit of her power. The blonde’s eyes burned white and her lips pulled back into thin lines.

“You will not even think of such a spell. You will not utter its name or even dream about conjuring it. That is not an option. I will skin you myself, if you do. I dare say I should do it this instant for you even uttering such vile idiocy.” Nicci growled at him.

“But.”

“First Wizard Indeed. There are means to ends, and then there is ignorant destruction.”

“Nicci put him down.” Richard ordered.

“I think she has every right to skin him if she wants to.” Kahlan said, watching intently.

“Kahlan?” Richard looked shocked, but no one else moved. Not the soldiers around them, and certainly not Berdine or Raina.

“I am very well versed in the history of the Midlands, having been raised and having my studies at the Wizard’s Keep, as a child.” Kahlan’s eyes burned. She knew exactly what the Spell of Undoing was and how it was one of the most idiotic and dangerous of all spells. To undo one thing was to unravel the entire tapestry of life. Once you plucked one string, one moment from existence, every other thing that followed or was touched by those who experienced that moment were forever changed. The possibilities and the consequences were infinite. It was a spell of last resort because its affect was catastrophic. For Zedd to even consider it enough to mention it made her respect for him waver, and her anger intensify. “Is that understood Zeddicus?”

“It was merely a thought. A thought I will never again have.” He promised.

Nicci’s eyes, still white with her power looked to Kahlan who nodded. They had an understanding, these two women. If magic were to be involved in solving their problems it would not be done without the consideration of everything. It was like tossing out the baby with the bathwater, like using a sword to butter a slice of bread.

“We will find a way. A dependable and logical way. Right now? We need to turn around and show the Imperial Order that we are not going to lie down and let them trample over us.”

“I agree.”

“Perhaps you all think me mad, because I am now taking up arms against this threat. Which is what you were all telling me I should do. That I should have done this and not gone after Cara. But I want.” She looked to see Zedd, now free of Nicci, brushing his robes off was looking at her, as well as Nicci and Richard, and the others all waiting for her to speak. “You need to understand. She is the center of my world. That has not changed. That will not change. Come what may, I will lift up the sword of my destiny. I will defend the defenseless. We all will. Darken Rahl has not won, the Order has not won, neither have all of you. My body will be entrenched in duty, in responsibility, while my heart and soul will be focused only on her, and finding a way back to her.” Her voice was weak, and she knew it. Not weak from lack of conviction and passion, no it was weak with despondency, with this heavy weight of denial and the bubbling anger. Kahlan shook her head and turned around, leaving them to whatever they may be thinking of her. Let them think. She could care less.

Faintly in the distance a bell could be heard, and all around her the sounds of armor, of chain mail rubbing together as men moved as one. Kahlan looked around them, and was astonished to see all of the men and some women around all moving to their knees, setting their palms on the ground, their forehead following.

“What?”

“Your command still stands, Mother Confessor. Devotion is given twice daily. Now that we are so close to the People’s Palace, we hear the call. And everyone gives devotion.” Newly appointed General Ryan said.

“Of…of course.” She said, stunned. She nodded to the others, and moved quickly to her knees. Before she lowered her head she looked through the thicken gloom at the People’s Palace, to see the way it glowed and watched her. Her hatred for Darken Rahl moved through her veins as she set her head to the ground. But as the words came from her mouth, as she heard them spoken by the thousands of people around her, the hate faded. In her mind she saw only Cara. Cara kneeling before her, her eyes brilliantly pure and honest as she looked up. As Kahlan spoke, her memory gave her the image of her mate reciting the devotion. And she spoke it with her. She let her absolute love and commitment flow through her body.

“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

* * * * *

“Go away.” Cara’s voice dripped with unexpressed rage.

“Mistress, please, allow us to assist you.”

She looked over her shoulder to see Garren standing with four other Mord–Sith behind her. Cara vaguely recognized them, but did not know them. As she was sure they did not know her. Part of her felt a hint of the possible calm that came when she was surrounded by other Sisters of the Agiel. But she was not the same Cara she once was, when she roamed these halls. Calm would not be found amid these women.

“Do you know magic? Do you know how to undo what I did?”

“I am sorry Mistress Cara, but Lord Rahl is the magic against the magic. We are merely.”

“Steel against steel.” Cara turned back to the courtyard, and the men working, now using massive lanterns to light their work area, as they chiseled and chipped away at marble. Bringing Kahlan to life. At least she would have this. She could have this. As a constant reminder. “Yes. I know.”

“Please, Lady”–

“No. Mistress Cara. That is the only name I will be called.”

“Yes, Mistress, as you command.” Garren’s voice was closer now. “You… you should not be seen walking around the People’s Palace, dressed like this.”

Cara looked down, her now jet black leathers torn, blood drying and visible. She had almost forgotten. It was like her appearance was nonexistent to her as of late. All she had known was that she had to find Kahlan. And then see her. See her riding away, and now, see her proud expression looking back at her, even if it was only a representation.

“At least I’m not naked.” Cara sighed.

“The baths are always ready for you.”

“That’s nice.” She did not bother to hide her annoyance.

“What can we do?”

“Cara will not want you to do anything. For a while.” Darken Rahl said sadly.

“My Lord.” Garren bowed reverently to him, but Cara watched as he waved her off.

“Yes yes.” He stood beside her, and yawned. “Long day?”

“Go to the Underworld.” The tension in her body, taught muscles encasing the bleeding and bruised heart, was becoming so intense that she was convinced that it would translate into a visible symptom. Cara willed herself not to, her mind demanded it of her body, and her heart pleaded with her muscles and bones, to not let him see how truly miserable she felt.

“So soon? I just left. Mistress Cara is in a bad mood it seems. I am sure in a few days she will be back to her old self. Whipping the skin off of naughty soldiers, and if you are lucky she will teach you a thing or two. Why the things this woman can do with an Agiel.”

She looked back at the blank faced Mord–Sith. “There is something you can do.”

“Anything Mistress.”

“Have the tailor commission for me new leathers.”

“Already begun.”

“I want them to be black.”

“Black?”

“Black?” Darken Rahl echoed.

Cara smiled softly. “Yes. Black. I like how it is slimming.” She snapped and then stepped closer to the edge of the walk way. They had etched out Kahlan’s face, and would start on the intricate details soon. Her eyebrows. Even her eyelashes.

It would be a thing of beauty when complete. To be appreciated and she hoped understood. It was a statue, cut from the cold stone, with hard work, and perseverance. It was on the surface a thing of splendor and wonder, and it was also so much more. The stance, the way her dress would appear to move, how her eyes looked, the expression of her brows, and the position of her hands. When you looked deeper, you could see an entirely new level of meaning. Of hope. Of beauty.

“I wish you would allow me to remove that.”

“Never. And you must keep your end of the bargain.”

“I will… though Cara you will not like the outcome.”

“The outcome?” She looked at him, “She is alive. That is the only outcome that matters to me.”

“So you say.”

She stood, hands clasped before her, the winds barely moving. She listened as the bells rung throughout the palace. The workers put down their chisels, their brushes and moved out of the courtyard. All those who lived inside these walls kneeled in various courtyards and vestibules or in their private rooms if they were ill, and with head to the floor they would recite the devotions for two candle marks, continually. This was done once in the morning, once in the evening. The Mord–Sith behind them walked away. Cara had done it countless times when she lived here, chanting the devotion, feeling the words moving through her, around her. Now she felt them even more. As the people gave their words, and their vow, that fed the bond, making it stronger, and the Palace itself sighed and embraced the lyrical chanting, held it gently, before taking it inside concentrating the power and filtering it through Cara, and Darken Rahl. She could feel it. A humming filled the evening air, and Cara closed her eyes, feeling it in her bones. Her exhaustion seemed to lesson, the pain in her muscles recede. The throbbing of her headache slipped away like sand. All that she was left with was the ache in her heart.

She allowed herself to feel the ache in her heart, to absorb the humming quiet.

The chimes sounded, softly, gently, rolling throughout the entire Palace. The evening devotions were ending. Sighing she opened her eyes to the large courtyard, which was empty save her, and him. She felt disoriented. What she thought had been a second, just a moment, had been much longer. The moon high in the sky was illuminating the face etched in marble that was looking into the distance.

Out of the corner of her eye, on the far side of the courtyard she watched as a group of young ladies and a boy were strolling beneath the arched walkway. They should not be there, not so soon after the call to devotions. It struck her as odd, when she had lived within these walls, devotions were not an option. You went and gave devotions or you were swinging from chains. This was just one instance, one small group, but she wondered, as there had been no Lord Rahl in residence for months, if things had become more relaxed. Which Cara knew was not good.

“You have a problem.” She said seriously.

“With you being alive, I have more than one.”

She turned to regard him, his waiflike body which contained the energy and spinning wheels of a massive mind. In time she wondered if this shell he wore would change, would become more like the body she watched catch fire and burn. “Not all of your subjects were at devotion.”

“Our subjects, Lady Cara.” He teased.

“I have never been a Lady. Let us not start now with that idiocy.” She crossed her black leather arms. “Not attending devotion is a problem.”

“They will all soon learn that rules and protocol are to be followed. Granted things became lax here after my untimely, and might I again mention, rude, murder. Besides, I have had my mind on other things.”

“What could be more important that your everlasting life, Lord Rahl? You clawed your way back into the world of the living, are you going to be so very short sighted and have it end so soon.”

“Don’t play with me, Cara.” He stepped closer to her, his eyes turning hard. “What are you getting at?”

“Six and her Dream Walker sent wave after wave of the converted into Aydindril. To slaughter and to maim. I know you are an evil tyrant; perhaps I am giving you too much credit, too much appreciation for your role as Lord Rahl. You are to protect the people, are you not?”

“Let the witch have her fun. Aydindril is nothing compared to the People’s Palace. It is not fortified, it is not protected. A fraction of my army was able to conquer it.”

“It is not the army you need worry about when the rats can slip through the bars.” Cara said.

“Cara, it is not important. Not yet.”

“It is.”

“Why do you care?”

“Care? I gave my life to give you life, and what for?”

“I was curious about that myself.”

“I did it so you.” She stepped right up to him, glaring into his dark eyes. “Would unleash the might of D’Hara on them. So you would fight.”

“You could have led the D’Haran Army, Cara. You and the Mother Confessor.”

She growled low.

“One does wonder. Why on earth you would sacrifice so much?”

She did not respond immediately. Instead she became aware of how deeply she was breathing, how her chest rose and fall, as if she had just run a vast distance. “It was more than just the prophecy. If that is what you were thinking.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You, as much as I despise you, and make no mistake, I do. You have magic. There are very few left who do. I… thought you would fight, to protect your people. After all, it is the people that give you strength.”

He seemed to consider her words. “Hmm. You have a point. We will fight, Cara. You are right, I will protect my people. “

“Let me take a battalion to the front lines and fight.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Let the Midlander’s be the fodder for now. Then we will come in with the iron fist of D’Hara and send those mongrels back home, tail between their legs. The Mother Confessor and Seeker have fifty thousand of my men, under General Reibisch’s command. When they have lost an equal number of lives, then maybe we can move forward.”

“Damnit, we need to act and act now.”

“Cara, really. Just because the love of your life is willing to throw her people onto the pikes of the enemy swiftly does not mean we need to swoop in and rescue her. We will fight, when the time comes.”

“Arrogance, I have found out recently, has very large teeth.”

“Why do you all keep trying to teach me ridiculous life lessons? I am the Lord Rahl, I don’t need to be schooled by the likes of you.”

“Fine. Consider yourself dismissed.” Cara sighed, and walked away.

“Wait.”

His voice called out, and inexplicably she stopped. Though for her own sense of self, Cara did not turn around.

“What am I going to do with you?”

He asked from over her shoulder. Those words, said in that way, with his voice took her catapulting into the past. Months after she completed her training. Standing in line, inside of his private chambers. He was younger then, they all were. He walked up and down the row of them, that year Mord–Sith. And he said those words, before stopping before Cara, looking at her. Her eyes had fallen to the smooth stone floor, so what he looked at she never knew. But then he moved on. She had felt shame then, at not being singled out by Lord Rahl. Now she felt shame again hearing those words. She felt shame because she had made a mistake. She was still alive. As was he. She was locked in a cage, and had willingly stepped inside and handed him the keys.

“Should I have you placed in chains in the dungeon? Hung from the ceiling in the training rooms? Sent to the barracks to service the soldiers?”

There was no point in turning around, in commenting. There was nothing she could say, because she did not care. She could stand and take everything and anything. It would not matter. Cara felt as though she were no longer whole. Just a shell.

“We could whip you, until you are at the edge of death. Over and over. For eternity really. That is how much time we have together Cara.”

She would welcome it. Each lash, each strike. They would fall on her skin like rain drops. They would touch and move across her flesh and leave her just as she had been before. It would not matter.

“Or I could leave you to your own devices.”

Cara closed her eyes.

“You did this. You broke her heart. If I have learned anything over the years about how powerful love can be between two people, it is how it can be twisted and abused, how it can burn and crack your conscious. I think that to make you wallow in your love, why that punishment will be so much more damaging that any touch from me.”

She tried to breathe evenly.

“Pity you did not die today. I guarantee in time you will wish for death. You will beg me for it. But Cara? You will never die. You will live forever. Just as you are at this moment. Alone.”

* * * * *

Kahlan sat in the corner of the tent, listening to the latest reports, all of the things that had gone on in the days since she had left the army, her mind had drifted. It had left the canvas walls, and while she had been trying to focus on the reports being given she could only wonder what Cara was doing. Hours. That was all the time that had past. Short hours. If her heart hurt this much in such a short span of time she did not know how she would make it through the night, through weeks that would come barreling towards her. Moments completely filled, each and every moment, where there would be little to no time for her to find a way to break the spell, or the blood oath that was a chain around Cara’s throat.

Her right hand lay on her lap, and she noticed that she was flexing and relaxing it, over and over. She opened her hand, and with her finger she traced back and forth the scar on her palm. Blood Oaths. They were binding. The most powerful of oaths. Because blood was life. Blood carried the life force through one’s body, it was the essence of them. No wonder the allure of blood was so strong; from wanting to feel it pulsing in the veins beneath your own skin, to seeing it pouring from your enemy. It was basic and it was primal. To see blood was to see life. She had given her own blood to Cara, bonded with her in such a way that she was sure that she felt her mate, could feel the churning of her emotions. If only she were more gifted. If she knew more of magic so that she would just know how to unlock the chains, to free Cara. But, knowing she was not, knowing that there was no relief in her own mind, she did all she felt she could do. She traced the scar on her hand, and she thought of Cara. She closed her eyes for just a moment, to envision her eyes, her warm smile.

There was a sudden intake of breath, a gasp, and her eyes opened. She thought for a moment that the sound had come from her, but looking she saw blood red leather. The Mord–Sith seemed to pour into the tent, and Kahlan did not move, she did not bother. She had expected them. Knowing Cara as she did, Kahlan had been fairly certain that more troops and Mord–Sith had followed her out of the People’s Palace. Cara would provide her all she could to ensure Kahlan’s safety. Kahlan also knew, without anyone needing to tell her that for now she could trust the D’Haran army, and trust that Darken Rahl would put everything at his disposal forth to battle Six and the Imperial Order. He knew what could happen if they were to gain a hold in the New World. The slaughter of innocence did not matter, what matter and what would drive him to keep his word was magic. That those people did not believe in it, nor did they have any use for it. They wanted it to be wiped from existence. They would destroy all magical creatures, they would hunt and kill all those with the gift, they would ensure that magic died.

And if magic died so would Lord Rahl.

So would they all.

There would be nothing for him to rule, nothing to possess. That was what she could believe in. His conviction, his drive for self preservation. He had given his soul once merely to obtain more power. He would do so again.

The twelve women fanned out inside of the tent, along the back walls. Berdine moved closer to her side, she noticed, and General Reibisch’s eyebrow rose with interest.

“General. We were sent to assist you and Queen Kahlan.” A very tall and slim blonde Mord–Sith said lightly.

“General Reibisch, please continue.” Kahlan said gently, her eyes boring holes into the Mord–Sith. She seemed familiar. Not in that she had seen her in Aydindril, but she had seen her on the opposing side of the battle field.

Her eyes moved over those within the tent, the Mord–Sith she knew, and those she did not, ringing the room. The Commanders and Generals. The Seeker, the Sorceress and the Wizard. They were all here, all united against the common enemy.

For now.

“Why bother fighting this war?” Nicci asked without preamble.

Kahlan blinked, for a moment not sure she had heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”

“Why fight? Hundreds of thousands will die. People you care for and those who you do not know but who look to you for guidance and support. And you are set, focused to bring them into a battle that they cannot win.”

“You are so convinced of that?”

“I know the Imperial Order. I know their size. They will come like the locust. Like the plagues in the city slums, running through entire families indiscriminately. You cannot merely stop them, for the Order is more than an army following the command of their leader. The Order is an idea. A thought. That is attainable and that flourishes in the minds of man. You cannot defeat an idea with sheer might alone.” Nicci said calmly. Kahlan regarded her. This woman who had been their enemy, but who stood beside them. Not necessarily with them, no one of them, and yet no longer just an enemy.

“We are fighting for peace.”

“You fight? For Peace? How is that logical to you, Kahlan?”

“What would you have me do? Bow down before the Order, walk up to Six and her Dream Walker and kneel. Give myself to her?”

Nicci replied. “It would save lives.”

“And how many would be lost, if I did that? If I surrendered to her?”

Nicci shrugged.

“I surrender my life to no one. Because my life? It is mine!”

“Yet you surrendered to your enemy.”

“Nicci.” She ran her hands over her face. “I surrender my love and my devotion to Cara, a Mord–Sith. And yes, for her? I will gladly give my life. But that is far different than surrendering to a tyrant who would only use me, who would take my freedom and make of me a weapon.”

“So, to surrender for love is just. To surrender for life, is not.”

“Something like that.” Kahlan sighed. She felt so very tired suddenly, and as if nothing would ever make sense again. Perhaps it never would. If anyone would have asked her a year previous if she had expected to be sitting in a tent, on the Azrith Plain before the People’s Palace, in a tent with a dozen Mord–Sith, D’Haran Generals and Commanders, Royal Home Guards, Galean Calvery riders, the Seeker of Truth, the First Wizard and a Sister of the Dark she would have thought them insane. As it was she felt herself becoming slightly unbalanced herself. This was not the life she ever thought she would live, and yet, it was for moments like this she was raised, taught. To lead with the deadly blade of compassion. Even in this room, with all of the faces looking at her, she felt completely alone. Her hand flexed, reaching to touch Cara’s arm, as she always seemed to, for comfort, for strength. Seeing that the space beside her was empty she swallowed once, before her mind cleared, and her chin lifted. “We did not ask for this war. We did not decide to invade the Old World. All that we have ever wanted is to be granted the freedom to live as we wish, to love as we wish, to thrive based on our character, our dedication and desire. Here there is magic, and there is beauty. There is a symbiotic relationship between man, magic and nature. Without that delicate balance magic will die out, and then nature will follow closely after. And then. Then man will die. I fight for that. I declared war on the Imperial Order for the simple truth that we must protect those who cannot protect themselves. We must allow life to be lived.”

Nicci looked at her for a moment, and everyone was silent. Waiting. Slowly Nicci nodded. “That? That is worth fighting for.” She said softly. “I will do all I can to help you Mother Confessor.”

“Thank you Nicci.” Kahlan smiled half heartedly. “Battles may be won or lost, but I am certain that the war? That we cannot win by intent alone. Richard, do you think that you can rally the people of Westland, to join with us?”

“My brother Michael, while corrupt, did have many backers. So perhaps the name Cypher will resonate with some of the people there.”

“Do not discount the power of being the Seeker, Richard. They look to you, as do many of the villagers throughout the Midlands.”

Richard looked uncomfortable.

“Why would you not want to ask the people of Westland to join us in our cause, Richard?” Kahlan asked attempting to keep her tone delicate.

“It is not that I do not want to ask them to lay down their lives for a battle against evil. The concern is that to the people of Westland, taking up arms in the name of the Mother Confessor or Lord Rahl will not be something they will do.”

General Reibisch made a snapping sound, and one of his men handed him a slip of paper. “He is right I believe, my Queen. We received a report that there is a groundswell, a movement in agreement with the ideology of the Imperial Order making its way through Westland. A small group of men, calling themselves The Brotherhood have been traveling between villages in Westland, telling citizens that the Imperial Order believes that all men are equal in the eyes of the Creator.”

“Well they are.” Richard affirmed.

Nicci spoke up. “Thinking like that could spread like wildfire in Westland, because that is how those people believe. But do you not see how that could pose a problem to the Midlands, even D’Hara? Yes, we all know that each person is unique and having the gift of living life in a manner they see fit. Yet, when you denounce the rule of law.”

“Westlanders are not denouncing law and justice, they are denying the idea that they should bow before one supreme leader. They do not want a Mother Confessor to tell them what is right, nor do they believe one man, Lord Rahl, is the only voice to be heard.”

Kahlan shook her head sadly. “You are missing the point.”

“Am I? Or are you so blind by your own teachings that you do not see that a democratic society, where all people are equal, where they determine who is their voice, is more ideal.”

“You talk as if corruption is assured when you have one leader.”

Richard’s face was beginning to show his frustration. “Isn’t it?”

“Do you mean me? Or your brother?” Kahlan asked.

“Kahlan, don’t take this personally, but I see the point the Imperial Order is trying to make. While I do not agree with their methods, I do believe that everyone is equal. And so do the majority of people living in Westland. Probably those in the Midlands as well.”

“Richard, if every man and woman are equal, if each and every person is the same in the eyes of the Creator and a society? What do you do when there is a disagreement?” Nicci asked, walking through the tent slowly, as if moving was helping her to keep her voice level and calm. “Let us say you are a farmer, your neighbor is a farmer. There is one stream running between your lands. Your neighbor decides to dam the stream, to irrigate his crops. Yours wither and die. What do you do? Who do you go to with your grievance?”

Richard crossed his arms. “I would talk to him.”

“That will do no good; he has a need for this water. You may as well, but by the Creator’s doing the water came to his land first. Would you then think that this was as the Creator wanted it and find another profession?”

Richard’s lips pursed together.

“If you were back in Westland Richard, what would you do when faced with this situation?” Zedd asked.

“Well… I would see the magistrate and ask them to intervene.”

“Ah. Who is the magistrate?” Nicci asked.

“A decision maker, someone who can enforce the rule of law.”

“Why would your neighbor listen to a decision made by this person?”

“Because the magistrate is…. The…” Richard paused, either due to frustration or confusion.

“If you, your neighbor and the magistrate are all equal, why should they listen? How could any one of you be granted more power than another?”

“The people elect the magistrate.”

“I see. And why would they elect that one person? Why not you?”

“The magistrate would have petitioned others, shown them that he could be an affective arbitrator.”

Nicci walked around Richard now, peppering him with questions. Kahlan looked to see Berdine cross her arms and smile watching. So did some of the other D’Harans. Zedd looked calm, as though he was proud of the way Richard was thinking and answering.

“How was this done? How could the people know?” Nicci asked.

“He would speak to them, show them.”

“He would elevate himself above others, so that the people would elect him.” Nicci said.

“Yes.”

“And so he is no longer equal, but above you. Able to make decisions that affect your life.” Nicci tilted her head slightly regarding Richard. “So… in your utopian world where everyone is equal, you should say everyone but those who have been elevated.”

“That isn’t what I mean.”

“If all are equal, why do you carry the Sword of Truth? Why cannot that man there,” She pointed to one of the soldiers who blanched and looked away. “Come to you and demand you give it to him.”

“I have a destiny, I was chosen.”

“You are above him.”

“Yes.”

“You were born to be the Seeker.”

“Yes.”

“Just as Kahlan was born to be the Mother Confessor, just as your brother was born to be Lord Rahl.”

“Yes.”

“To say all men are equal is a wonderful idea, and it could be a goal to live up to. But in every society, human or animal there is a leader. An Alpha. One that is tasked with the burden of making decisions, of providing safety and comfort to all of the others. That is where the ideology of the Order fails. The people believe that they are equal, that no one can have more or less than another. It is an absolute. There are no magistrates in the Old World. There are committees, there are guilds. There are councils. There are groups who then rely on groups who then rely on another group. It breeds even more corruption, and at the center of it all are those who want power. Who control, quietly. The center of the Imperial Order is the Brotherhood, and inside the Brotherhood are those vying for control.” Nicci said her voice picking up the bite of aggravation. She knew the Imperial Order having grown up inside of it’s society, and then watching it for the hundred years she was a Sister of the Light. “Here in the New World you know who is your protector, your sovereign. There is no room for one to usurp or form a revolution. It is.” She turned to look at Kahlan. “Here there is one person, that all people can look to for protection and guidance. One. Who carries the weight and the responsibility of every living creature on their shoulders. One who has to think about each farmers needs, and come up with a fair and just solution. It is in the knowledge, the order of your sovereign that all are truly equal. They are all truly equal in the eyes of their one true leader.” Nicci set her hand on Richard’s arm. “So, which is truly better?”

“I… yes, I see how you could point to Kahlan, as Mother Confessor and see all of the good that can come. But look to Lord Rahl, all of the Lord Rahls, and see how they are the opposite. How under their thumb the people have suffered.”

There was a cough, and Kahlan noticed it was General Reibisch, whose face was turning a deep red. She knew that man had no love for Darken Rahl, but she doubted Richard’s claim. She expected the General to speak, and was somewhat shocked when she heard a voice beside her.

“Perhaps the Seeker of Truth would like to speak to some of the men here in with the D’Haran Army.” Hally said stepping forward. “If you do so they will tell you that they are completely devoted to their Lord Rahl. They will tell you that they killed and destroyed the lives of many people in the Midlands at the command of their Lord Rahl.” Her eyes moved to General Ryan. Kahlan knew how much they both cared for one another, but she also knew that General Ryan was still very hurt by the past. “They will also tell you that their families here in D’Hara? They are safe. They were protected from the threat of marauders or attackers, from any land, using any means. They will tell you that in D’Hara there is no debilitating poverty. That everyone who is able has the right to work. Be it in the People’s Palace, or on the farms in the far east. In D’Hara we sacrifice the tiniest fraction of our selves so that we can live as we see fit. We can love, we can thrive. And we know that we are protected from the evil intents and the magic of others. We devote ourselves to our Lord because, three thousand years ago Alric Rahl loved his home land, and the people of D’Hara so much he created the magic of the bond. Not to control us, not to rule us, but to keep us safe from the Dream Walkers and the magic from the Old World. I was taken, yes. My family was killed to make me what I am today. I do not weep for their death. I celebrate it. Because in their death I became Mord–Sith, and I have the honor of serving and protecting the Lord Rahl. I will serve, and they will ensure there is law, justice, and protection for all people. Seeker, D’Harans are a proud people. We love our country. And we love our Lord Rahl. They are not all evil. Not every Rahl in history has been as Darken Rahl has been. You… I thought you would know that. As you yourself are of Rahl blood.”

Kahlan held her tongue and her breath. That was more than she had ever heard Hally say at any given time, and she also knew the weight of what she said. Kahlan’s eyes had moved to General Ryan, who looked at his hands, his brows furrowed as Hally’s voice was thick with the pride of her homeland. That there was still pride there. She had hoped that in time the stubborn General Bradley Ryan could see beyond Hally’s heritage, to see her. But Kahlan was beginning to think that would not be possible. She had never forgotten what Cara was, and the things that she had done. That she had slaughtered hundreds of people, if not thousands, that by Cara’s hand Kahlan’s sister had been killed. Kahlan would never forget, but she was capable of forgiveness. To see beyond the past, and the thorned shadows around her mate, to see the ever present glow of her soul. Hally looked at General Ryan, who did not meet her look, and her blue eyes turned sad, but only for a moment. She stood tall and proud, and moved away from the large General to stand beside Raina. If those women were not Mord–Sith, Kahlan was sure that Raina would embrace her. As it was, the small brunette gave her a scathing glare, and Hally stood straighter.

“Richard, we do understand. I do not want you to think, because you are the only one here who was not raised with a sovereign to think we do not. I personally understand your desire for a free society. There is beauty in it, there is a peace and a calm. I am merely pointing out that you must see the entirety of the image you desire. There is good and bad in all things. This is no different.” Kahlan offered, she looked to Nicci who nodded her acceptance at what Kahlan said. “What I asked still remains. Do you think that you can rally those people of Westland to fight with us against the Imperial Order?”

“Some. I think I may be able to get some. The militias, perhaps some of the rogue separatists who are living in the boundary mountains.” He set his hand on the handle of his sword. “I will try to understand all of this more. Perhaps Nicci, you and I could talk later?”

“Of course Richard.” She said, nodding to him, but moving a little further away. Kahlan noticed the way his eyes moved over her as she moved, and part of her sighed in relief. It was a step, for him, and possibly one in the right direction.

“Well we can make more plans when we meet later tomorrow night, I assume you will travel west with us Richard?”

“Of course Kahlan.”

“I am glad.” She smiled. “What else is there General Reibisch?”

“As of yesterday we have determined that every red fruit is once again poisonous.” General Reibisch handed Zedd the letter he was reading from. “We have confirmed, this was not done by Lord Rahl. Which leads us to believe that Six has been casting more spells as she moves into the Midlands. From our reports, which are spotty at best I am afraid, there are numerous caverns and caves along the route she is traveling.”

“This was the test, I am sure. To see how far her magic could reach. Is it affecting those fruits here in D’Hara?”

“Fifteen men died today alone, before we determined the cause.” General Ryan confirmed.

“Once she learns her spell worked, she will increase them. Who’s to say the next spell won’t be to make all meat toxic?” Richard asked.

“We need Wizards. We need people with the gift who can at least understand the magic of artistry, and then we need them to scour the land from the Old World to here, looking for these caves, and changing the spells.” Nicci said from where she stood beside the large post in the corner of the room.

“An undertaking like that is massive! I doubt”– General Reibisch began.

“Doubt? We cannot doubt. We cannot second guess. This may be one of the only things that can stop her onslaught. We can fight with steel. But we need to fight magic too.”

“Which is why Mistress Cara sent us.” The apparent leader of this Mord–Sith who arrived and ringed the room said taking a step forward and addressing Kahlan.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at her blank expression and her white blonde hair. Kahlan thought that if she glared at the Mord–Sith she would not wince outwardly at the mention of Cara’s name.

“We have been instructed to assist you, Mother Confessor. Mord–Sith and Wizard’s are those best equipped to hunt out and remove all of the spells drawn by this Six. Even when we strike her down, and we will, those spells will still be in place. They must be altered or removed.” The blonde Mord–Sith said evenly.

Nicci stepped between Kahlan’s line of vision. “The Palace of the Prophets is probably under the control of the Imperial Order, and if I were her I would have slaughtered all of the Wizards, and the Sisters. Those she is not controlling. But, it may be worth the risk, to send someone to the south. To see if that is the truth. If they have managed to fight back and stay independent. It’s highly unlikely, but.” Nicci shrugged.

“We can’t assume the worst. Perhaps she is not as smart as we are giving her credit for. We need to push the army back to the south, and at the same time, we will send someone to the Palace of the Prophets to find Wizards.” Kahlan said, turning away from the glare of the Mord–Sith.

“Nicci could go.” Zedd offered up for her.

“I am better used here.”

“Then who?”

“I think that you should go Wizard.” Nicci said smiling.

“Me? But I hate those infuriating Sisters.”

“It makes the most sense.” Kahlan agreed.

“No it doesn’t.”

Kahlan looked at him, seeing him arguing for the sake of arguing. Still a little miffed she assumed about Nicci’s very clear demonstration of her power earlier. “Really, Zedd, it is a three day ride from here. You can be there and back before you know it. Plus, you can use your magic to not only protect yourself but to detect any traps Six may have set.”

“Well, when you say it like that it makes more sense.”

“I thought it might.” Kahlan tried to smile. “Our army will divide in the morning, and we will be heading west, to the crossing of the Kern.”

“Back the way we came Mother Confessor?”

“Yes. I am sorry, so soon you arrived and we are turning back around. For some reason the Imperial Order is moving into the Midlands before D’Hara.” She rose from the chair, and Berdine materialized beside her. “Thank you Generals, Commanders. We can meet once more in the morning, until then, please devise methods for our two armies to communicate back and forth.”

Fists found chests, as all the men in the room wearing uniforms saluted her.

She was tired, and just wanted a moment or two to breathe, and to check and see if Cara had written to her yet.

As she stepped out of the tent, the Mord–Sith lead by the leggy blonde followed. They did not surround her as she had expected. But instead stood before her, in a tight formation.

“Mother Confessor.” The Mord–Sith, said with her face a perfect representation of apathy. Behind her the impressive contingency of Mord–Sith, each one beautiful and deadly, with their bodies stiff with attention. Kahlan stood before them, feeling their hate and their eyes moving over her flowing white dress. She wanted to feel their hate, wanted to bath in it and pull strength from it. Her life, before she left on her quest to find the Seeker, before she focused herself on defeating Darken Rahl, when she thought she was fighting for the freedom of her people she knew looks like this. She received them from the D’Haran quads who hunted her. She felt them from her very own people. She had temporarily forgotten the strength that could be found when someone looks at you with blind hate. In that blindness they disregarded your true strength. Seeing the loving looks from Cara made her blissfully ignorant to the hate that flourished in the world, directed at her because she was the one thing that could destroy another. She could shatter a soul with a touch. These women, these warriors, they knew what she was. They were trained and created to destroy the Confessors.

“What is it?” She asked, prepared to reach for her daggers. She had left her Agiel in her pack.

“Mistress Garren sends you her regards, and wants you to know that we, the Mord–Sith, understand the conflicted nature of your arrangement with Lord Rahl and Mistress Cara.”

Kahlan laughed. “Arrangement? There is no arrangement. He tricked her. Do you understand? She is one of you. He tricked her, and still you will follow him.”

“You know that we do not have much of a choice.”

Kahlan snorted. She was well aware of that. “What else does this Mistress Garren have to say?”

“She would like you to know that she will be Mistress Cara’s personal guard, and will see to her every need.”

Kahlan stepped forward, not intimidated by this woman. “That is quite enough of that. Garren can come to me and do this posturing herself. Let her know that. I do not have time for these games. Nor do any of you. Most, if not all of you, will die. Soon.”

A faint smile appeared on the Mord–Sith’s lips.

“You hate me.” Kahlan said calmly. “And I respect that. I need that.”

She pulled the Mord–Sith’s Agiel from her hip, and smiled at the burning pain. Not as intense as it would have been if this were her Agiel. Her Agiel that should be resting on Cara’s thigh, not in the bottom of her travel pack. Thinking of Cara while feeling the familiar pain was what it took to awaken the Mord–Sith inside of her completely. She howled and stretched and very much wanted to lash out.

“It is true, you are a Sister of the Agiel, Kahlan Amnell. We are connected to you, in the hate and the blood and the pain.” The Mord–Sith smirked.

With the Agiel in her fist she backhanded her, hard. She took a step back but did not fall. Instead of retaliating, her eyes burned with hate, and her lips pulled into a smile of respect.

“Sisters we are. In pain and blood. And hate. I want you to hate me. I want you to hate everything I am and I represent. And I want you to take that hate, and tighten your fist around it, and I want you to visit that hate upon the Imperial Order. On every man, woman and child you come across. I want you to destroy them. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly Mistress Kahlan.”

“Go. Find every instance of artistry and remove it. Destroy it. Kill everyone you see. Do your worst. Grant no quarter.” She shoved the woman’s Agiel at her chest, and she took it swiftly before the weapon could touch the skin over her heart, with her small smile still on her lips she nodded, and then turned. The others behind her moved to follow.

Kahlan crossed her arms.

“You could have offered your comradery as a Sister.” Berdine said from over Kahlan’s shoulder. “They would have done your bidding then.”

“I know.” She turned and looked up at Berdine. “But I am sending them to their death.”

“And they happily march towards it.”

“Don’t you see? That they cannot march happily? That they cannot have that comfort? If they for a moment think or feel, then they may hesitate. Just as I have hesitated. And now I am suffering through the consequences.”

“Kahlan, hope is not a weakness.”

“Are you so sure?” She snapped and walked away from all of them, not certain where she was going, but needing to allow the rage inside of her to simmer for a moment, to calm.

Part 30

The iron bar dropped easily across the door, and she turned to stand, looking down at the tousled bed. It hurt to see it, to look at it. The small lantern filled the room with light and shadow, tormenting her with the vision of the linens on the bed, the journey book still laying open, holding Kahlan’s words and the thick bunch of her hair. Cara closed the book, sighing, knowing that Kahlan had felt immense pain when she cut her hair, but she did it anyway. Cara read Kahlan’s hastily words again. And then once more. She felt like there were so many things she should say, but putting all that she was feeling and thinking into mere words seemed impossible. Still she pricked her finger, and watched as a few drops of her blood fell onto the blank page. If she could not find the words, could not give them to Kahlan, perhaps just letting her know that she was there would be enough. It didn’t feel like enough, but Cara did not know what else she could do, and the more she considered it the angrier she became.

The book fell to the floor.

In this windowless room, the darkness could hide from her eyes the stark reality. The thoughts, memories. They could be fought more easily in the dark, and she blew out the flame of the lantern.

Her ruined leather fell from her body, and the darkness did not judge the cuts or the bruises on her skin. It did not sooth the pain of them either. Cara slipped between sheets, and her heart betrayed her, her fingers did its bidding, as they reached out through the nothing, gripping familiar green and brown leather. Pulling it to her, beside her in the bed. She pressed her face into Kahlan’s discarded traveling leathers. Agony made the cuts on her arms throb and reopen. Her blood wept, along with her eyes, as she inhaled the scent of Kahlan’s skin that clung to the leather. Shut away from a reality that was too bizarre to comprehend, Cara heard Kahlan’s heart beat, felt love moving around her, a phantom, as it filled the dress in her arms. Love embraced her, love chased away the reality and Cara sobbed, “Kahlan, I am sorry.”

Tears fell from her eyes, her heart thundered in its reinforced cage, and she let herself go, let herself fall into the abyss of desperate sadness, alone but not.

Her love kept watch over her.

* * * * *

Halfway to the center of camp a small little weasel of a man ran up to her, his arms full of rolled maps, and a bunch of letters tied sloppily. He had stopped, panting, attempting to catch his breath as he looked up at her. His eyes moving higher and higher, until, when he saw the expression on Berdine’s face he jumped back slightly. She decided to ask what he wanted, before kicking him out of her way, when he began speaking rapidly about needing someone to read letters and mark maps, someone who could read the languages of the Midlands. Berdine heard the words, “Great Wizard Zedd” and “do this for the Mother Confessor.” Before she ripped the papers from his hold and shooed him away with a growl.

Berdine was in no mood for small talk, and even less in the mood to sit in a tent brooding over all that had transpired during the day. It would eat a fist sized hole in her guts, the worry and the concern. She knew it. Having something to do, especially with Raina having run off to speak with the Mord–Sith, was a blessing really.

Since finding their tent she had quickly laid things out on the table, and had been reviewing the letters that had arrived that morning for the Mother Confessor, and making notations on the large map. Adding those locations where the Imperial Order had either been seen or had attacked. There were more and more red X’s appearing on the main map.

They seemed to curve inland, from the Old World, barely skirting the edge of D’Hara before turning in along the coast line of the Midlands and then moving sharply inland.

From the map the ocean loomed, sitting there an open gateway into the New World.

The old Barrier had extended into the sea, to the affect that at times a small boat would be able to pass through, but not a large fleet, certainly not a massive contingency. The Imperial Order had been content to move within the Old World, not venturing out further than where the land held them. That was what Nicci had told her, as they leaned over pieces of parchment, creating maps of the Old World. The sheer size of it all made Berdine’s head spin with the complications, the possibilities.

Possibilities and outcomes. She could sit and make lists of moments that may come to pass, merely based on the idea that was forming in her mind, the idea of what it was they were truly up against. There seemed to be a long stretch of road before them, and it was twisted and undulated with so many unanswered questions, that there were times she found herself unable to think. Her mind would spin so very quickly with so much information that it felt like her brain shut off, and all she knew was that the uncertainty was making her crave what she did know. Something to hold on to.

Berdine set her chin in her hand, her eyes blurring slightly as she read through one of the letters, trying to pay attention, but this letter, like many of the others addressed to the Mother Confessor were filled with an entire sheet of praise and empty pontifications. It made her head hurt at the amount of nonsense she was reading through. She wanted to reach a hand across the leagues and slap some sense into these people, to demand that they give her the facts and stop with the nonsense. Perhaps her mood was merely sour because she was feeling the Mother Confessor’s mood. Either she was angry, or she was fighting back tears. It was a constant deluge of intense emotions. None of them happy ones.

Arms wound around her neck, and she leaned into Raina’s touch with a sigh. She only then realized that it was much colder than it had been, and the noise from the camp outside of the tent had dissipated. Night had managed to fall without her realizing it.

“I spoke with them. I do not know if they can be trusted, but they are going to journey south with the Wizard. I believe they will do as asked. Look for spells in caves.”

“If that were our only concern.” She set the letter in her hand down, and then her palms flat on the table as Raina’s lips set on her cheek gently. She closed her eyes, allowing the feeling of warmth to move from those lips, through her body to her heart. A light and comforting touch that was painfully calming.

“I feel guilty.”

“Why? No. Don’t bother telling me. I know why.” Raina kissed her cheek again and then moved around her, Berdine looked up at her warm hued eyes, the very soft smile on her lips, the way her leather seemed to shine and move as her second skin. Raina took her breath away more often than not. When her face was stubbornly set, as it became then, it made her heart’s rhythm change, and her chest tighten. Berdine blinked as Raina sat purposefully on her lap. “Cara told me to kick you, hard, if you started acting like this.”

Berdine knew her face turned hard as she explained. “There are these guilt needles piercing my heart when I think that I can touch you like this, I can see you, I can touch you, I can smell and taste you, and … they can’t.”

“Everybody wants someone to love, Berdine. Not everyone gets the chance.” Raina pulled her gloves from her long fingers. “Their time? It is not over, it is just… interrupted.” She set her gloves atop the table behind her casually. The corners of her eyes crinkled as a slight grimace moved over her face. “You do remember those two years.”

“I don’t want to.” Berdine swallowed, remembering that time very well. She remembered everything. Just as they had found a calm and peace with one another Raina was sent to the north, to assist in training in the northern temple, and then to patrol the mountain ranges in the far north east. Those two years, while Berdine remained at the People’s Palace, as she worked beside Lord Rahl throughout the day, and was made to bend to his every will at night were quite possibly two of the longest years of her life. Because she knew something she had never known before. She knew of something that she thought not possible. She knew peace and love, before it was wrenched from her grasp. It made her curse Raina and curse herself, if she had never known that side of reality she would not have missed it. But she did. And the guilt grew, knowing that Cara and Kahlan were now about to feel the same pain.

“But you do?”

Berdine sighed. “I do.”

“And in those two years did your affection waver?”

“Never.” She sighed, allowing for a moment her mind to take her back, to being so young, and so tormented, watching Raina ride away with the battalion, not knowing if she would ever return. It had been a very long two years. “I missed you then. Do you know that?”

“Of course I do.” Raina pressed their foreheads together gently. “I knew from the moment I saw you, that somehow, though you were completely new to me, I felt as though I missed you. And that.” Her eyes blinked slightly, her voice moved into a whisper. “I would love you.”

“No you didn’t.” Berdine offered a half smile.

“I did.” Raina said firmly, as her hands moved to the golden buckle holding her leather collar in place. Then she undid the ties, and let the thick red leather fall to the floor. Her brown eyes were darkening, either from memories or from something else.

Berdine’s hands rested on Raina’s hips as she argued. “I was being broken the first time you saw me, I was hanging from the chains, bleeding and sobbing.”

“And you looked at me, defiantly.” Raina confirmed, as her fingers danced across Berdine’s cheek down her neck. “You looked up with your big beautiful eyes and you looked right through me.” She pulled the buckle, freeing the collar at Berdine’s throat. As it fell to the floor, a small sound came from her chest as Raina’s tender touch moved over her naked throat.

“Was that why you never participated in my training?”

Practiced hands undid the corset around Berdine’s waist.

“Yes.”

“Tell me why?”

Raina’s matching corset was removed and dropped to the ground.

“There was just something that seemed different with you. That I could not… do those things to you.”

“It is what we are made to do. How could you have not?”

“Does it matter?” Raina’s hands reached and pulled her long braid, her fingers moving to undo it.

“Everything you do matters to me.”

Her fingers moving through Berdine’s hair, loosening it, and then she began massaging her scalp.

“Denna would tease me. Mercilessly. Asking why I would not take my turn at whipping you.”

“What was your excuse?” Berdine whispered as her eyes closed, her body sighing into the tender touch of her lover’s fingers in her hair. She had always wondered how Raina had managed to not be the one to train her. To break her. Of course, that all came later. Much later.

“I didn’t need one. I told her my interest was more on Hania, as she was not only obstinate, but as she was my direct opposite. Tall, thin, white blonde hair, crystal green eyes, alabaster skin.”

In the spark of her touch, a small fire was lit deep inside of her, and it was fueled by the jealousy that Berdine’s memories still held, in that gloomy corner of her mind. “You always seemed to favor her. I thought.”

“I am sure you did.” There was a smile to the sound of Raina’s voice.

“When they would attached the collars to our necks, and hoist us up around the room to watch the breaking, when I watched how your hands moved over her skin, how you managed to make her moan and scream at the same time using your hands, the Agiel.” Berdine swallowed, and then opened her eyes, finding fiery brown watching her intently. “I was so very jealous.”

“Jealous? Of her pain?”

“Of her skin.” Her hand moved slowly up Raina’s side with her words, over her breasts, to cup her throat, her thumb caressing the soft skin along her jaw.” Of knowing your touch.”

“I could always feel your eyes on me.” Raina’s eyes closed slowly as her tongue moved across her bottom lip. “There are times when I dream, I remember those days, every time I would look up, you would be staring at me.”

Leaning closer she spoke softly, before her mouth pressed against the vein throbbing in Raina’s neck. “I wanted to be in her place. I wanted to feel your… rage.”

“Berdine.” Raina moaned softly, her hands gripping at the back of her head, pulling their mouths together. Her spine began to burn with the rapid sensations that were traveling down it, and into all the other parts of her body, as she felt ardent lips on hers, and as she tasted the deep and complex flavor of Raina’s mouth. When teeth nipped at her bottom lip her body trembled, and she sighed with the need she was feeling as well as the sadness that still thickened and slowed the passion in her blood. With her sigh the supple mouth moved from hers.

She set her forehead to Raina’s lips as her eyes looked down at the ground, and she confessed. “I am surprised I ever made it through training.”

“You are strong. You are Mord–Sith.” Raina affirmed.

“Barely.”

“Berdine. You are all that you need to be. All that you are.”

“Cara reminds me that I am too soft.”

“You are not soft.”

Her blue eyes looked into brown. “I am soft for you.”

“Mm.” Raina agreed, her finger tip moved over Berdine’s furrowed brow, down the length of her nose, to lightly move across her lips. “You can be hard too, when you need to be. When I ask you to be.”

“Are we weak? Because… because we…”

“Because we love?”

“Yes.”

“Our love is not weak. It is not kind. We break, and we bleed. In life and in love. We all can be only who we are, no more, no less. Mord–Sith.” The tone of Raina’s voice, how it thickened with arousal when she said the words break and bleed commanded Berdine’s mind to consume her with the sensations of moments past, and the hope for moments in the future.

Berdine swallowed. “I remember the first… time…when…I bled for you.”

“Berdine.” Her hand moved across her cheek.

“Do you… remember?”

“I do. I remember everything.” She closed her eyes for a moment, as she spoke. “I was reprimanding that commander, and you were there in the room to observe.” She shifted, wrapping her legs around Berdine’s hips, and her arms around her neck.

“You sent the others away.” Berdine’s hands began moving over her back, slowly. “It was just us in the room. I was watching you. Transfixed by the way you moved.”

“As I whipped him into froth, all the while”–

“Looking at me.”

“You were standing there, perfectly glorious in your red leather, your eyes locked on mine.”

“He did not seem to exist.”

“Only the blood and the movement of my arm.”

“Mm… I do remember. I remember locking the doors, and I remember the taste of your lips that day, the sweat on your skin.”

“My legs around your waist, like this.”

“Your back against the stone wall.”

“My hands on your skin. The bite of my Agiel as it tasted your pain for the first time.”

“Raina.” She groaned, as her lover pressed her center against her. The feeling of her body, the heat of her words, the thrill of the memory all ignited inside of Berdine, and she wrapped her arms around her, pulling their mouths together aggressively, feeling Raina responding in kind. It rolled into Berdine like a wave, and she felt the glory that came when their passions collided, in the taste of her mouth, the texture of her tongue. Her chest barely contained her thundering heart and she stood, easily carrying Raina as her hands moved through her hair, as their tongues rolled together. She sat on their small bed, and leaned back, allowing her small lover to have complete control.

Raina’s teeth pressed her to bottom lip and she pulled it, and their eyes meet. As she let go, Raina’s eyes burned with the command. Berdine knew her own eyes responded. Yes. She would gladly surrender. Growling Raina’s hands moved to loosen leather, to reach and touch naked skin, as her hips bucked against Berdine, whose own hands moved between their bodies. The smell of warming leather, and the creak as it rubbed together was gloriously arousing, as was the nipping of teeth along her neck.

The low cry of the Agiel was almost over powered by the sound of Berdine’s moan, as Raina’s teeth pressed into her, as Berdine’s hand flexed between their bodies, her palm pressing up into Raina’s center. The lips on hers moved away, and her eyes flickered open, to see the hungry dark eyes looking back at her.

“You want to feel my rage, you want pain.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me why? Is it,” Her center pressed down against Berdine’s hand. “because of your guilt, for what you feel,” her hips began thrusting against her. “for them? That you want to be punished? For having me?” Raina’s fingers tightened on the handle of her Agiel, and Berdine’s eyes went wider.

“Yes. And more.” She whimpered, wanting, needing Raina to take her.

Teeth nipped at her bottom lip, pulling on it hungrily. “More?”

“I need you to break me. To eradicate all thought, all existence. To…to use your pain to heal what…what.”

“What happened at the temple?”

“Yes.” Berdine groaned. She knew, without ever being told that Raina had suffered more severely at the hands of the Mord–Sith and that slimy wizard in the temple. Berdine was assured of it, knowing Darken Rahl as well as she did, that he had made sure Raina was treated mercilessly. She also knew her lover. She knew that Raina was not a woman that you would coddle, and pamper to repair damage. She was strong and resilient, and for Raina sometimes the most powerful healing balm was to allow her to be in complete and utter control. To regain the knowledge that she was strong, capable. Berdine needed to surrender to her lover to know that she was still wanted, while Raina needed to conquer to know that she was capable of surrendering later. They were well matched, and Berdine’s own need, pulsing in her blood coupled and joined with the desire to allow Raina to rebuild.

Raina’s tongue moved slowly along her own bottom lip, before her voice huskily asked. “Are you mine?”

“Yes. I am your Mistress. Completely. Please. Oh please. Take me Mistress.” Berdine begged, knowing the sound of her voice would propel Raina into the frenzy. Her back arched and she bit her lip to smoother her cry as she felt the pain of the Agiel teasing against her nipple. “Take everything.”

Raina moved the Agiel and the pain forced away all the latent thoughts of armies and war from Berdine’s mind. All there could be was Raina. Her body, the way she writhed against her hand, her lips parted, her eyes darkening, the pain radiated from inside of her, through her Agiel as it claimed Berdine’s skin, as Raina’s love claimed her soul.

* * * * *

Desperation clawed up her throat.

She had been walking from the command tent, towards where she knew Raina and Berdine were waiting for her. She had sent them ahead, not thinking. Forgetting, caught in the circles of her own mind, thinking that Cara was beside her, because she willed it to be so.

But she was alone.

“About time you returned, Mother Confessor.” Prince Harold said as he came through the rank and file, his smile sparkling. Kahlan blinked. She had not expected to see him; she had nearly forgotten he was still alive. Her skin crawled seeing his face, the smile on his lips, as it snapped her mind to attention. “We arrived days ago, and have been waiting for you to return from your excursion. There is word from Queen Cyrilla. The Imperial Order has swarmed and is moving swiftly through the Callisdrin Valley.”

“Then we will give them an appropriate greeting.” Her eyes narrowed, suddenly registering his smile, and the way he stood before her. “Why do you look so smug?”

“It’s just that you seem to be glowing.” He winked.

Kahlan’s blood ran cold. He should not wink, nor speak to her in that way.

“Perhaps I am.” Her voice stayed even, as did her expression, even though she knew immediately that he was himself. That Prince Harold was no longer Confessed.

Her stomach fell with the realization that no one she had laid her hands on since the winter was confessed. When she had died, when they killed Neville, all the ties to those confessed were broken. She blinked. Kahlan knew from personal experience, when the confessed were released, when it all came rushing back to them, they were very rarely docile. Usually it was an overwhelming sense of vengeance that sent those people off into the world. Because for them to be released the Confessor had to die. With her dead they could not get their revenge. Kahlan was very much alive. And Prince Harold was staring boldly into her eyes.

He remembered being confessed. He knew what he had done to make it happen.

His smile seemed to get wider, prouder, as she did nothing. “The army is glad, as am I, that you have returned. And that you will be leading us into battle.”

“Yes well, let us not delay then.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin.” His eyes twinkled, and her fingers around the hilt of the sword in her hand tightened.

He was close, close enough that she could smell the hint of wine on his breathe, and his sword brushed against her leg. Part of Kahlan wished he was standing to her other side, and that as he leaned into her he would feel the scalding lick from her Agiel.

As it was she swallowed and attempted to appear calm.

“I am not mad, you know.” He smiled in the moonlight. “When I came back to myself, I was mad. I was so very enraged I nearly wrote to my sister, to tell her that you had done the inconceivable, Confessing me like that. But then. Then I understood Kahlan. You had been so over come with all that was happening, and what you were feeling, well it is understandable really. You could not control yourself. I know that now.”

She did not speak. Her words would have been many and peppered with curses.

“Next time we will be more careful.” His hand moved to caress her cheek, and she took a step back. His hand fell to his side. “I promise, you will be happy. We can even wed if you would like. You can become Queen.”

“I am already Queen.”

“But I could make you mine.”

“I belong to another. And I always will, Prince Harold. I advise you to step away, and to never again come near me, unless you have received permission.”

“Permission?” He laughed. “Are you sure about that? You seem a little confused. Should I remind you that I can easily write to my sister? She was concerned about my lack of communication for those days when you stole my soul. I told her I was under the weather, not myself, consumed by a fever. But I can tell her what you did.”

“Would you also tell her what you did?”

He scoffed. “I was being helpful. You were vindictive. You may be the Mother Confessor, but we still control the majority of the Midlands and the Central Council.”

“Is that so?”

“Don’t make this difficult.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Mother Confessor?” Hally appeared at her side, like a little nymph who just came into being.

“Yes?”

“I am afraid you are running late, please excuse us, Prince Harold.”

“Oh, of course.”

* * * * *

“How many did you kill today?” Rikka asked him as they met in the shadows between tents. Once they arrived on the edges of the Imperial Order’s mass, they had agreed to split up, and meet at the furthest east tent at each change of the sky. At dawn and at dusk they had met. It allowed for, Rikka hoped, more mayhem that was less noticeable. Luckily, as they moved through the men and women of the Imperial Order’s Army, they were perfectly camouflaged. And the killing, kept her alive, but also was slowing making her feelings of uselessness fade away.

“Only four.” He grumbled.

She tisked. “You disappoint me.”

“I disappoint myself.” His shoulders drooped. “I didn’t think it would be so hard. Tricking them into fights. All this sneaking around. I would be easier if we could just run them through and be done with it.”

“I know. I only sent three to the Keeper.” Rikka shoved her elbow into his side the moment she heard him start to chuckle. “Don’t gloat.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I know!” She snapped her fingers and turned to look up at him. “Let’s start a fire.”

“Ingenious and evil.” He smiled down at her, and it was a very specific sort of smile. It dripped with dark intent. It was a familiar look, one Rikka knew from others, and one she had given. It was a look that made her heart skip a beat, made her want to either kill him, or kiss him.

Rikka slapped his shoulder, hard.

“Hey!”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I…er…”

Rikka sighed, but meant her words, “Orsk, I am dead. You are confessed. Let’s focus on our duty, shall we.”

“What if.”

“No. Come, puppy, let’s go kill. We are one step closer to that witch, I can feel it.”

* * * * *

She slipped inside of the tent, and Raina sprung off of Berdine, her leathers half off, and her Agiel in her hand, though now it was screaming in an all together different tone from the one it just had been as it moved over Berdine’s skin.

They had both been so consumed in one another that their attack instincts surged to life when someone entered the tent. Seeing it was the Mother Confessor did not put them at ease, not when her complexion was so very pale.

“I am sorry.” Kahlan offered.

“What is wrong?”

“Prince Harold.” She sighed.

Raina’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“He. Spirits I had completely forgotten that he would be here. When he was not in the conference. I” She ran her hands through her hair. “Thankfully Hally arrived.”

“Mother Confessor, we are sorry that we were not with you.” Berdine said sitting up, wanting to smack herself in the head for allowing herself to get carried away, to let reality slip passed her notice.

“No. No. I sent you away.”

“Why is this Prince a bother? Doesn’t he know he should bow before you?” Raina asked.

“He…he was confessed. I… I confessed him.”

Raina looked at Berdine who shrugged. This was not unexpected, just interesting.

“But, now, he… he isn’t. While Prince Harold was never an evil man. He… he did something to me.” She shook her head, as if clearing her thoughts. Kahlan sat down beside Berdine not carrying that she was half naked. “I am so tired. But. If I go to my tent.”

“You don’t need to say more. Stay here. We will keep him away.”

“I am sorry. I know… how rare alone time is for you two, but…this tent is beside mine, and I … I cannot bear to be alone. I am sorry.”

“Mother Confessor. We understand. You can even cuddle with Berdine. She is very good at it.”

“Raina!” Berdine’s eyes went wide. Cuddling, and certainly cuddling with the Mother Confessor was not what her body was of the mind to do.

“It is true. You are big and soft and warm. Go. Hold her. Sing her that lullaby you sing to me.”

“Raina!” Berdine groaned, her hands covering her face.

Kahlan laughed softly. Berdine peeked at her from behind her fingers. She had not thought that they would have heard the Mother Confessor’s laugh again so soon.

“I will go and fetch some guards, and together we will neuter the Prince.”

“No… Just keep him away. I will handle him in time.” Her eyes moved between the women. “I just… can I stay here for a little while?”

Berdine looked to Raina, whose face flashed for a moment with concern. Neither had seen the Mother Confessor appear so unsure, so lost. There was no question. It did not matter that they were sworn to protect her; they would protect her without the command from Cara. She was more than the Mother Confessor, more than Kahlan a Sister of the Agiel. To both of them she was a friend.

Berdine set her hand on her shoulder, just for a moment as she said, “Of course, Kahlan.”

Part 31

She pulled the comforting dark cloak of pain around her. Kahlan used it too sooth the glaring sun reaching her eyes, to silence the cries of birds, and the longing calls of the insects. Pain was cold, making her skin shiver as the sweat rolled off her brow. Pain was a small part of the greater whole. Of Love. One word. Infinite expressions.

Frustration licked at the back of her eyes, frustration that tasted like spoiled meat, and made her want to curse the summer day. Frustration that Cara was feeling too. The message in the journey book that morning was a testament to the frustration. There had been no words, no vows of love, no sentences expressing hope. There had only been the vengeful mark of frustration. Cara’s bloody palm print had covered the entire page, splatters of blood ringing it, showing the voracity with which Cara’s hand had slapped down.

It was an image Kahlan had decided to keep, to not wipe clean. She wanted to always be able to turn back to that page, to remember that moment. A moment where words could not convey the painful frustration that was love.

Light and Dark.

Pleasure and Discontent

Passion and Lethargy.

Desperation and Hope.

Love and Pain.

It was balance. As with all things in life there was balance. There could not be one thing without the other. Kahlan had always understood that. She lived it now.

Nicci was approaching; Kahlan could feel the hum of her magic. Now that the Mord–Sith was awake inside of her all the time, while not with the same insatiability that had been present in Aydindril, she was still there. She made her demands and made her intensions clear. With the acceptance and awakening of the Mord–Sith came more than her sharp focus. Kahlan could feel those with magic as they drew near. Could sense the faintest movement in the distance. The change in the air around, from the smallest fly to an arrow. The Mord–Sith was not a magical creature, though their abilities were rooted in the bond and the gifts. No, what Kahlan had discovered was that to be Mord–Sith was to be stripped down to the bone. To have emotions, morals, ideology, thick confines of society ripped from you. A Mord–Sith was primal and focused. Her goal was survival. They could sense movement, hunt and track. They could kill immediately. They were the ultimate weapon, especially against the Confessor, who was completely entrenched in the rules of society, in the solid foundation of emotion, morality. They were the balance to one another. Inside Kahlan, for whatever reason, she felt completely balanced. Her hate, and her love. Her need for pain, and her need to sooth.

Nicci stopped behind her, presumably looking out over the wide valley and rolling hills that they would cross tomorrow. Behind them were the towering mountains between D’Hara and the Midlands. To the south, those rolling hills and the valley that was carved down the center by the Kern River. The north the forests and marshes. Her kingdom, the mass of land where magic lived, thrived. That she vowed to protect. The sun overhead made waves in the distance, thickened the air so that she could almost feel Nicci’s magic moving around them.

Kahlan had left the camp a few hours ago, needing to walk, to distance herself from the noise and the routine. Zedd had returned two days ago, and had brought back with him Vera, who was now the Prelate of the Sisters of the light, as well as five wizards. Not many, but the only ones that they could spare. The others were keeping protective webs of magic in place around the Palace of the Prophets, which miraculously had not yet been taken by the Imperial Order.

She had met with them both once, to hear reports on finding caves. As suspected some of the caves were well hidden, others guarded by either men, or magic. They had lost three Mord–Sith and one Wizard to such magic wards. But they had also managed to reverse many of the artistry spells. Including the one they believed was the cause of the recent incident of red fruit being poison. And another more insidious spell, which they believe had to do with the children of D’Hara. Zedd had not gone into detail. At least it was removed. It was that spell that had killed the three Mord–Sith as they worked to erase it. Kahlan still shuddered at the mere thought that all it would take were strokes of colored chalk on the wall of stone to alter free will, time, thought. That a mere image could inspire the darkest thoughts of man.

They had talked well into the night, voices droning on, and bringing with it the dread. The more she learned the thicker it became. The more she felt as though the battle would be long, and deadly. And the more they talked the more frustration built a home behind her eyes. Their voices would drone on and on, and she would find herself needing to walk, to pace. What she really needed to do was to hurt. To hurt herself and to hurt another. She needed to fight. To feel the power in battle. Tomorrow she would have her first taste from the river of blood. It eased the need somewhat. While they had found and been shadowing the large army that moved through the Midlands, Kahlan and her small force were merely the fly on the rump of the horse. There, but of no consequence. Well, tomorrow they would become the biting fly. Tomorrow she would be granted a certain kind of release. Anticipation was heavy in her heart. It had been too long. She needed to strike out. To hurt. Kill. Every day she would catch sight of Prince Harold and it was all she could to not to run him though with her sword. Luckily Raina and Berdine were very well versed in keeping men from bothering her. They had done it perfectly with Richard in the past, and were very affective now. Though in the two weeks they had traveled west, she could still not sleep alone in her tent. The two Mord–Sith had given up pretence, and now all of their things were placed inside of Kahlan’s tent each night. They took turns sleeping beside her, and soothing the tears when she woke from what she felt was a nightmare, but in truth was her reality.

Part of her knew it was unfair, to asked this of them. To interfere in what little time they had together. But there was such comfort in being near them; of how they reminded her so much at times of Cara that she did not think she could just turn away from that comfort. No matter how much more it made her heart hurt, nor how selfish it may be. She was not ready to be without it. She hoped nightly as she prayed to the Spirits to protect Cara that she was not alone. That she had found someone to confide in.

Though knowing her mate she doubted that very much.

“Kahlan?”

“Yes?”

“I believe I may have come up with a plan.”

Kahlan turned to regard the slightly smaller woman. It was almost painful to voice her hope. “To free Cara?”

“No. I am sorry, on that I am still not sure.” Her blue eyes looked away from Kahlan, to the wide stretch of land in the distance, allowing for the moment it took for the hope in Kahlan’s eyes to be replaced by acceptance. “I was speaking with Prelate Vera and the Wizard.”

“And so your plan is?”

“You understand the scope of your enemy. There are not enough men and women in the New World to fight them, even if we had the next three generations born, raised, and trained to stand with us. This was the same problem that arose the last time the New and Old Worlds collided. And I think that we should look to that. To the past. Now it is the same as it was thousands of years ago, the last time those mongrels without magic dared to take this land and wipe out those with magic.”

“Boundaries.” Kahlan breathed.

“Yes.”

“But how? It took thousands of wizard’s lives to create something strong enough to last three thousand years.”

Nicci rubbed the tips of her fingers together. “I know.” A wicked glint began to gain ground in her icy blue eyes. “What took a thousand men, should only take the power of a few hundred women, wouldn’t you agree?” She asked.

* * * * *

“You seem to mistake me for someone who cares what you think, Commander.” Cara said softly not bothering to look at the man who was hovering near her.

“They cannot requisition our troops. They are needed here.” He replied.

“Here? What possible reason would the People’s Palace need a hundred thousand men, sitting restlessly in her bowels when they could be out there, doing what they were born to do? Wrecking havoc and bringing death.” She slammed the small penknife’s point into the map, alongside the Kern River. “This is where they will go, to push the Imperial Order into the Midlands. The Mother Confessor’s plan is a sound one, and one we will assist her with.”

In the weeks that had passed since Kahlan had left D’Hara daily reports had come in detailing ideas and plans. And requests. All of which Lord Rahl refused. He would learn, Cara was sure of that. And until he did she was slowly sending Mord–Sith and other loyal members of the armies to Kahlan. Along with shipments and supplies. It felt like she was doing hardly anything, but it was something, she tried to tell herself.

Nightly she would pace in her room and try to write to Kahlan. In their correspondence, they had an unspoken agreement. They did not speak of war, or of strategy. They left that reality for the day. At night their words were to be of them, and just for them. Usually Cara’s words were stilted, short. Rough. She could not seem to find the way to allow her heart to speak through words. It was beyond frustrating for her. On the other hand Kahlan would create, in her firm and elegant script, the most romantic and soothing emotions within Cara. How she was able to do such a thing, using mere words was mindboggling to her. She had never known, nor even thought that through words emotions and physical reactions could be brought to life. Nightly she would try to reciprocate, return to Kahlan words that held some sort of emotion, but she continually felt as though she were coming up short, merely throwing angry words which made no sense at the page. The previous night she had become so very angry at herself that she had slapped the page, not realizing that once her blood touched it, the message was sent to the other journey book. She was mortified that she had shown Kahlan her frustration and her rage. She had not checked the book since; terrified at the response she may receive. Part of her felt that the reply would either be a mirrored image of Kahlan’s hand, or kind words too sooth the hard lines of Cara’s set brow. She felt at the moment that she did not deserve either.

Cara sprung to her feet as the floor and then walls trembled around her. She felt more than heard a low keening sound of pain, before in the distance a rumble, cracking, and then muted screams of terror and pain.

“What in the Creator’s name was that?” Commander Meiffert growled. “Go! Now!” He ordered, and his three lieutenants sprung to action, moving towards the chamber doors, but they surged back as the door flew open with the magical wrath flowing from Darken Rahl’s fingers. His mouth was in a hard line as he stormed through, two Mord–Sith behind him.

“She DARES!” His voice was a barely contained scream. “That whore dares to do this in MY HOME!”

Cara watched the honest rage rolling in his eyes, and the contempt in his tone.

She waited.

“A bomb. A Dragon’s breath bomb. Inside the People’s Palace.” He looked at her. “We will show her that this will not go unpunished.”

“Yes, we will.” Cara replied.

“Say what you will about me and most is accurate, but I will not abide someone slaughtering my people, who are in this place under my protection. A BOMB! In the center of the Main Market. Women, Children.” He slammed his fist to the table so hard with the flares of magic that it cracked down the center. “The Mother Confessor asks for more troops. She will have them. She asked for the most deviant of mercenaries. She will have them.” His eyes flicked to Cara’s and in them she saw neither compassion or understanding. She saw the rage that comes when one who thinks they are above the fray feels the rough strike of reality against their cheek. “Commander Meiffert, inform the guards of the Palace, they are to observe Devotions. If any one person, I do not care who, I care not their station, or age, if they do not give Devotion they are to be put to death immediately.”

“As you command, Lord Rahl.” Commander Meiffert saluted and then rushed out.

“I will admit, you were right Cara.” He walked around the remnants of the table, closer to her. “It was a child that did this. They used… a child.”

“To send you a message.” Cara confirmed.

“We will send her one of our own.”

Darken Rahl had just learned his first lesson. Apathy does not guarantee that you will not be affected by the world around you. His eyes, shining darkly were very much enraged. Perhaps even he did not know yet how humane, how feeling he was. Standing before her, probably just for a moment, was the Lord Rahl. Was the magic against the magic. She would be the steel against the steel once again.

Her intent laced her statement, leaving no room for quarrel. “I will be leading the Third Battalion.”

“Take some of the Mord–Sith with you.”

“I would rather they stay here, to protect you.” She sneered the word protect.

“They are stretched a little thin, now that you and the Mother Confessor sent them off to run errands.”

“Errands that only a Mord–Sith could accomplish.” Cara replied.

“Without my approval.” He started to argue.

Cara crossed her black leather covered arms and narrowed her voice and eyes. “I hate you. And you hate me. Let us not confuse the larger issue. We will destroy the Imperial Order first.”

“And then we will begin our little dance shall we?”

“Promise made.”

“Promise will be kept.”

* * * * *

They stood silently, and watched them come. On these high hills, surrounded by trees they stood, as the sun rose, highlighting the movements, glistening off of weaponry, and any other metallic object. The sound of the drums had been heard hours before the first light, before the first glimpse of the army that made its way through the valley.

Kahlan moved slightly, and Berdine noticed her hand moving in a calming circle on her ever enlarging belly, as if the child inside was becoming uneasy with the constant thunder. Looking to the mass of movement in the distance she tried for a while to count individual men, but soon gave up. Not due to lack of candidates, but because she was reaching into the thousands, and they were so many more. She had seen impressive armies, such as the first wave of D’Harans that were lined in the Azrith Plain preparing to invade the Midlands on Lord Rahl’s command. They had stretched out impressively, three hundred thousand men. Those numbers would be dwarfed by the sight before her, which seemed to have no end.

What made this many people leave their homes, their families and travel arduously into an unknown land? What motivated them to live with only the barest of comforts? What fueled their waking moments, and what haunted their nightmares? She had seen the after affects of these marauders, these people. Though she used the term people loosely. She did not know of any race of people in all the New World who could do the things the Imperial Order had done. Even D’Haran armies did not leave such mutilated corpses, desecrated towns and villages. Even the most horrific things she had done herself as a Mord–Sith, and had done to her, did not compare to what she had seen by these people. And that was saying something, as her own nightmares were not of mythical beasts, but of actions done by her own hands. Still she wondered, what could possibly motivate them, to whip them into such a hateful frenzy? All of her crimes and all of her misdeeds were motivated by the will of her master. She was trained, and made, honed and hardened to carry out his will. Taking innocent girls, breaking them. Slaughtering enemy armies in combat, killing those who used magic against her master. All of these things were done because she obeyed her master. And now, everything she did was to protect the Mother Confessor, as well as obey her master. What motivated Berdine was the bond, and beyond that now she was fueled by the powerful desire to protect. Could all of those in the Imperial Order be bond to the Dream Walker? Was that the power that gave them the strength to burn women and children alive? To skin and eat the elderly when they had gorged on all the livestock and were still ravenous? Was it a love and a desire to protect Six, their Empress and Jagang, their Emperor? Berdine had wondered, walking through the destroyed towns, her face cold, seeing what had been done to the villagers, those who once thrived in the cities, of Horner’s Mill, Renwold; she had wondered if ordered to by her master, if she would have been able to carry out the atrocities that she had seen. She did not think that she could. For the same reason she had never trained young girls, molding them into Mord–Sith. But even the hardest of the Sisters of the Agiel would be hard pressed to follow an order which would lead to what she had seen. Moving through crucified remains, pikes topped with the heads of infants, piles of half eaten half burned bodies, Berdine had felt anger and sadness. She did not even think that Darken Rahl was capable of ordering such actions. Seeing what they had, as they traveled further west only seemed to make the Mother Confessor’s resolve stronger, added bricks and mortar to the walls she was constructing inside of herself. The Mother Confessor no longer openly wept at seeing her citizens dead, villages burned to sticks. Now her face was hard. Her voice controlled. It was only fleeting, and at night in her sleep when she cried. When for a few moments she would become a tornado of sadness and tears, before it would all subside and be pulled back inside. To fuel the Mother Confessor’s fire. The fire to return harmony and safety to the Midlands. To ensure that reason returned strong and ferociously, devouring the hate, the vile ugliness that the Imperial Order was bringing forth.

Reason. It walked hand in hand with freedom in the Midlands. There was the rule of law that applied to most, and the rule of culture which applied to all. It was a diverse and flowing example of how societies can thrive together, even under the ultimate rule of one. D’Hara was much more homogenized, but still there was more freedom than there was not. There were the tribes in the south, in the Deep Nothing, there were those tribes in the North who thrive along the oceans. And then there were those who live and worked, their entire life their own, but for the daily devotions. They did not tithe, they did not supplement the monarchy. They existed. Sometimes they surrendered something to the Lord Rahl such as crops or a child, but those were rare occurrences. It was this freedom that created pride and comfort knowing that the Lord Rahl protected them from those who would do harm. D’Harans gladly gave when requested to ensure this freedom. The same, Berdine was learning, applied to the Midlands, and the Mother Confessor. People were free. They had reason and understanding. That was the way of the New World. Or had been, until the Imperial Order.

Those in the Old World, all they knew was tithing, was giving; that they were to surrender all that they had, as well as their body for the cause of the Order. And the Imperial Order was not lead by Six, or this mythical Emperor Jagang. They had learned, from Nicci, and from those very few men that they had captured, that at the center of the Imperial Order was something called the Brotherhood. It was the roots from which every thought and credo was developed and then sent throughout the Old World. The Brotherhood, who preached and reinforced that there was no freedom in life, that life is to be lived for others, and that in death you will be granted your wildest dreams.

The New World believes that in life you can obtain your wildest dreams.

Berdine swallowed. In the eyes of the enemy she had only seen hate. Hate for her, hate for the perceived gluttony of the people in the New World.

Was their cause so very just in their minds that they no longer possessed a conscious? Was the hate all that they needed to motivate them to do the things that they did?

Raina stood beside her, gently leaning into her. “Did you hear the witch’s plan?”

“One of them. Though, you do know we cannot trust everything that comes from Nicci’s mouth.” Berdine answered.

“I am aware. I trust no one.”

Berdine reached and yanked on the leather collar around Raina’s neck, the dark black of the leather was familiar and new. “Hence our new uniforms?”

“They say it was Kahlan’s request. But I think it was the Wizard or the Seeker.”

Berdine smiled. “It was Cara.”

Raina blinked for a moment. “I should have guessed. Always pushing things, wanting to disrupt the status quo. I think the black leather looks better on you, than me.”

“It will keep Six from being able to write those spells of hers. Now she can spell all those in red, but we shall be immune. For now.”

“There are so many new threats laying in shadows, things never conceived. From certain foods becoming poisonous one day when they were enjoyed the day before. From children speaking with the voice of the Keeper. To wives slaughtering their sons. The world has become a place without rule or logic.” Raina grumbled. All of her words were true. In the recent month insanity seemed to flourish within the New World. Things were turned inside out. It was the escalation, and the threat from things once inconceivable that was hacking away at the moral and the focus of not only the armies, but the citizens of all kingdoms, or so it seemed from all of the correspondence moving back and forth. Berdine found her hand and squeezed, just for a heart beat, before with a smile, Raina nodded and moved away.

“We cannot defeat them.” Kahlan said softly. “Do you feel any gifted with them?” she asked Nicci.

“Oh yes. Many. For now.” Nicci replied.

“We cannot let them reach Aydindril.”

“And how will we stop them.” Raina asked.

“Stop them? No, we will just slow them. We need to remove the head from this snake. And until we are ready to do so, we must nip at them, trip them, and annoy them. We must slow them down. I have declared war, with no mercy, and giving no quarter and I meant it.” She turned and began walking back to where they had left the horses. “Nicci, send them a greeting, would you?”

“With pleasure.” Nicci actually smiled, and as Berdine walked beside the Mother Confessor, large barrels were being rolled past them by a handful of guards.

She shuddered knowing what was inside; broken glass, rusted nails, broken tips of swords and pikes. Debris from previous skirmishes.

As they reached the horses, so did the distant screams. Nicci had sent the Imperial Order a ferocious wind full of shrapnel.

The battle had begun. Whether any of them were prepared or not.

* * * * *

Screams of outrage danced through the camp, as well as faint orders. Apparently the front of the surge, which had pulled up their stakes hours earlier and began the march to the north had come under attack. That was music to Rikka’s ears. Finally the Imperial Order would learn that the new world did have teeth. Sharp ones.

Orsk used his machete and sliced open the back of the tent. In the madness of the moment, as the battalion of Galean Soldiers slaughtered their way into camp from the east no one seemed to notice them.

He held the flap high, and Rikka slipped inside. She moved swiftly and with determination, not bothering with the guards, sensing and hearing as Orsk butchered them easily. No her target was before her, slowly rising from her chair of bones, her thin frame radiating power. Even being dead, Rikka could feel the magic and the intense darkness of it moving around her.

“YOU!” Six sneered.

“Miss me?” Rikka asked, kicking aside the guard who rushed at her. He fell with a grunt, and she twirled the dagger in her hand, before she threw it. She knew it was a useless gesture, because Six could, and did, use her magic to knock it aside.

Which Rikka had counted on. It had given Orsk the window of a moment, and he used it, throwing his short sword. It slammed into Six’s chest.

Her faintly colored eyes went wide, and her pale and skeletal mouth opened wide in shock, and Rikka hoped, pain. Her hands moved near the protruding blade, tendrils of magic dancing from her finger tips to the blood and the steel. “You cannot be the one to kill me! You are merely pawns. Foot soldiers. Nobodies.”

“It is the nobodies you should always watch out for.” Rikka grinned, her fingers grabbing the handle of the sword and twisting it. Six’s eyes burned with magic, and her hands reached up, palms flat and the magic sent sparks between them.

Rikka was prepared for the Underworld, so knowing she was about to be struck with magic did not cause her any concern.

She pulled the sword fee and stabbed Six again, on the other side of her heart.

Suddenly she had to blink, as blood was flung from a thick ax blade, coating her face. Orsk was standing in front of her, his favorite ax having cleaved Six’s head in half. Letting go of the sword handle, the one powerful witch, leader of the Imperial Order’s Army, controller of the Dream Walker, and bane to Rikka’s existence, dropped to the floor in a pile of weak and lifeless bones.

“Well.” Rikka sighed, feeling the annoying pang of dissatisfaction. She looked at Orsk who was grinning ear from ear. “Your Mistress will be so pleased with you.” She said snidely.

He turned his face away slightly, mumbling. “I would prefer it if you were pleased.”

“Oh you big oaf.” She punched his shoulder, hard, and his hand grabbed her fist, consumed it really, his hands were so massive.

“Rikka.”

Her eyes narrowed, seeing again how he was looking at her. Even when she told him not to. Her chest heaved a growl of annoyance, and awareness. “How long have you not been confessed?”

“Months. But.”

“Good Spirits.” She yanked her hand away, and turned from him shaking her head. He could have killed her. For months!

“Rikka. I am confessed…I am devoted.”

She slapped her palms to her face, covering her eyes. “Oh just snap my neck now.”

“I just might you stupid woman.” He growled.

“Me?” She spun around and glared up at his intense eye. “Stupid?”

“Yes you. Come on. Let’s kill more of these bastards. With the Mother Confessor and her army here finally, we can kill indiscriminately, no more hiding. And, once the ground is covered in a river of blood, we will find that Wizard that has been sending his flames into camp. And you WILL ask him to heal you.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“You will too. I do not want to marry a baneling.”

“Marry?” She took a step back, her mouth moving, but soundlessly. Just as she was about to tell him that he was insane, the battle cries increased, and men rushed into the tent, to defend their Empress. The three men who rushed inside looked down, at the very much dead Empress, and with a howl lunged at the two of them.

Rikka ducked, and the nearest blade missed her throat. From below she slammed her dagger into the man’s groin and pulled, severing the artery and moving to push him aside. “I am suddenly feeling cornered. And not just by you. We need to get out of here.”

Orsk grunted his agreement behind her.

Hearing the tear of canvas as she blocked a swinging sword with her dagger, Rikka twisted her body, snapped the man’s arm and pulled the sword into her hand. She thrust the newly acquired blade behind her. The guard who had been about to strike, instead dropped to the ground. More men rushed inside. Swinging her sword, she walked backwards, trusting that Orsk was protecting her back. As she stepped into the bright light of morning, her eyes narrowed under the glare.

She heard a squeal, and turned sharply, to see a bare–chested guard standing a few feet away, his meaty arm around the neck of the young girl. The one Rikka knew had been nearby, the one she had come to take care of.

Smiling, feeling the surge of pride at accomplishing a task, knowing that even if she died in the next moments she would still wear the badge of honor in her heart as she roasted in the pits of the Underworld, Rikka threw her dagger, hard, straight, and true towards the guard and the girl.

* * * * *

A hand clamped down over her mouth and another on her arm, and she was pulled back wards and into the shadows. Cara could easily break free the hold, but instead she allowed it for a moment, curious.

“He is not in a very good mood.” The voice whispered hotly in her ear, the hand moved from her mouth.

Cara’s eyes rolled, before she looked down the length of the hall, that lead through the winding corridors of this floor of the People’s Palace, before ending at the large silver embossed doors into the Lord Rahl’s receiving chambers. She had been on her way, to listen to the latest news that should have arrived by now, to hear if the first wave of the attack had taken place that morning as planned. She needed to know. Needed to know that her heart beating erratically with worry was justified, that Kahlan was in the thick of battle.

That Darken Rahl was in a bad mood was not her concern. He was always in a mood, be it bad or jovial. His emotions were as tumultuous at times as a woman.

“So?” Cara asked turning to see Nyda looking at her. Her eye was red and swelling, and there was a cut on her cheek. Nyda had been popping up more and more lately. When Cara had lived at the People’s Palace, it was well known within the ranks that if you had someone whom you needed to talk, to break under torture, then Nyda was the perfect Mord–Sith to send them to. She was older than Cara, but not yet of the age where Mord–Sith began to act rashly. It was the creed of the Mord–Sith, to die young, in battle or in the service of Lord Rahl was an honor. To be greeted by death when one was old, lacking teeth and in bed was a shame. Many Mord–Sith, when they got to a certain age would act out to ensure they met death on their terms. While still in their prime. With only a few visible strands of gray in her light blonde hair, and etched lines about her eyes, Nyda had a few years left, Cara thought, before she did something foolish. Though why she kept appearing, in hallways, during devotions, sulking in the shadows as Cara passed was interesting and unusual. Nyda normally could be found in the dungeons.

“I.. I just thought.”

“You are not my friend, Nyda, you are not my confidant. I don’t need you lurking about.”

“You are… our Mistress. We are to protect you.”

“Not from him. He is your Lord and Master. As he is mine.”

Nyda’s voice dropped to a hiss. “Why don’t you fight?”

Cara shoved her against the wall roughly. “I AM.”

“No you aren’t. We feel connected to you, not as strongly as to him. But enough. You could”–

“What? Tell me Nyda, what could I do?”

“Order us to follow you! Usurp him! Something.”

“No.” Cara said darkly.

“NO?”

Cara narrowed her eyes. “Run back to your Master and tell him that I will not take anything from him. Not by force and not even if he gave it to me. I am… here. Isn’t that enough?”

* * * * *

The power of Nick’s strides were unmatched by any of the other warhorses around them, and they burst ahead of the group, and for one moment, Kahlan felt as though there was no one else in the world. That it was her and it was her horse, and the vast expanse of the world stretching out before them.

There was in that moment, the wind biting at her skin, running it’s ethereal fingers through her hair, and drying the blood and sweat on her skin that she was certain that the two of them could ride, fast enough and hard enough that they would reach the distant horizon before it had time to move away, and that they could topple over the edge of existence.

Her eyes closed with the thought.

To just stop.

For the world to stop.

For there to be no more war, no more duty, no more discussion and no more anything.

To fall into the nothing.

Pain radiated from her midsection as her mind danced with the darkness in her heart. It was as if her child reached out and slapped her.

She set her hand on her rapidly growing belly. “I am sorry, little one. There are just some times when… living… is so very… hard.”

Another kick, and Kahlan smiled. Because she was quite sure that she heard Cara’s voice, telling her to snap out of her melancholy.

“All right my love.” She whispered.

Kahlan’s eyes flashed open, and they burned with the dust from the wind, and the agony that came with living. The agony that tasted like stale air, and smelt of blood.

Nick was foaming at the mouth, and his gait was impressive, as the land moved below them. To the left she could just see the faint shadows, the nuance of something there. She knew in the distance were the forests and marshes. Part of the battle had moved here. Behind her, an outpost of the Imperial Order, which was burning, crumpled and not one man left living. In the opposite direction, where she was charging towards, the side of the enemy. A massive column of moving bodies. They may not be able to defeat them, but she would make sure that she sent a good solid number of them to the Keeper before the sun set on this day.

Her skin was tightening with the wind drying the blood and sweat on her skin. It made her feel the fatigue in her arms. Kahlan Amnell thought of returning to camp. To crawling into her bed, inside the moderate safety that was provided when surrounded by her own army. But Mistress Kahlan was not yet sated. Nor was the Mother Confessor. She urged Nick to turn with a pressure on his reins, and he did so, and amazingly his strides increased, as if he knew they were charging back into the carnage.

Kahlan leaned further over Nick, feeling the momentum, and letting that be her only thought now, let the darkness slip back into her heart until she could hold it, cherish it for what it was, later. For now? Now she was alive, covered in the blood of the enemy, and distance was being slaughtered under the hooves of her horse.

* * * * *

“My the Midlands are lovely.” Berdine mimicked. “You said that. Remember that you said that?” Her hand reached up and smashed one in the flurry of insects that were swirling around her head to the back of her neck, just above her collar.

“I was referring to the mountains. In particular that one waterfall.” Raina huffed, throwing off the dead weight of the soldier who had fallen and then died on top of her.

“You still said it.”

“I did. And I meant it. This?” She stood up, and then looked down at her leathers now covered in a thick sheen of slimy mud as they stood in the center of this swamp. “This is different.”

There was a groan at her feet, and Berdine noticed the filthy man who had a moment ago charged her declaring her death a sacrifice to the glory of the Creator, was trying to reach his sword, even though it was far away, and his back was broken.

She reached down and snapped his neck, before replying. “This is still the Midlands.”

“Yes, I was wrong. This is horrid. I do not think this mud will ever get out of my leathers.”

“Do you two normally complain this much? I know it has been awhile, but really.”

“Shut up Hally.” Berdine grumbled as she walked through the fallen men, using some of them to walk on to avoid the putrid smelling water. If it even was water. Following the order to grant no mercy or peace, they had charged after the gutless men who ran from the battle into the marshes. She hated them all the more for running here. The three of them happily obeyed the command, and killed them with pleasure.

She felt another bite, this time on her cheek and slapped it.

“I know about frustration.” Hally grumbled, pulling a sword from the chest of a man. “Bradley won’t look at me lately.”

Berdine slapped once more, growling. “I am getting eaten alive!”

“Well at least someone is.” Hally mumbled. “Wait. Are these flies? Are there Gars? I hate Gars.”

“It’s noon. There are no Gars. Spirits, did I teach you nothing?” A new voice said in a huff. Berdine sung around, her Agiel in her hand. A sharp slap against her other cheek was her greeting from Rikka.

“Well well well.” Raina said striding over. “And where have you been hiding?”

“In the middle of these dogs.” Rikka said, kicking a long dead man in the shoulder. “Living amid them, day in and day out. Ugh. They are vile.”

“Then why in the world would you surround yourself with them?” Berdine asked.

“The Mother Confessor asked me to.” She said evenly, and that was all that needed to be said. Raina nodded her agreement, before putting away her Agiel.

Berdine noticed a set of eyes looking up from behind Rikka’s arm, and she squatted down to peer back at the white eyes looking at her.

“I think you have a growth of some sort, Rikka. There appears to be a child attached to you.”

“Bah! Child. Hardly.” Rikka said, reaching behind and pulling the girl out in front of her. “This is Jillian. I thought she would have more fun playing with you two than staying around me.”

Berdine tilted her head, looking at the girl, before looking up at Rikka and scowling. “Rikka, why do you have the Dream Walker? Or let me be more clear. Why is she alive?”

“Mmmm. Well.”

“I told you!” Berdine said to Raina. “Soft! We are all soft.” A hand set gently on her shoulder, and the touch was hesitant, which made her look to Raina. Her eyes were distant. Almost cloudy. “Raina?”

Softly the Dream Walker spoke, but what she said Berdine did not know. The words were said in one of the few dialects she was not proficient in. It sounded familiar though. Very familiar. When Raina responded with a two syllable sound, Berdine recognized it and why it was familair. She set her hand on top of Raina’s and stood slowly.

“Well, it seems you have been introduced to everyone but me. I am Berdine, Mord–Sith.”

“Jillian.” The girl said hesitantly.

“I suppose you two should take her to the Mother Confessor.” Rikka said.

The girl seemed to pale, slightly.

“Oh no you don’t.” Berdine snapped. “You found her? You take her.”

“I have things I should be doing.” Rikka argued right back.

Berdine of course was having none of it, and stepped right up to Rikka. While she would have gladly escorted the Dream Walker to the Mother Confessor, she had an inkling that Rikka had been away for some time, and knowing the Mother Confessor as she did, was quite positive that she would want to see Rikka for herself.

“Yes you do. You are going to see the Mother Confessor. She is to the south of here. We have our orders, and they do not intale watching over miniature people.” Berdine stressed.

“Don’t make me teach you a lesson.” Rikka warned.

“We don’t have time for your lessons. Just take her to the Mother Confessor.”

“Do I have to go?” The girl asked in a hesitant voice.

Berdine rolled her eyes and walked away, in affect ending the conversation. From behind she heard Raina speak to the young girl. “Don’t worry. It will be alright. The Mother Confessor is not as mean as everyone says.”

* * * * *

With a deep grunt her sword sliced through the midsection of the man beside her. His own sword dropped from his hand, and he reached for the injury, desperately trying to hold his insides where they belonged. The roar of battle was still loud around her, but her own body was beginning to feel the weight of her sword, and the scalding heat from the sun that had long since passed the zenith and was now moving towards its end.

“Mother Confessor. I dare say you should not be fighting in your condition.” A familiar voice said from beside her, and she turned, looking up at a face she had not expected to see again. Rikka was on the back of Nick, her smile managing to still look bright even though her face was covered in layers of blood and dirt.

Kahlan smirked. “Oh? You too are going to lecture me?”

As Rikka dropped down from the massive horse, Kahlan’s eyes went wide. Sitting there, looking filthy and small, white eyes burning with wisdom well beyond her age was the Dream Walker. For a moment Kahlan wondered if she was dreaming.

“Kahlan you are with child now, even I can see it.”

She turned and looked at Rikka. “I am sorry. Are you really talking to me about this, when you have just ridden into the middle of a battle field with her?” Kahlan pointed at the girl who slowly made her way off of Nick. “Really? That is what you want to talk about?” Kahlan looked back to the small girl, her clothes as foreign yet so very familiar to Kahlan now. She was the girl from her dreams. She was the Dream Walker.

Just that morning she had walked before the troops, giving them a speech on granting no quarter, giving the enemy no kindness. She had told them, if they came across the Dream Walker or Six, or the Emperor to kill them. Immediately. Kahlan believed in her decree. She knew that there could be not one moment of leniency for those who took up arms against her and her people. No mercy for those of the Old World who made their choice to fight. Her eyes moved over this young girl, her face bruised, her lips cracked and bloody. Her clothes were turning to weighted rags, covered in mud, what looked like old blood and feces. She was much thinner now than she had been the first time Kahlan had been visited by her, in the dream where she declared her the last. Kahlan would have raised her sword and cut her down. Perhaps a moment ago she would have. If she had not hesitated and seen her eyes. This girl did not willfully join the Imperial Order. She had been taken. Abused. Broken and bent to the will of others.

Kahlan swallowed.

She knew others who had experienced a similar childhood.

She could not kill the Dream Walker. In fact she knew that it was not her place to do so. This child had been forced. That was a distinct difference, and one that was enough to stay Kahlan’s executioning hand.

“Kahlan Amnell.” The girl said, and the tone of her voice, as well as seeing her in person made the hair rise on Kahlan’s arms and neck.

“Dream Walker.”

“Jillian, actually.” The girl smiled.

“Jillian.”

“Oh, Mother Confessor? Six is dead.” Rikka said, leaning over her shoulder.

“Oh really?” Kahlan’s eyes narrowed as she looked at her, convinced the woman was making a joke. Her eyes smiled.

“Her head split like any others. Nothing to special about her really.”

“I know you would succeed.”

“Well it was more Orsk.”

“Where is he?”

“Around here somewhere, though you should know”–

“Look out!”

A flurry of arrows rained around them, and Kahlan pulled Rikka and Jillian close and under her.

As they rose Rikka shoved her away roughly. “Are you INSANE? You are the Mother Confessor, you DO NOT protect anyone but yourself. Certainly not me! I think you are insane. Running into battle in your condition. Think of your unborn child. “

“I am. Her parents are warriors. They know duty and sacrifice. They know the bitter scent of blood, and the feel of a vengeful strike on their skin. War is already in her blood.”

“Now you are being as obstinate as Cara!” Rikka yelled.

“Don’t scream at me. I am not in the mood.” She grumbled. The cries of the battle surged around them again, and Kahlan moved closer to the girl, putting her arm over her shoulders. “Come, we need to get out of here.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need to go help Orsk.”

“Oh?”

“You wouldn’t understand. Being pregnant and not dead.”

“I understand better than you know. We are camped ten leagues to the west. I expect you to come.”

“I am of better use killing.”

“Come and see me just the same. There are something’s we need to discuss.” Kahlan said, and then handed Rikka her sword.

“Oh please. I don’t need that. I will get one of my own on the way back. Take care of yourself, Mother Confessor. And that one. She’s quite and shifty.” Rikka offered before beginning a light jog towards the Imperial Order, and the battle.

“She is odd.” Jillian said softly.

Kahlan turned around, regarding the small child. “She is.”

She ducked as suddenly there was a flutter of wings moving very closely to her head. For a moment she thought it was another onslaught of arrows, but looking to Jillian she saw that now there sat, on her left shoulder, a large raven.

“It’s not safe here.” Kahlan said, putting her sword away, and walking towards a pleased looking Nick. “We will go to the camp.”

“Will you now use me, to control others?” The girl asked, looking up at Kahlan with her white eyes, her expression hesitant.

“No. That is not how wars are won. The minds and hearts of men may be easily swayed by the vision of grandeur, but as time moves on they see the flaws, they see that it is all paint and shadow. No, only truth can have a lasting impression for mankind. You are free. As free as one can be in this world.”

“In one’s mind and heart, they are free. Free to believe the lie, or free to embrace the truth.”

Kahlan smiled. “You are free, Jillian. But not safe. We will keep you safe until you can return to your family.

“I am free of her. Just not free of the knowledge of what I have done.”

Kahlan offered her a smile, and her hand. “Come, I believe there may be someone who will make you feel more at home. I would like to tell you that you can trust me.”

“You know trust is earned.”

“Exactly.” Kahlan agreed, and Jillian accepted her hand, and Kahlan lifted her onto Nick’s high back, before she followed behind her. It was time to get them out of the heart of the surge.

There was a lot to report, and to process. Six dead, and the Dream Walker sitting in front of her. She had hoped to be successful on this day, but she had never imagined she would be granted such gifts.

Part 32

“What is she doing?” Berdine asked softly, coming to stand beside Raina. The young girl, the Dream Walker had stayed with them when the Mother Confessor left to find her tent and get some rest. Immediately the young girl had been enamored with Raina, speaking to her rapidly in a language that was both familiar and incomprehensible to Berdine. For a moment her dark eyed lover had looked at the girl as if she were mad, speaking gibberish, before with a hesitant pause in her voice she spoke back to her. The sparkle in Raina’s eyes, as her mind seemed to unlock the part of her that she had been sure was forgotten or destroyed opened and she seemed to find her voice. They had spoken together, in the musical highs and lows, and Berdine had been content to watch. Not understanding, nor needing to. It was beautiful to see Raina come alive, and they way she smiled was infections. She had gone to find blankets for Jillian, and when she returned the young girl was sitting beside the fire, her eyes wide open but unseeing as she rocked back and forth, her lips moving but no sound coming forth.

“She is casting.” Raina whispered, her gloved hand finding Berdine’s, and she entwined their fingers. “I had forgotten so many things.” She said, looking up at Berdine, who smiled back at her.

“I am glad… that you have remembered. Are you?”

“Yes… yes and no… when you do not remember something you do not miss it. Speaking in the language of my homeland, seeing a familiar face.” Her grip tightened. “It makes me miss it. It makes me wonder.”

Berdine swallowed. “Wonder what your life would have been like, if the Mord–Sith had not come.”

“Yes.”

“I am sure. That the Mother Confessor would allow you to return home. To take Jillian and find your people.”

“Berdine.”

“The war is raging, yes, but I know the Mother Confessor, she would never ask you to forsake what you wanted. And she would not look unkindly on you if you wanted to.”

“Berdine!”

“Yes?”

“You. You big silly woman, are my home.”

“I am?”

“You know you are.”

The fire flickered beside Jillian, and a massive raven announced its arrival as it landed on the girl’s shoulder. Berdine and Raina watched as Jillian seemed to whisper to the massive bird, and nodding, understanding somehow, it jumped back into the night sky.

“What was that?”

“She is casting.” Raina said again.

* * * * *

A fine mist swayed over the ground, moving around the trees, and highlighted by Night Wisp as they seemed to spin and twirl with excitement. Kahlan walked slowly, unsure. This was not real. Of that she was certain. She had fallen asleep in her tent. She knew that she had. She even remembered that she had been so exhausted she had left her white armor on. And looking down she could clearly see that she was wearing her white Confessor’s gown.

Curious she walked through the mist, around massive fir trees, following the dancing blue Night Wisp, and as she went between a bolder wearing a cloak of moss and another tree she stopped.

A few yards away, leaning against a tree trunk stood Cara.

The moon light made her red leather seem so much deeper and rich in color, her hair seemed to shine with white highlights amid the blonde. Her eyes seemed to glow a beautiful sea blue.

A warm smile moved over her lips, recognition moved through her face, and she pushed off of the tree and took a step. Kahlan found herself rushing forward, but stopped herself. Froze really, looking at Cara. Seeing all of her, and seeing the Night Wisp moving around her like a gentle blue halo.

“This is a dream.”

“It seems to be.”

“You can… you can see me?”

“Yes, Kahlan, I can see you. Standing there, the most beautiful woman I have or will ever see.”

She shook her head, feeling angry at herself. She had dreamt of Cara in the months since she had left the People’s Palace, but this time it was so vivid. She was angry because she knew waking from a dream this real would hurt in ways she did not want to imagine. She sighed, not able to help herself as she felt Cara press her thumb into the line of worry on Kahlan’s brow, and work it smooth.

“Why so angry?”

“Oh. I wonder.”

“Be angry then at me, not at yourself and not at the world. Blame me.”

She opened her eyes, seeing Cara standing so very close to her. “No. I like putting the blame where it belongs, the feet of the Creator.”

Cara laughed. “You are giving her too much credit.” She moved her hand down Kahlan’s arm to take her hand. Kahlan looked down in shock. She felt Cara’s hand in her own. Felt it. In a way that was not the same as when she dreamed of holding her hand, nor when she would envision it. Now this was something more.

“Do you… Cara?”

“Yes, Kahlan?”

“Is… is this real?” Her voice cracked with the weight of possibility.

“Well. I feel you. Do you feel me?”

“Spirits I do.”

“Kahlan…” Cara closed her eyes. “I feel you, around me, all of the time. I think of you. Of touching you. But it never feels as real as this.”

“Real.” Kahlan blinked.

“I am not dead, you are not dead, and yet we are here? How can that be?”

“How can I feel you besides me when I charge into battle, How can I feel your hand in mine when I sleep? Asking one thing is like asking another and I do not know the answers. Do you?”

Cara shook her head. “Perhaps we are not supposed to ask the why, or the how, but merely accept.”

“That is as likely as your embracing magic.”

“But you are magic, Kahlan, and I embrace you. Desperately. Completely.” She wrapped her arms around Kahlan, their bodies pressed together tightly, for just a moment. Cara, her arms still around her waist, leaned back. Her eyes widened and she looked down between their bodies. Cara had felt the slight difference. Suddenly the realization flooded Kahlan. This was not merely her having a dream. This was more. Cara’s face exhibited that. Because this was the one thing they did not write off in their short notes to one another. But clearly, as shown by the look of happiness on Cara’s face, the warmth in her eyes this was something she had wanted to know.

“You’re.”

“Yes.”

“I am so…” Cara’s eyes welled with tears. “Oh… I wish I could touch you… truly touch you.”

“Touch me Cara. This is as real as I know real to be.”

“But. I just feel asleep.”

“As did I.” Kahlan cupped her face in her hands. “The Dream Walker.”

“What?”

“I … I found her. She is in my camp… perhaps she is…” Kahlan thought it was too much of a coincidence and at the same time almost too much of a blessing to hope for.

“Is that possible?”

“Possible? I don’t know….I don’t want to know. Please, Cara? Kiss me… just kiss me?”

She did not hesitate, nor did she reply with words. One hand cupped the back of Kahlan’s neck, the other her cheek, desperately and tenderly in equal measure. And then Kahlan moaned, as lips pressed to hers. Warm, supple lips. She felt their touch on her skin; felt them inside of her heart. Kahlan’s lips pressed back. Her hands moved over the leather covering Cara’s back, and she realized how very much she missed the feeling of it. Even wearing her own leather, touching it, feeling her muscles beneath it did not compare to this. Her hands seemed to know that this was Cara, that she was the one for her. It had only been months since she had touched her, but feeling her now it made those months seem so much longer. A sob caught in her throat, and Cara moved to look her in the eyes. Unshed tears lay there, but her expression was stern.

“Kahlan, don’t…don’t think about that. Don’t think about… what is out in the world when we are awake. Stay with me. Be with me. Right here, in this place.”

Nodding she tightened her arms and kissed Cara again, molding into her body, languishing in the bittersweet taste of her mouth as their tongues touched, hesitantly at first, and then with increasing need.

Dropping to their knees, together, their lips exploring as their hands, well versed, began to pull off red leather and white linen, reducing their respective armor to piles in the grass, as hands moved over smooth flesh, caressed lines of muscle, and the softness of breasts.

Kahlan leaned back, her fingers around Cara’s neck, bringing her down with her, needing to feel skin caressing skin. Cara smiling moved with her, shrouding them for a moment in a halo of soft gold, before her lips moved to Kahlan’s ear.

“I love you.” She breathed, as her hands whispered along Kahlan’s breasts, before moving delicately along her stomach. Cara whimpered Kahlan’s name, as her mouth followed her hands.

* * * * *

She pressed her cheek to the slightly enlarged stomach, feeling the warmth the slight difference. “Your child will be so beautiful.”

“Ours. Yours and mine.”

Cara breathed in the scent of Kahlan’s skin. That unique scent that she knew by heart. Tenderly she set her lips just below Kahlan’s belly button, her eyes rising up to look plainly into warm blue. “Kahlan, you cannot fight in the war. You will go somewhere and hide. I am sure Richard knows all the neat little hiding places in the northern mountains of Westland. You will go there, and be safe.”

“Would you do that? If you were me?”

A low growl vibrated in Cara’s chest.

“It’s different.”

“No it isn’t. I am me. You are you. We are what we are.”

“I would not go away… I would do what I am. What I will.” She looked at her honestly. “I will kill. I will fight.”

“So will I Cara.”

“Not if.”

“Most especially if. I cannot have our child being born in a world that is not free.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I agree.”

She let the thoughts, the dread be pushed back again by the love she felt from Kahlan, radiating from her skin, as she brushed her cheek against her slight belly. Her skin was so warm, smooth. She set her ear against her womb, listening, wondering if she could hear their daughter’s heart beat.

Fingers moved lovingly through her hair, and she was convinced she did hear the quiet little sound of a heart. She had to swallow and move away, if she did not she knew she would begin to sob. She could feel it rising up.

She smiled softly at Kahlan, seeing the tears already in her eyes.

“I hear Prince Harold has been following you around.”

That took the tears from her eyes, and they flared blood red. “I want to kill him.”

“Oh, so do I.” Cara chuckled. “But.”

“Don’t say but.”

“BUT. I think perhaps you should bring him a little closer to you for a time. Let him think he has gained some ground.”

“Cara?” Kahlan looked shocked and perplexed.

“Let him think this child is his. Then she will have the full backing of Galea and the Midlands behind her. If any detractors think she is of Rahl, or even D’Haran blood there may come a time when they denounce her and try to usurp her power. With…with the way things are right now? That I am here, and you are there… I…Kahlan I need to know you are surrounded by as many rings of protection as possible, that you are sheltered.”

“I can protect myself.”

“Yes. I know. But… please, see where I am standing? How I feel helpless? It would bring… a certain comfort to me.”

“I… I want to bring you that comfort.”

“You do.” Cara leaned over her, their skin touching again in a way that made it shiver. “You bring that to me, but knowing she will be safe.”

“I want to argue with you and your logic.”

“You can’t.”

“No. I cannot. Besides… why argue, when I feel your skin on mine. And… and oh Spirits Cara.” She whimpered as Cara moved between her legs, as her hand trailed up her side to cup her breast. “Cara?”

“Yes, Kahlan?”

“Please know, I love you, I will always love you.”

“I know. And I love you. You are,” She cupped her cheek tenderly. “My everything.”

“I need you.”

“You have me. Whatever this is, be it just a dream or powerful magic? Know that here, you have me. Know that when you wake? You have me. You always have me. I am yours.”

Their lips moved together, tentative, and exploring. Cara gently brushed their lips together slowly, she needed to take the time to trace and savor ever nuance of Kahlan’s lips. Her finger tips traced her cheek, over her jaw, down length of her neck; she whimpered Kahlan’s name as fingers moved through her blonde hair. Deliriously their mouths and tongues danced together, to the point where Cara was losing herself completely in the tenderness, the sweet and sour taste. Their love, and their pain. The reality and the dream.

Kahlan’s mouth took hold of her tongue and pulled it deeper. She knew how that made Cara’s inside clench and ache. Her lips faintly smiled before she returned to suckling. Kahlan’s chest began heaving against her own, and she sighed into the bliss she felt as their breasts pressed together, their bodies seemed to mold perfectly. Kahlan released her reluctantly, and Cara moved to kiss her upper lip, tracing her scar with the tip of her tongue.

“Mm.” Cara opened her eyes, seeing the soft blue light moving around them, and the fluctuating white from the full moon. She blinked for a moment, having sworn that they were back in time, in the sacred forest of the Night Wisp, the first time she had kissed Kahlan like this. Her body shudder, with the memory, as well as with the moment of agony that this was not the same moment. “I… I wanted to see you like this then.” She said softly.

Kahlan opened her eyes slowly, and then she too noticed the blue lights dancing around them.

“I wanted to see you naked skin, shimmering with sweat, reflecting the blue, highlighted by the silver of the moon. I wanted you so badly Kahlan.”

“You had me then, and you have me now.” Kahlan vowed. “I love you.”

“What I told you? I meant. I mean it now, my love.” Cara whispered, her fingers moving beneath the silken sink under Kahlan’s eye. “I am on the long road now, but you are at the end. I know you are. And I will keep traveling, until I… until I… am…”

“Home.” Kahlan finished for her, eyes filling with the beauty of her tears.

She kissed her with increased need, feeling it surging through her, and Kahlan responded with the same intensity.

Kahlan arched her back, and Cara’s lips explored across the length of her neck, down over her collar bone, down to the expanse of her breasts. She inhaled deeply, as her hand cupped the firm flesh, as her mouth covered the ever hardening nipple, which she flicked with her tongue.

* * * * *

Feeling her moving over her, hands touching her reverently, caressing her skin as if she were delicate. It made Kahlan’s heart cry tears as it thundered in her chest. She wanted to merely hold on to Cara for everything she was worth and never let go, and she always wanted to feel their combined rage and passion. Lash out a circumstance by coming together roughly, hungrily.

Cara seemed to feel her conflict, so while their kisses were still tender and soft, as Cara’s fingertips traced patterns over her collar bone and shoulders, her thigh began rhythm against her center. Tentative, became earnest, became powerful. Kahlan spread her legs wider, wrapping one around Cara’s thigh. She felt herself open against Cara’s thigh and felt how wet she had become as they moved together.

“Cara.” She whimpered between kisses, and her back arched as she felt Cara press herself against Kahlan’s thigh, as they both now began to ride one another, grinding down, and building the need.

Her tongue slipped deeper inside of Cara’s mouth, and tender kisses evolved into needy passion. She thrust her tongue deeper, her mouth salivating at the thought of thrusting inside of Cara’s center.

Moans filled the misty air around them.

She lost herself in the scent and sensation of Cara, as she let her tongue explore her mouth, before breathlessly between kisses she said, “I miss you, spirits how I miss you.” Her hands moved over her back, to cup and press against her buttocks, as she writhed against skin, and needed to feel Cara doing the same. She felt Cara press harder against her thigh and she moaned, “I need you.” Her hand moved between them, and the sound Cara released as Kahlan’s fingers began to stroke her moist and swollen flesh ignited a million flames under her skin. She needed Cara, needed to drown in her. Kahlan felt her thirst, her mouth going dry at the thought, and rolled them over sharply. She looked down into Cara’s darkening eyes, the way her kiss swollen lips were parted as she panted. Kahlan licked her bottom lip, before moving down Cara’s body, until her mate’s sweet scent filled her senses. The scent of her, the sight of her moon kissed skin and the anticipation of what she was about to taste caused her to tremble and clench as her own wetness increase, gazing at the open and welcoming beauty before her.

Cara called out her name as Kahlan’s tongue pressed firmly against her throbbing clit, as she rolled it over the sensitive nub, before pulling it into her mouth, sucking, nibbling and licking as her fingers moved deep inside of her mate, and throaty moans escaped her lips. Her heart was thundering in her chest , repeating over and over how much she loved her, how much she needed her, and at how right they were. She was overwhelmed and as Cara sobbed with her release, as Kahlan swallowed and groaned at all of the bliss that coated her tongue and lips she felt herself erupting with her, feeling the release of her magic, but also the agony of needing to feel Cara’s touch, to have Cara inside of her.

* * * * *

Her eyes slammed open, and she tried to breathe, but the weight of the world of all of D’Hara seemed to be pressing against her chest. Her heart was slamming against the inside of her chest, with such voracity she thought it might give out, and her body trembled with the beautiful tension of the explosive orgasm. Cara’s eyes looked over herself, seeing the leather still on, the cold bed she lay in, and the dark room.

“No, no no no no no no.” She sobbed, tears erupting from her eyes, as she curled onto her side, and just released the torrent of pain and sadness from her soul.

What had awoken her, pulled her from the dream sounded again. Loud and angry fists slammed against her door. But no one would break through. No one would ever get through the battlements she placed around her. No one but Kahlan.

Her hand pulled the sheet to her mouth, and she bit them, as she tried in vain to breathe, to calm her tears. Cara knew pain, this pain, this pain was different and it was familiar and she sob more, knowing this would not be the end, and that this pain would only increase, would only grow with time. Because she would welcome it. Wantonly, and with open arms. She would embrace and suffer the pain, if she could have moments like those she just left; in that completely real in–between place. Between day and night, between dreams and wakefulness, between living and death; then she would gladly feel this pain.

* * * * *

Berdine watched from where she stood, beside the horses as Kahlan emerged from the tent. Her eyes seemed brighter, though her steps still weighted. She was wearing her long white dress, without her leather on today.

During the night Raina and Berdine had stayed beside the fire, talking quietly, as the Dream Walker had been casting, and then when the small girl curled into a ball beside the fire to sleep, Raina had placed a blanket over her. Berdine had watched as Raina tucked the blanket around her, at the way her eyes seemed to glisten with tears as she looked at the girl.

She had swallowed back her own thick emotion. Berdine knew, without being told, that Raina would be leaving soon. For how long, she did not know, but it was clear. Raina would be taking the girl home.

Tightening the binding on the saddle, she sighed, and watched Kahlan approach the girl, and set her hand on her shoulder. While there were no words exchanged, from the way Kahlan smiled she was thanking the Dream Walker.

Berdine hoped, in some small way, that Kahlan’s mind had been eased, that she had been able to know that Cara was alright.

* * * * *

“This is depressing.” He threw the book across the room, clearly not happy. Cara was somewhat pleased that he was annoyed. It meant she was not the only D’Haran in the room who was not happy. Certainly not after being roused from the dream world by Mistress Garren, only to be told that news had come from the front lines of the battle. Cara was well aware of the outcome of the battle. “Six and the Dream Walker are dead. Apparently the siege by the Mother Confessor was a resounding success.” His voice was thick with disappointment.

“You don’t say?” Cara replied from where she stood, slightly behind him and off to the side. It was habitual really. This was where she had always stood in the past. It felt almost comforting. She did like to keep an eye on him.

“Smug. Nice.” He glared at her. His tongue moved about the inside of his mouth as he huffed like a disappointed child. “I had hoped to use the Dream Walker. Oh well. Perhaps in another hundred years another will be born.”

Cara laughed lightly. “What is a hundred years to us now anyway.”

“Exactly!” He snapped his fingers, and the secretary handed him another journey book. She was not sure who he had writing to him, but he now had five of the books that he reviewed each morning and each evening. They never seemed to tell him what she did not already know, or had not determined on her own. While they had sent troops out to fight, she still stayed near the Palace. She was not yet convinced his intentions were pure.

Perhaps they never could be. She crossed her arms, regarding his boyish face. “Why did you wage war on the Midlands?” She asked.

He looked up from his book, “Cara, Cara, Cara. It is simple. I am evil.”

She pursed her lips.

“I wanted the boxes of Orden. I wanted ultimate power. I wanted to rule the world.” He grinned. “I will one day.”

“Because you are evil.”

“Precisely.”

She looked down at her black gloved hands. “Do you know why you lost?”

“Something to do with prophecy and an annoying sibling?”

“No.” She turned and looked at him. “Your plan was too simple.”

* * * * *

“With her dead, will the army still move on?” Kahlan asked Nicci, as she watched her packing a small saddle bag.

“Mankind wants to rule, and destroy. They are living down to their potential.” She said her back still to Kahlan. “You see, while you have your small battles and disagreements here, on your pebble? Much bigger events have been set in motion. You are a mere dot on a map that some commander has circled and already slammed his flag into, without setting foot on your soil. They do not need to. When they swarm you there will be not a thing you can do.”

“It is only a matter of time then. So we truly have no choice but this one.”

“Very astute, Mother Confessor.” She said looking at her over her shoulder.

“So you and Zedd will go to the People’s Palace, to convince him to help.”

“With any luck his sense of self preservation will motivate him. That is our hope.” She turned. “Is there something you would like to me to take? Or to say to…” Nicci did not say her name, nor finish the sentence. No one ever seemed to. At times it made her want to scream at them. Cara was not dead, she was not banished. She was merely trapped, kept away. They could say her name without fear that the Mother Confessor would shatter before them. Kahlan understood they did this out of compassion. She could not fault them for that.

She sighed, her hands coming together. “If you see her, tell her… tell her I am well?”

“Of course.” Nicci smiled and then looked back to the map she rolled up. “By the way, you should kill the Dream Walker.”

“I know.”

“But you won’t.”

“No.”

Nicci lifted the pack over her shoulder. “Which is why you may just win this war after all.”

“Do you think we can?”

“We? No. You? Yes.” Nicci moved to leave the tent, and Kahlan followed.

“Everyone believes she is dead.” Kahlan had made sure that no one saw Jillian, after that first night, and that everyone was told she had died, had killed herself, fearing torture at the hands of the Mord–Sith, or the soul shattering at the touch of the Confessor. In truth, after one night of rest, Raina had taken her fastest horse and left with the girl. It had not been until an hour after they had gone that Kahlan realized her error. She had watched Berdine looking over maps and letters, wiping angrily at her eyes. Kahlan had asked Berdine and Raina to split in half. There was never a guarantee that they would see one another again. Kahlan knew that fear, the flavor of that worry. She vowed that she would make it up to them both, somehow.

“Good.” Nicci said, her voice bringing Kahlan back from the depths of her thoughts.

They moved outside, into the heat that was already present midday. The sun was burning brightly in the thin blue sky, not a cloud anywhere that she could see. It could be considered a beautiful day, but in her honest heart, she longed for darkness, for the night, and the touch of the moon on her skin. Calming and awakening her in equal measure. The dream that she knew now she had shared with Cara was glowing inside her heart, as if a Night Wisp had found its way there.

“Kahlan.” Nicci’s voice reproached, and she blinked, looking at the blonde sorceress. She had forgotten herself again. So soon. This was unlike her. She used to pride herself on being able to steal away her emotions, her feelings. She followed Nicci’s eyes, past the small paddock where some horses were being kept, through the tents.

Prince Harold was approaching. On either side her had his most trusted advisors. His face was set in a warm smile, that did not reach his eyes.

“It’s alright.” Kahlan said softly, setting her hand on Nicci’s arm.

“While I think he is, for the most part harmless, he is an arrogant man, and if I have learned anything during my life, it is that arrogant men do not like when something is kept from them. Something of value to their eye.”

“You are not wrong.”

“Then why?”

“Prince Harold has something of value that I want.” Kahlan said calmly, recalling the logic to Cara’s words. “It will be fine. Please. I hope you and Zedd have a pleasant journey, and that you manage to convince Darken Rahl to help. While I am still uneasy about the idea of it, I am willing to admit that I see no other option.”

“Be safe, Mother Confessor.”

“Thank you, Mistress Nicci.”

She nodded and then moved towards her horse.

Slowly she turned back around, her hands clasped and laying over her stomach, accenting it. Prince Harold’s smile widened, as she knew it would, and she bit her cheek to keep her expression even. He made a grand show of bowing before her.

“Thanks to the Spirits that you appear in good heath this morning, Mother Confessor.”

“Yes. Thanks. And for you as well. I read the reports. The Calvary did amazing work on the southern front.”

“Those bastards see us coming and don’t know what to expect.”

“Let us hope they learn to expect death.” She added.

“Agreed.” He looked pointedly at her belly. “I dare say, you seem to be glowing.”

“I believe I am, yes.”

“Will it be made official? Rumors are beginning. Perhaps…” he looked at her, his eyes almost resembling those of apology, but not quite yet making it that far. He still believed that she was carrying his child. Which as Cara had said, would be very beneficial.

“What is done is done.” Kahlan said evenly, neither confirming nor denying what he wanted to believe.

“I am so glad to hear you say that. So. Are you pleased?” He asked, moving to touch her belly. Kahlan stood and moved away.

“I am very pleased. I am thrilled that I am with child.” She said, her eyes focused on the faint blue of the sky, not him. She was thrilled. She was elated. Every moment of every day she felt the life inside of her growing, and she knew that life was there because of the love and commitment she shared with Cara. Cara was the joint creator of the life inside of her. Not this man. Not any man. Her lover, her mate, her life. Kahlan’s hand moved over her belly. She was happy. This daughter would be born and she would be strong. Great. Just like her mother.

“Announcements will be sent immediately. The people of Galea will rejoice, knowing that they will have a new princess soon, and that the Mother Confessor she will be one day.”

“Yes. They will rejoice, and they will look to her with pride. Won’t they?” She asked.

“They will, darlin. I promise they will.” For the first time his smile seemed genuine. Kahlan thought it a pity that it came too late.

* * * * *

Cara had noticed the shadow circling before the large black eagle landed, some fifty yards from where she sat on the cliff face. Below her the ocean churned and rolled. Crashing into the cliffs with the strength of an armada of cannons, it made the rocks she sat on vibrate faintly. A fall from this height would be certain death. Sitting and looking down at the black and silver sea, as the full moon traveled over her shoulders she had debated that outcome. For a moment. Which, after she imagined the cool soothing water, left her mind. She normally did not give into fanciful thoughts such as death. Death for a Mord–Sith was a moment in time, that moment between not breathing, the flames of the Underworld, and breathing again. It held no permanence, and therefore it possessed no power. When one does not fear, then one is not controlled. Cara never feared death. She did not wish for it either. She rather enjoyed living, and the experiences it provided.

The bird ruffled his feathers and hopped. But did not come closer. He was being annoying.

“Either fly away or come and sit. The hesitation is grating.” Cara said lightly, her eyes moving back to the sea.

He goaded, “After you left, one of our ambassadors wrote to me.”

Cara rolled her eyes.

“It seems as though the Mother Confessor has been seen in Ebinissia.”

Her eyes jumped to him. She didn’t want them too, but they did. Days were bleeding into weeks, and months would soon begin to pass. The passage of time already felt different to her, when she was within the walls of the People’s Palace. Which was why she ventured out, more and more. To be rid of the sinking feeling.

“I thought you would be interested. Also quite interesting. She appears to be in the full and radiant bloom of her pregnancy.”

Cara’s jaws clenched.

“He wrote that she met with the army that is protecting the city, and they were all so very pleased to see not only the Mother Confessor, but to see her looking so healthy carrying the child of their beloved Prince Harold. I wonder Cara, how does that make you feel?”

“Feel? Mord–Sith do not feel.”

“Oh of course. How very silly of me to even imply that you would have feelings.” It was he who rolled his eyes. Cara preferred to look back at the ocean, or the black leather gloves on her hands. “It is peaceful here.”

She looked at him incredulously.

“It is. I don’t feel so heavy.”

Cara looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I am sure someone has mentioned this, but you are getting soft.”

“I am not.”

“You are. Do you really need that second honey laced pastry?”

“I like them.” Darken Rahl said obstinately.

“Clearly.”

“Cara?”

“What.” She snapped.

“We are bickering like an old married couple.”

“No we aren’t.”

“Oh yes. We are.”

She growled. “I hate you.”

“See!” He laughed and bumped his shoulder into hers, as if they were special friends. She wondered if it would hurt. When she tossed him down past the rocks. When he smashed into the surf below. Thankfully he was quiet for a moment or two, which allowed her to decide against killing him. For now at least. “I meant heavy with responsibility. I feel like it is my duty to ensure the people of D’Hara are safe and happy. It is very annoying.”

“Don’t pretend like you somewhat enjoy these feelings of responsibility and the need to protect. It grates at you. I am not some naive woman you are courting, Lord Rahl. I know you better than most. “

“Mm. You do. Or you did. You were right. This body will take some time to adjust to its… differences.” He sighed. “But the magic.” Slowly a fireball appeared in the palm of his hand, which he flipped and rolled across his knuckles to the other hand. “Is promising. Still.” He closed his fist around the flame, extinguishing it. “These… urges? They are troublesome.”

“It is the Palace.”

“What?” He asked.

“It is the People’s Palace that makes you feel that way.”

“I’ve lived there my whole life and never batted an eye when slicing the throat of a scullery maid as she preformed felatio on her knees. But now the thought makes me pause.” He smiled. “Only pause of course.”

“Of course.” She looked back to the sea. “You are connected to the Palace itself. And me. And the both of us are alive. And enjoy tormenting you.”

“This was not part of my grand plan.”

“Perhaps it is time you looked for a way to reverse the spell then? Then you would be free of the pesky feelings of humanity, of compassion.”

“You would like that wouldn’t you?”

“Like? Like is akin to feelings Lord Rahl. Of which I have none.”

“Your posturing is tiresome. I know you have feelings. You always have. You know all of your year, those Mord–Sith have given me nothing but trouble. I knew I should have slaughtered the whole lot of you when I realized what had happened.”

“Happened?”

“Perhaps there was something in the water that year. Or where you were taken from. All of you retained these… odd character flaws.”

“Yes. Blame it on that. Not on the fact that we all evolved beyond the fear and the blind acceptance. You do know, there is nothing special. About Berdine, Hally, myself? The others? Those who surrounded you today, they all have the same thing within them. They have a soul.”

He huffed.

“I just decided to follow my instincts.”

He crossed his arms and looked out over the sea, quietly, strangely for a moment. “Nicci arrived.”

“I know.” Cara did know. She had spoken to Nicci in the courtyard, and hearing of their triumphs and of Kahlan was what pushed Cara to take flight. To come here, just beyond the Mord–Sith Temple where they had conceived their daughter. To sit. To be alone. Or so she had hoped.

“She has a plan.”

Cara waited.

“To use magic to raise the Barrier.” He pulled a small book from his robe. “Inside this book is a prophecy. It was taken from the Imperial Order’s camp. From Six’s own tent. I read it. There is mention of what you and I did. But there is nothing written about raising the Barrier.”

“Which would mean?”

“An unseen action. At least by whoever wrote this book.”

Cara looked at the book, and then him sternly. “An unseen action means that perhaps the Imperial Order is unaware of the possibility, and it may just be what can push them back. You know, if you still want them pushed back. If you still want to win.”

“Of course I want to win!” He grumbled, and shoved the book back in his pocket.

“You will help them then.”

“When you act stupid, it makes me sad. And a kitten somewhere dies. So please. Don’t play stupid. You know I will.” He set his hands in his lap. His irritating voice was replaced by the soothing sea below them. Until he had to speak again. He loved the sound of his own voice apparently. “I miss hurting people. I miss gutting them and reading their secrets, their entrails in my hands.”

Cara raised her brow at him.

“’With the aid of the dark shall come the light, and all life will be redefined.’ I think perhaps I was short sighted.” He sighed as he recited the line from the prophecy. Slowly he stood back up.

“You think?” Cara asked, a lilt in her voice.

“The world is changing. All around me. And.” He started to walk away. “Once we raise the barrier in the south, it will change even more.”

“Yes. It will.” Cara sighed, looking back at the vast ocean. Full of life and death. Possibilities and certainties. Constant change.

Part 33

She stood, her back straight, her gloved fingers interlocked behind her back, looking out the massive windows across the plains. Dust devils were swirling in the afternoon light, as the cold air came down from the mountains to slam into the winter heat from the dusty soil. They spun, small little vortexes, dancing with one another, until they collided. Sometimes they became bigger, other times they obliterated each other. Cara watched, her face without expression, because inside, behind the mask her soul was like those dust devils. Her doubt and her darkness were twirling and dancing, colliding and warring with her love and her faith. It had been nine months now. Nine months since the night in the Temple. Time was constant, and moved. Time and distance became a curved blade moving under her skin. Removing strips of it with each passing day. She forced the doubt and the darkness to slam together to obliterate each other, so she could be left with peace. With the calm love and faith she had in Kahlan.

Nine months.

That morning a humming in her ear woke her, and blinking for a moment to clear her mind of dreams Cara sat up. The room was the same; the moment seemed like every other she had experienced. A long string of existence. The faint blue light before her eyes couldn’t be real. And yet, as she opened her palm the light sat on her skin. And the humming increased, and her body was flooded with feeling. “Kahlan.” Cara had sobbed, feeling her mate near. Knowing it wasn’t true, but not caring as the tears rolled down her face. And she closed her eyes, and listened to the words of the Night Wisp, hearing the tale of battles waged in her name, and of all the moments Kahlan thought of her. The depth of Kahlan’s love. This Night Wisp had come all of this way, and would soon perish. But inside of her she had carried Kahlan’s emotions, her feelings and her thoughts. Then Cara’s eyes had opened wide. She looked to the small creature in her hand, to see its brilliant blue light waning, slipping away as was its life. It had given it’s all, just to come to her, to tell her, to share with her the beautiful glory that was her daughter’s birth. It was as though she too had been there, kneeling beside Kahlan in the safety of the Night Wisp forest, as their daughter, Carys, was born. She knew she was smiling, as the tears rolled down her face, as her heart broke and beat at the same time.

Cara closed her eyes.

The darkness and the doubt, the anger and the pain at not being there, not holding Kahlan, not seeing their daughter surged and spun. It twirled with enough force to make her sway. And her love, her understanding, their bond, and the truth turned and gained ground. Became a massive and destructive force inside of her. The two halves continued to battle, and wage their own war inside of her body.

She willed her thoughts to quiet. And she willed her own mind to focus on one thing. One thing.

Kahlan.

She felt pressure building inside her head, felt her eyes close and she saw stars, and she focused any magic, any power she had outward, flinging it away from herself. Sending, if she could, three words to Kahlan, where ever she may be.

“I love you.”

“Mistress Cara?” the voice interrupted her thoughts, her dark and soothing mood.

“What is it, Garren?” She asked, not needing to turn to know the Mord–Sith stood at attention behind her.

“In accordance with Lord Rahl’s order, the new batch of trainees has been delivered.”

Cara winced, and did not turn, did not allow the other woman to see the pain on her face.

“He has requested that you be in charge of the initial training. The first breaking.”

“I am sure he did.” Cara turned then, knowing even Kahlan would be proud of her ability to shield her emotions. “I will not…ever…be party to that.”

“He commanded.”

Cara backhanded her, swiftly and mercilessly. The woman crumbled to her knees.

“Who is in charge here?”

Keeping her eyes to the stone floor Garren murmured, “You are.”

“Yes. I am. Do not forget that.”

“Yes Mistress.” Her reply followed Cara as she walked slowly back down the long hallway, finding comfort in the shadows. She wanted to retreat into them, to retreat into her thoughts of Kahlan. It was as if, since waking that morning she knew. Today was a special day.

* * * * *

Her flat palms slammed into the wall, as her body had spun from the force of the impact. Her face burned from the connection of the armored glove on her cheek. Her right hand balled into a fist and she punched the wall, knowing the ancient brick cracked under her strike, and she turned back around, to glare into the nearly black eyes of the Mord–Sith standing there. Her face was hard, but Berdine’s heart was harder.

“You are ordered to return to the People’s Palace.”

“Never.”

“You are Mord–Sith Berdine. This is your life. There are no options here. There is doing as commanded. Nothing more.”

“Then you do not understand a thing about the world. About what it means to be Mord–Sith.”

“I have been instructed to kill you, if you do not return.”

“Then I suppose I should ask you, did you enjoy the sunrise this morning?”

“Why?”

“It was your last.” Berdine growled, kicked the Mord–Sith in the head, sending her across the chamber. “Where is Raina?” She screamed down at the woman who was blinking, blood emerging from her mouth and nose.

“Dead.”

“NO!” Berdine sat up, the scream caught in her throat.

“Nightmare?” A voice asked from beside her. She looked up to see the Mother Confessor, concern on her face. She was sitting at her desk, dressed in her white gown, and she seemed to radiate calm and safety.

She brushed her hand against her cheek, pushing away the tears there, “Yes.” She admitted shamefully.

“It… whatever it was, I am sure it was just a dream.”

“Raina.” She whispered. The nightmares were a constant. All Mord–Sith experienced them, to varying degrees. Though in the months that Raina had been gone, Berdine’s nightmares had taken on a cruelty. Of her being unable to see Raina. Or being kept from her. Berdine knew that her mind was absorbing her own concern and that of the Mother Confessor. She was feeling her emotions and her sadness.

It had become stronger since they had journeyed together deep into the forests of the Rang’Shada Mountains, the feeling and the realization of how difficult this must be. How hard for the Mother Confessor and for Cara. Berdine had sobbed the day Carys was born. She had been told to wait outside a thick ring of ancient trees that pulsed with magic and foreboding. Berdine had found waiting to be worse than many different techniques of torture she had been subjected to over the course of her life. She had been wearing black Mord–Sith leather, for the very first time, and had decided to lash out at her gloves. Pacing back and forth between the trees, the gloves were balled in her fist as she clenched and unclenched her hands. The feeling of that place unsettled Berdine, as had the screams that had danced through the night. There had been a dozen or more times when she had jumped, and nearly stepped through the ring of trees, through the shadow of magic and run to Kahlan. The only thing that held her back, rooted her to the ground was the warning. Clear and honest. If she were to step into that sacred place she would die. And Berdine refused to die. Her own innate stubbornness would not allow her to die. Not yet. Not without seeing Raina again. So she had paced, her body taunt, her hands clenching and unclenching. Until a twig snapped. At that moment, as she turned she was certain that if her heart was not already beating inside of Raina’s chest it would have stopped. The Mother Confessor had appeared ethereal. She had smiled sadly as she came closer, the gloves fell to the ground, forgotten, Berdine’s eyes were transfixed on the small pink body the Mother Confessor had held in her arms, wrapped in the softest red linen. Berdine’s heart had ached for Cara, wishing she could have been standing there in her place, to see this moment. To experience it. The Mother Confessor had extended her arms and the child in them to her, asking if Berdine would like to hold her. Which she most certainly did not. Someone as big and clumsy as her would break such a small and fragile thing. And she had said as much. Not that it mattered. The child had been thrust into her arms. Berdine had blinked with astonishment at the life in her arms, bright eyes looking up at her, and her little fingers curling and then uncurling against the leather she wore. “Her name is Carys.” Kahlan had said softly, as her fingertip touched her daughter’s cheek. “Carys Amnell. Princes of Galea, and one day, she will be Mother Confessor.”

Her hand moved to her face, and she rubbed away the cobwebs of dreams, and memory, along with the haze of the dread from her skin. “Mother Confessor?”

“Kahlan.” She stressed once again.

“Kahlan?”

“Yes, Berdine?”

The dread of the nightmare clung to her, and it held the sword of darkness in its hand. In her dream, as well as in her heart, Berdine knew she wanted blood. She wanted to break bones and watch her enemy bleed in pain. “Am I a monster?”

“What?” Kahlan asked, setting her pen down between the pages of the book.

“I… I have done things. So many terrible things… and I feel as though I will be punished. In this life and the next, I should not be granted a moment’s peace or kindness for what I have done.”

“How can you be a monster?” Kahlan asked and then gestured to the small bundle who lay sleeping in the crook of Berdine’s arm. “She does not think you a monster. Nor does Raina, nor do I.”

“This one? She just doesn’t know me yet.” Berdine said, her finger tip moving over the sleeping infant’s cheek.

“Give her time.”

“I do not think you should lead the serge. Let someone else do it. I know, you take your daughter to Aydindril and I will lead the Calvary?”

“Berdine. We need you. She will need someone who can protect her from magic. Someone who knows what a Confessor can do.”

“How many times must I tell you? I am Mord–Sith. No female child is safe with me.”

“She will be. I trust you Berdine. To raise her. To care for her.”

Berdine’s throat snapped with her swallow. When Kahlan spoke this way, when her words and the resignation in her face spoke to the truth, that she may not live to see the end of the war, terror grew inside of Berdine. The world needed the Mother Confessor in it. It needed her sense of honor and duty. To think of a world without her, was to think of a world that was flipped and turned inside out where nothing would make sense. “No. That is what you must do. Forsake the war. We will fight in your name. You need to take her and return home.”

“When the war is won? I will return home. We will find a way to break the oath, and Cara will come home. We will be a family. Until then? Protect her? Love her?”

“Kahlan please. Don’t do this.”

“I already have, Berdine.” Kahlan smiled.

“Cara is not going to like this.”

“Who do you think gave me the idea? Now, hush. You’ll wake her.”

* * * * *

There was something about the sound of leather striking flesh that soothed her. Even when it was done to annoy her, it still had that delicate quality of calm. Her eyebrow raised slightly as Raina did it again, slapped her gloves against her bare hand.

Raina stood beside her as they looked across the Kern River to see the encampment there, were the Mother Confessor’s troops had set up two nights ago. When Cara and the Third Battalion met up with General Reibisch the night before she had not realized that the two armies were separated by the massive river and the canyon it ran between. She could see the glow of fires, and movements as people moved about the camp, but she knew she would not be able to see Kahlan. Kahlan was far to the south, moving quickly against the tides and beaches of the ocean. Her message this morning was that she had found a solution to the pressing problem. Emperor Jagang had requested a meeting with the Mother Confessor, Lord Rahl, and the Seeker. His invitation spoke in gentle tones, of putting aside arms and coming to a peaceful surrender. They all knew it was a trap, but they also knew that they could spring a trap of their own.

“Will she be traveling to the rendezvous?” Cara asked.

“Yes.”

Cara gritted her teeth, knowing she could not be there. They were meeting in the Midlands, and where she stood now, on the edge of the canyon, on the edge of D’Haran soil was as far west as she could travel. Rage bubbled inside of her guts, burning her throat.

“I need to kill someone.”

“Funny. Kahlan said the same thing just before I left.”

Cara laughed. “Well tomorrow we will both get our wish.” She shook her head as Raina slapped her glove again. “You can go back, you know.” Cara said, feeling the other Mord–Sith’s annoyance.

“I know. And I will. Eventually.”

“Eventually could be now. I do not need someone to watch over me.”

“No? I think some of us would argue that point. You do have a way of getting into trouble when you are left alone.”

Her arms crossed. “Never. I do not get into trouble, I merely… act.”

“Ah, yes. So very right, Mistress. Whatever was I thinking?”

“How is…”

“She is as well as can be expected. When I left she seemed so very focused, every moment is spent in planning, preparing, and sparring.”

“Sparring?” Cara asked, her eyebrows conveying her interest.

“Yes. She and Berdine go at it for hours.”

Cara felt her eyes narrow and a deep flush of red move under her skin. Jealousy and anger merged. While she knew better, and she knew full well that Raina was poking at her with a stick of what ifs, she still felt it bubble under her skin.

“Though I think she will soon find someone else.”

“Oh?”

Raina winked. “Berdine pulls her punches.”

“Kahlan hates that.”

“I am well aware.” Cara smiled, the jealousy moving to a low simmer. “How is… did you see?”

Raina looked behind them, at the D’Haran camp. Darken Rahl was there, in the middle of it all, his favorite Mord–Sith and concubines catering to him as he, Zedd, Nicci, Richard, and the Prelate Vera poured over ancient texts and spells. Cara had left as quickly. It not only made her head hurt to hear them talking of magic, but to see them all, around the table, and not see Kahlan, it had been too strange.

“Your daughter is adorable. Which I believe is due in part to the Mother Confessor alone. You could not be party to anything adorable.”

“Hm.”Cara pursed her lips in agreement.

“Berdine thinks she may begin walking soon.” Raina said off handedly, and then slapped her glove against her palm again.

Cara sighed, her eyes moving along the camp, wondering so many things. So much she could not experience firsthand, but learned through notes left nightly in the journey book by Kahlan, and those letters sent between commanders.

Cara too wanted to change the subject. “Did you kill the Prince yet?”

“She forbids it. I noticed Nyda sulking about. I did not expect to ever see her out of the dungeons. But there she is, and every time I turn around she is watching you.”

“As she has been instructed to by Lord Rahl.”

“Oh, I think it is more than that.”

“No it isn’t.” Cara said firmly. “She is to keep watch, to see if you brought… my daughter with you.”

“Does he think we are that stupid?”

“Lord Rahl thinks every one besides him is stupid.”

“Are you sure that is all? That you could not trust her? You could use an ally. I would of course suggest myself, but I hate you.”

“I am well aware of that fact. Besides, Berdine would be less than pleased to be away from you.”

“Hmmm.”

“hmmm?”

“She… is conflicted.”

“Berdine?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“Nightmares again.”

“She needs you, Raina.”

“She has me.”

Cara turned to her. “No. She needs you. Once the siege is over, take her away.”

“Oh yes, and we shall leave the Mother Confessor and your daughter unprotected?”

“Take her with you then.” Cara growled and stepped away, moving further up the river’s edge.

“You know we cannot just up and leave, and that Kahlan would never go along with us.”

“I know what it is like to be plagued by the nightmares, the demons. I know Berdine’s terror.” She looked over her shoulder. “You know what you need to do.”

“I have not done that…to her.”

“Never?”

“Once.”

“Raina…” Her voice left all the words unsaid.

“How do you stop the nightmares?”

“My own?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t. I embrace them. I have learned that to feel something is better than feeling nothing. Besides, my lust for blood will be sated soon enough.”

“Yesterday’s squirmish wasn’t enough?”

“Please. That was just a prelude. Tomorrow we will bath in their blood.” Cara smiled mischievously.

* * * * *

Rikka wasn’t sure why she was holding her breath, it just seemed as though she should. And so she did. She held it and didn’t move as slowly, methodically the Mother Confessor prowled around her, eyes moving up and down her body, like she was prey before the starving hunter.

“I don’t know.” Orsk said from the corner of the tent.

Kahlan crossed her dark leather clad arms, and turned her head in a way that made her long hair fall over her shoulder. “I actually think it is perfect.”

Rikka let out the breath she had been holding.

“But if any of the others there know you they could give her away.” Berdine said.

“You worry too much Berdine. If she.” Kahlan reached up and lifted the white hood and set it over Rikka’s head. “Wears it like this? I don’t think they will be able to tell the difference. What do you think, Rikka?”

“I think I am terrified. How can you wear this? Are you worried that every step will get some dirt or grim on it? I mean it is so very white.” She huffed, her hands moving over the tight white bodice of the Confessor’s gown.

“It is not just any white material.” Kahlan said.

“It’s magic?” Rikka knew her eyes went wide. No one had mentioned that the dress was spelled.

She laughed softly. “I don’t know about magic. It is treated with some oils, so that most dirt rolls off.”

“Hmm.” Rikka frowned.

“Are you sure you want to do this? You know it will be a trap.” She said honestly, her deep blue eyes searching Rikka’s.

“Which is why it should be me.”

“I thought we decided it was you because your breasts are similar.” Hally said from where she sat in the corner, using the tip of her knife to clean beneath her nails. “That’s why Berdine can’t do it. Her breasts are far too large.”

“I am right here!” Berdine grumbled.

“What is it with you and your obsession with breasts?” Rikka sputtered.

Hally shrugged and displayed her impish smile.

Her eyes moved again to the mountain of a man who stood in the corner, his eye watching her closely. Rikka’s heart skipped when Hally stood and went to stand in front of him.

“I say we arm wrestle.” She heard Hally challenge, followed by Orsk’s low laugh. With him distracted, Rikka leaned closer to Kahlan.

“You need to confess Orsk.” She whispered. The blue eyes looking back at her were stunned. Though it was common knowledge that the large D’Haran was free of confession, he still stayed; he still fought and followed the Mother Confessor.

“Why?”

“He is no longer confessed.”

“I know that, but why should I confess him again? Did he touch you?”

“No. Well, yes. He, He is a fool and he thinks he is in love with me.”

“Oh Rikka!” She exclaimed a little too loudly, so Rikka’s fingers went around the Mother Confessor’s arm and yanked.

“No ‘oh Rikka’. This is bad. I am dead. He cannot love me. I cannot love him. If you confess him, then he won’t care.”

“Care about what?”

“When I die.”

Kahlan swallowed, and slowly her eyes closed. Rikka knew her words were harsh, but they were true. And she felt as though she could ask this one favor of the Mother Confessor. Not that she was owed anything, but because the Kahlan would understand. When blue eyes looked at her again, they nodded.

“For you.”

“Thank you.” Rikka smiled, and Kahlan returned it.

Kahlan’s lips and eyes turned up in a hard smile. “It is time for us to teach the Imperial Order that little lesson. That the female is deadlier than the male. That Mord–Sith are not to be discounted.” She set her hand on Rikka’s shoulder. “May the spirits protect you.”

“And you, Mistress Kahlan.”

* * * * *

Zedd grabbed the reins of her horse and held on. She glared down at him. Morning was quickly approaching and she needed to be in position. She did not have time to talk with Zedd, or be lectured by him. There were far more important things going on.

With the way his eyebrows bounced and his lips were pulled thin Cara was fairly certain that Zedd had been waiting a very long time to give her this lecture. Nearly an entire year in fact. She sighed.

“What you did was foolish, reckless.”

Her glare conveyed that she was well aware, and he should have expected no less.

“Where ever did you get the notion to use the Blood Oath? Mord–Sith deplore magic.”

She shifted on the back of her horse. “It is amazing the things one can find, when moving about the Wizard’s Keep.”

“The Keep. YOU WENT INTO THE KEEP?!” He exclaimed.

“I did. Often. Doesn’t that just get your hackles to rise? To think, a Mord–Sith moving about your sacred halls, venturing into your private chambers? Why imagine all of the things one could do, could find.” Her eyes burned into him.

Just as she felt Lord Rahl’s eyes burning into her at that moment. Without looking she knew Darken Rahl was standing beside Nicci and Richard behind her. They needed to leave now as well, to travel south and prepare the spells. She could feel them all looking at her. It made her skin tremble under her leather.

Zedd blinked.“I… yes. I do not like that at all. There are dangerous and powerful magics strew about.”

“There are. I was careful.”

“And not once afraid of walking into some light web and dying?”

“Someone needed to do something.”

He swallowed, and his eyes dropped. “We have not yet had time to find a solution.”

“And delaying me this morning to tell me that vital bit of nothing? Not making me any more pleased.”

“Kahlan and her troops have traveled down the oceans’ edge. They will turn and come back north, while in the Old World. Be very careful that during the battle you do not cross into the Old World and that you stay clear of her.”

“In the middle of a skirmish, no matter how bored I may become I am not foolish enough to die merely because of a misstep Zedd.”

“Well, if someone were to force you.”

“If someone can manage to do that, then I deserve to die.”

“You need to live, and stay strong, Cara.”

“Yes I know, so you can use Lord Rah’s magic to help with the spell. I am impetuous. Not an idiot.”

“We miss you.”

“Well, that is to be expected.”

She yanked the reins away, and urged her horse to step away from the Wizard. “Perhaps someone will find the time to sort out my little mess, once the war is over?”

“You have my word, Cara.”

She would rather have his actions, but didn’t bother voicing that.

* * * * *

The main entrance to the massive tent was open, and Rikka, as well as General Reibisch, Hally stepped inside. They, by instruction, told the guards and Mord–Sith to wait outside for them. Inside the air was thick and wet with body heat and sickly sweet incense. It was trying to mask the smell of boiling meats and sweating skin. It didn’t accomplish it’s intent, only seemed to highlight it. For Rikka, after being submerged within the Imperial Order for a year she was accustomed to the smell. In fact it was familiar to her now. As they walked past young boy, wearing only loin clothes and the lines of whipping scars across their chests, past women wearing nothing at all but dull gold rings through their bottom lips, she was familiar as well with the man who sat behind a long table. Laid out before him was a massive breakfast meal, only partially eaten. Rikka had observed this man, this supposed great Emperor many times over the months. She had watched him carefully, picking apart his flaws and weaknesses. Which there were many. The most glaring, was his arrogance. Emperor Jagang was a stout man of average height with massive arms and chest. His head was shaved bald, increasing his already imposing appearance. He was large yes, but he could easily fit into Orsk’s shadow. His vanity was displayed by a gold ring halfway up his left ear which was connected to another gold ring on the flare of his left nostril by a thin gold chain. Half a dozen gold and jeweled chains were prominently displayed on his massive chest and his thick fingers bore gold and silver rings. The people of the Old World, the followers of the Order lived hand to mouth, were taught that any ornament, anything they had was gluttonous and an insult to the Creator. And their leader adorned himself in jewels. He gorged on feasts daily, the remnants were not given to his citizens, his troops, but were fed to his dogs or left to rot. Emperor Jagang was the epitome of what his own voice spoke out against. Somehow he managed, with his sloppy appearance and his intellect, to convince millions to follow his command. He was masterful in his ability to poison minds into serving him. Emperor Jagang did not care about his men as long as they were loyal and served him to their dying breath. Well, Rikka knew, on this day many would be giving that loyalty to him.

“I am so very pleased you could grant my request. Mother Confessor, Lord Rahl, Mistress Cara.” He used a small stick to pick meat from his teeth. “I see he Seeker denied my invitation.”

“The Seeker is still in Westland, and could not make it in time.” Rikka said, forcing herself to keep from smiling. This greasy creature was as stupid as they had thought.

“Pity. Not that it matters. I will see him soon enough, and add his men and kingdom to that of the Empire.”

“So you have said.”

“Your attitude is overconfident. You know, Mother Confessor, I don’t like the fact that you people took it upon yourself to slaughter my wife. There will be consequences.”

“As there are consequences for you coming into my kingdom and slaughtering my innocent people.”

“Innocent?” He spit. “Your innocent people were defiling themselves, they were gluttonous and turned their back on the Creator. They were living in abhorrent hedonism. We are saving them. In death they are now with the Creator, in the better place.”

Rikka’s eyes became hard. “Then so is your Empress. Though, I am more inclined to believe she is polishing the boots of the Keeper.”

“Watch your tongue woman.”

“I would rather have yours, to hang upon my wall.”

“You fool.” He smiled, his rotting teeth flashing. For an instant Rikka missed her power as a Mord–Sith. She craved the song of the Agiel as she gripped it, longed for the way it would lance her with pain as she pressed it into this man’s skin, breaking his bones. She knew, she could feel, that what awaited him would be fitting, and would be more powerful than what she would have been able to provide him. Still she lifted her chin proudly, knowing that she, Rikka, was the one standing before him.

The golden dagger hissed through the air. She watched it come. She did not move out of the way. Because, she knew, this was her duty.

It slammed into her chest, beside her heart.

Rikka looked down at it, seeing the deep red of her blood spreading out through the white material of the Confessor’s gown. General Reibisch pulled his sword, but as he moved forward, one of Emperor Jagang’s guards was behind him, a long curved knife slicing his throat. Hally moved to her side, but an arrow through her chest knocked her back. Rikka’s eyes followed the young blonde, to see her hit the ground, her lips pulled back in a smile. With a calm finality Hally tossed a small orb to Rikka. She caught it, and turned back to Empoerer Jagang.

Rikka’s eyes narrowed. “You lived down to what we expected from you.”

“We? You are dead. You just don’t know it yet.”

“I have been dead for some time.” Rikka said, feeling the deep weakness moving through her limps. Knowing that the blood that coated the dress she wore had been borrowed, and knowing that her body was almost empty. The time was almost at hands. “The Mother Confessor proudly denies your insanity. You wanted war, Jagang, you have your wish. A real war, not the murdering of innocent people. A war led by a woman, the Mother Confessor. A war without quarter. The Imperial Order will be slaughtered like the feral pigs you are. I will give your wife a swift kick when I see her in the Underworld.” Her knees gave out and she dropped, slowly to the ground. She could taste the blood in her smile, giving him and his wide eyes a stubborn grin. He rose from behind his table. Realization grew in his beady eyes. “It’s fitting. I was the one who sent her there.”

Her fist closed around the small orb the Wizard had created, tightly, shattering the thin glass, and releasing the light web. As her vision turned to white, the last thing she heard were the Emperor’s impotent screams.

* * * * *

Kahlan leaned over the withers of Nick as he galloped. She did not need to urge him, he found his own momentum, and kept moving onward, faster and faster, as if he too was anxious to launch them into the center of the chaos ahead. Her thigh muscles were straining as she was pressing her weight forward. Her mind was filled with the pulsing of her blood, and the earth shook with the thunder of the hooves behind her, the massive force of the Galean Calvary.

From the center of the enemy camp a harsh white light bloomed in the shape of a massive dome, reaching out, covering tents and men, before with a resounding and earth trembling roar it collapsed on itself, and everything that had been there was now ash inside of a crater. The light web had been activated. One of the most deadly of spells. Which meant Rikka was successful, which meant as well that she, and the others were dead.

Rage and vengeance widened Kahlan’s eyes.

Her left fist gripped the reins; the right lifted her sword high.

She cried out with the surge of emotions that raged inside of her, and she slammed her sword into the dark shape of a man, the first of the day as she broke through the edge of Imperial Order’s encampment. With the impact of the sword’s blade against bone her arm felt the jarring at the same time the hilt stung her palm.

The increasingly familiar sting that fueled her rage.

Her body was tight, all of her muscles prepared and hungry for the strain that would come. She smelt death in the air, blood. Inside of her she could feel the latent darkness and hunger from the long sleeping Mord–Sith stretch her arms and purr with contentment at awakening. As the enemy’s cries announced their arrival, she met them with all of her strength. Her sword came down, again and again, slashing bodies, destroying any flesh that was within her reach.

* * * * *

Death’s symphony filled the air. As living shadows materialized out of the thick mist of morning, they moved along the banks of the Kern River, between long chilled fires, tents, bedrolls, shadows bringing death without mercy. Ringing steel, the tearing of canvas, the splintering of wood and bone, the moan of leather, hollow thuds of flesh hitting the cold ground, a crescendo as fire bust to life, and the aria of screams merged into the roaring symphony of terror. Cara watched it all playing out before her, as she sat atop her black warhorse. An arrow was pulled back, and her eyes were moving watching the dance. Her eyes like an eagle, focused. Her shadows moved through the sleeping enemy, the Third Battalion in their black leather, happily carrying out her command. Kill every one. This was not to be an ethical battle, this was war and they were giving back to the Imperial Order exactly what they had brought into the New World. They roamed the land like wild beasts, and her troops slaughtered them as such.

Cara’s eyes found an acceptable target, he threw open the flap to his tent, pulling on his sword with one hand. His bald head glistened in the light from the fire that burned the large supply wagon. Without a care she released the arrow. It hit its mark, landing in his throat, and he fell back.

One down. She had given up hope months ago, that killing all of their commanders and generals would matter. It seemed that for each man they slaughtered, another ten replaced him. The Imperial Order was a swarm, it seemed with no end.

Lacking hope did not mean Cara was lacking determination. It merely meant there would be much more killing to be done. She urged her horse on, trampling through and over anyone in her path. The sound of a hundred hooves followed her, as the additional troops, along with Mord–Sith in their blood red leather followed her into the fray.

She pulled the long sword from where it lay beside her horse’s saddle, swinging it at anything that moved close enough to her. A man lunged toward her, and Cara easily split his skull. The sun was just beginning to touch the distant horizon, soon it would help to blind the enemy, as she and her troops attacked from the east.

“No mercy!” She cried, and all around her the voices of the troops called back.

“No mercy!”

* * * * *

She had to see. Just for a moment. Her horse pawed at the wet sand, and the waves were receding with the dawn. She had promised they would leave immediately, once the light filled the sky. But Berdine needed to see.

She looked towards the battle field. She could not see it from here, but was sure that she heard the clamor. Perhaps it was just in her mind. But the sound of steel against steel vibrated in her bones. When it happened she squinted her eyes, seeing the intense white light cresting over the line of land. Her heart skipped a beat.

Raina was on that battlefield. As were every single person she cared for.

A soft cry erupted from her arms, and she looked down as Carys fussed, as if she heard Berdine’s thoughts, felt her concern.

“Hush hush you. No crying.” She rocked the small child in her arms, whose big blue eyes were peering up at her from the thick fur she was wrapped in. Her face crunched and she began to cry in earnest. “They are going to pay dearly for this.” Berdine grumbled, and moved to pull herself up onto her horse. Carys was wailing now, as if she knew that they were about to head north, away from her mother. “Now, little one. We have a long journey ahead of us. If you are good, and do not cause me to have a splitting head ache, I will tell you all about the Night Wisp.”

Carys immediately stopped crying and blinked. How an infant knew what she was saying, Berdine did not know. But she also did not know how a tiny child could glare up at her in the very same way Cara would, when she demanded she go on.

Berdine held the reins with one hand, and while her horse began moving along the beach she turned and looked over her shoulder. She sent a silent plea to the Creator and all of the Spirits known to her, that they all watch over and protect those she loved, that she cared for. She hoped that she would see them all again. Safe. Alive. Emotion clawed at her throat, and she turned away. Her voice cracked as she began, “In a remote and ancient forest there is the beautiful land of the Night Wisp. It is here that they gather at twilight to dance together in the air above the grasses and wildflowers, like joyous fireflies. It is said that they dance and sing, of things common to all life: of dreams and hopes; of loves.”

* * * * *

She and the Wizard both used fire and air to knock back attacking men, as Richard swung his sword, hacking away those foolish enough to charge them.

A blast of scalding fire whooshed past her, taking out the column of men who had been rushing through her blind spot. She glared at Darken Rahl.

“Careful.” She warned him.

“You aren’t hurt. Stop being a baby.”

“Rahl!” Richard exclaimed, and Lord Rahl moved to the side, avoiding the sword that had come too close for Nicci’s comfort.

“Are we there yet?” Darken Rahl asked.

“Almost. Just over this slight ridge. Stay close to me, Lord Rahl.”

“Oh? Love on the battlefield, Mistress Nicci?”

“Hardly. I will ensure you don’t accidently step into the Old World and die.”

“Yes, that would be bad.”

“I don’t see it that way.” Richard yelled with a smile as he rushed past them, swinging blood from the blade of his sword.

Nicci thought of reminding Richard that he could be using magic, not steel. But he seemed to be enjoying himself.

* * * * *

Confusion swarmed around them, and Kahlan sprung, the blade in her hand slicing through leather, flesh, bone and muscle. The men around her folded away, and she moved forward, her eyes hard, her lips held in a sneer. It had been pure coincidence, seeing the flash of his sword, the color of his leather and cape through the fighting masses. But when she did see him she was propelled by the desire to end this. Kahlan moved through the mass of fighting, taking down men twice her size easily, and with a sense of joy. She watched Prince Harold as he fought with a sword in one hand, a dagger in the other. His face was hard with concentration, and she moved beside him, and dispatched one of the men beside him.

“Thanks.” He huffed, and blocked the swing of another soldier.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t? He laughed, stabbing his sword into the chest of the man nearest him.

“Don’t thank me.” Kahlan offered, and rammed her sword through his back, as she stepped closer to him, to hiss in his ear. “No one touches me without my permission.”

“What? I?” He whimpered, and then fell to the ground.

“No one.”

He fell to the ground, a satisfaction moved through her mind, and Kahlan turned, running forward, needed more, needing to destroy. Her hand reached out and she grabbed one solider by the throat. He dropped to his knees as her power pulsed through him, destroying him and making him hers.

“Command me Mistress.”

“Find your commander, kill him. Kill any and every man who fights for the Order. And then, as the sun sets, kill yourself.” She hissed and then left him.

Swords and daggers, blunt knives and axes were a blur and shimmering lights around her, as she parried, deflected, and fought back. She blinked, her sword coming down for a moment, after what had seemed like an hour of continual fighting. She knew she was getting close, perhaps too close, as she noticed surrounding her fighting were D’Harans and not her Home Guard and Galean Calvary. Their red and black uniforms danced dizzyingly around her.

And then the burn of black leather, moving around through the fray.

“You are too close Kahlan.” Raina said, appearing before her and shoving her hard.

“I will strike you down.” Kahlan growled. But she knew Raina was right. They were supposed to force the Imperial Order into the thin strip of land that was between D’Hara and the Old World. Force them there, but Kahlan and her fighters were to be on the other side, on the D’Haran side by now. The sun was nearly at its highest point.

“Fine. Just don’t let her see you.” Raina barked.

“She is here?” Kahlan’s eyes widened.

“Of course she is!” Raina said before rushing off, back into the thickness of battle. “Hurry Kahlan! It is almost time!”

* * * * *

The latent energy was easily felt, just as Nicci had expected it to be. The battle raged around them, but now that they were here, the Wizard created a small bubble of safety for them. No one could enter into it, though a few tried and found themselves looking into the face of the Keeper, their bodies turned to ash.

“It is time.” the Wizard announced.

“Nicci, are you sure that this is the only way? We are condemning thousands to death or the unknown.”

“Now you ask that question? Really Brother, your timing? Ingenious.” Darken Rahl snapped as he spread his arms out, his palms aimed at the ground, and crackling with dark subtractive magic. He and Nicci would provide the Subtractive while Richard and the Wizard would give Addictive.

“The time for questions is over Richard.”

“Okay.” He said, holding the Sword of Truth to his forehead and closing his eyes. It began to glow white as he channeled his magic.

Nicci looked at the Wizard, who sadly smiled and nodded to her.

It was almost time.

* * * * *

Using her daggers she deflected a sword and then slammed her forehead into the face of the man, shattering his nose. As he staggered back she sliced his throat and turned.

The world stopped. There was no sound. There was no war. There was only, in the distance, Cara. Her back was to Kahlan, but she knew her. She knew her lines, her angles, she knew the way her hair moved as she was struck, and she could see her smile from the side, voracious. Hungry for blood.

Kahlan blinked.

She was so close. Too close.

She took a step back, ducked the coming sword and her dagger plunged into the chest of the would be assailant. Her eyes looked to be sure he was falling back, before she chanced a look to Cara once more.

She felt her heart stop. Cara was looking directly at her.

* * * * *

She felt the prickling at the back of her neck. Someone was looking at her.

Slowly Cara turned, and looked through the thick haze of dust.

“Kahlan.” She breathed seeing her blurred outline, knowing she was there, so close.

Cara slammed her eyes shut.

She would not die.

Not that way.

Not yet.

* * * * *

“no… nonono.” Kahlan whispered.

Cara’s hands fell to her sides, and her eyes closed.

Kahlan knew it was probably one of the hardest things Cara had ever done, but she did it. She closed her eyes.

The men surrounding Cara all lunged for her; at least five of them fell upon her, swords and knives drawn.

“NO!” She screamed, watching as Cara started to fight back. But it was too late. “No! CARA!”

* * * * *

The scream filled her ears and she looked across the desert, amid the fighting. Kahlan was standing in the wrong place, and she was screaming. Nicci’s eyes moved just in time to see Cara, not one hundred yards from Kahlan, become swarmed by a mass of men.

“Kahlan you must move now!” Nicci screamed, but the Confessor couldn’t hear her. Nicci watched in terror as Kahlan began to charge forward.

Frustrated Nicci took off running, to intercept her.

“Nicci. What are you doing?”

“I can just as well complete the spell there as here. Do not stop!” She ordered Zedd and Richard.

Leaving the protection of the web, Nicci ran as fast as she could, through the thick of the fighting, men from both sides falling dead around her. Her magic stopped hearts and exploded brains. She did not have time to determine deserved to die, they all did if they were in her way.

* * * * *

A hand grabbed her arm, shaking her. “What is it?” the deep voice asked.

Kahlan blinked looking up into the scarred face. “Orsk! Protect Cara! Protect her with your life, as though she were me!”

“Yes, Mistress.” He vowed and ran. He moved through the fighting, not stopping, ducking and moving, as Kahlan did not breathe, as she waiting. It was as she watched him pull the first man off of Cara that she gasped. Orsk was not confessed to her. But he still moved as if he were.

She felt something brush against her hair, before she was knocked to her knees with magic. A sword swung over head, and it would have sliced through her throat. Her darkening eyes looked to see Nicci rushing towards her. Understanding, Kahlan had to look back, had to see if Orsk was successful.

The ground beneath her hands and knees began to shake violently. Her fingers dug into the sandy soil, feeling the magic pulsing low, beneath bedrock. She could feel how very cold it felt.

“MISTRESS!” Orsk yelled, as he became Orsk swarmed as well.

Slowly she stood, her eyes taking it all in, every particle of dusk, every look on the faces of the men who were lashing out at Orsk, as the pile of men on top of Cara grew, as her heart took one last beat, before she felt it crack in half. Her mate was going to die. Cara was going to be slaughtered by these men. She was hurt and would die. Kahlan would never see her again, never touch her again. Cara would never hold their daughter. Would not live to see her ascend to the role of Mother Confessor. Her mate was going to die.

As her heart broke, the Blood Rage poured out. It latched onto the Blood Lust, and it rode the tendrils of her Confessor’s power, moving through her veins, bursting blood vessels in her eyes and her nose it is so intense. Blood began to weep from her eyes and nose. Her black and red eyes were crying tears of blood.

Men swarmed around her, thinking her prey.

They were mistaken.

Every man around her for ten paces was flung back as if there were nothing more than husks, all instantly dead, confessed and commanded to die, all in the same instant that a heart shattering scream erupted from her mouth.

* * * * *

The ground shifted beneath her feet, the magic was moving around her and through her. The magic from the others still chanting, as well as Kahlan now in the full throws of the ConDar.

“It’s time.” Nicci whispers to herself. She would allow the intensity of the moment to move through her later. Now, at this moment there was nothing more she could do, but this one act of selflessness. She skidded to a halt, and with a deep pull of air into her lungs she slammed her hands down into the ground. She released the Subtractive magic as well as the Han she carried inside of her, the life force of over one hundred Sisters of the Light and Dark.

Before here the Barrier exploded from the very earth, growing taller, the wall of pulsing green energy. Panting Nicci watched it gain height and strength, feeling as if she were under water. The rumbling of the earth is nearly deafening, but she can still hear the low growl coming from beside her.

Her strength gives out, as the last of her power is forced into the earth, sacrificed, and she falls to her side. Looking up, Nicci watches as Kahlan stares at the thick green Barrier, as she turns, blood streaming down her face from her eyes, her dress moving so very slowly around her, as she looks at Nicci with hate and contempt.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” She screams.

* * * * *

“I remember you.” The scarred man said as he loomed above her, an odd smile on his bleeding face.

She had not expected to see anyone. She had expected to either die, or to be killed once she was set upon by so many people she did not know who and what she was hitting back at. “Hello Orsk.” Cara felt pain radiating in her legs, and she knew that she could not stand. Not on her own. Either her back or her legs were broken. She was not sure it mattered which, with the way he was looking down at her. “I know you are no longer confessed. So, if you plan on killing me, hurry up. You could be using this time more wisely.”

“You are a stubborn one.” He said, before reaching down and lifting her into his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving you.”

“Why?”

“Because the Mother Confessor commanded me too.”

“Did I miss something?”

“Not at all, Mistress Cara. Not at all.” He hefted her easily into his arms, and then the earth beneath their feet began to rumble and move. A scream that Cara knew too well pierced the air, absorbing and becoming the only sound that could be heard. Orsk turned, and being held by him as she was she gasped as she saw the thick green wall of energy, pulsing and moving as it rose from the very earth, as it vibrated and flared with power and went as high as the midday sky. Through the thick green wall of the barrier Cara caught the faintest glimpse of Kahlan, of her neck back her face pointed towards the sky as magic flared like lightning off of her body.

“Spirits no.” Cara whimpered, before her body began to convulse, she the pain of seeing Kahlan dug through the center of her bones, and everything turned black.

* * * * *

Her hand went around her throat. “How could you?” Kahlan still felt the rage and the need to protect moving inside of her, she was still feeling the ConDar. Her eyes looked to the thick green Barrier, and then she looked round them. She saw men still battling, as if nothing had happened. But Kahlan knew. From the lay of the land. She and Nicci were not where they were supposed to be.

“How could I not, Kahlan?” Nicci choked out. “We just saved millions of lives. Look beyond your own selfishness. Look at what we did.”

“We are here, in the Old World now, how are WE to be saved?”

“Perhaps we are not meant to be saved. Perhaps it is you who must save them. The Order thrives here, perhaps to defeat the Order we must adopt their thinking. We all must sacrifice who we are, what we have, for the good of everyone else.” Nicci said softly.

Kahlan let her go and stood. “You did this.”

Nicci looked up at her, her face accepting of anything Kahlan determined to do.

She felt the power from the Barrier, and the heat from the sun, the wetness from the blood that coated her skin. And she screamed again, before she stormed away from Nicci, her dagger drawn. The first man she came to was greeted with four repeated stabs to the chest, before with just her intent she confessed the man beside him. Her burning red eyes looked over the vast desert. Everyone one before her would die.

Part 34

Sitting in the throne room, with Darken Rahl sitting in his chair, as they went over maps and strategies with Commander Meiffert, she would find herself staring at the pale marble wall in the distance, she would somehow see the lines of Kahlan’s face in the veins there, she would listen not to the words around her, but to the sound of words in her mind. In her memories. Her eyes would burn and she would swallow roughly, and she would have to bite back on the feelings.

Cara would hold her Agiel in her hand, feel the pulsing pain of it, the familiar ache that moved up through the bones of her hand, her arm. She could feel every scar that Kahlan’s love healed split and tear back open. Her heart, heavy, felt as though it wanted to stop beating.

It was the day, when she was healed enough to leave the People’s Palace with the latest influx of soldiers to fight along the front line that she made the decision. That she knew that the only way to get through each day, was to do what she knew, what she was skilled at. She would partition her mind. She would rebuild the walls around her heart, and blockade off her soul. She would embrace the pain and the hardness that she was, and in doing so she would survive.

And she would allow, in the dark of night, in her dreams, she would allow herself those melancholy moments of feeling, of dreaming of walking with Kahlan, of the feeling of their hands entwined. Only at night. Only in the shroud of dreams. In the dark, in the quiet came dreams. With the dream came her face, and her presence. It was as if, in the thick embrace of dreams she could be anywhere, could see anything. And each and every night it seemed that Kahlan came to her. That they would walk through forests, and fields, that they would sit in silence beside massive lakes as the moon highlighted the ripples that were created as the caress of winds moved through time, and as the Night Wisp seemed to dance, over the water, over the wild flowers in fields that stretched from horizon to horizon. In these moments, and in these dreams she was consumed with the feeling of peace, of a calming love that punctuated from Cara all the emotion she felt with Kahlan and for Kahlan. And in those dreams she was so very happy.

When she would wake, as her eyes would open and the color of the world was bleached, faint, and as the world around her seemed so very empty she vowed, as she sighed Kahlan’s name, Cara vowed she would never sleep again.

For as wondrous her dreams were, the pain that accompanied waking was almost more than she could bear.

“Cara, I dare say, you appear to be having feelings.” Lord Rahl said, looking up from his papers.

“Perhaps I am, feelings of joy.”

“Joy?” He asked with a shocked smile.

“I was imaging gutting you like a fish and tossing your entrails over the balcony.”

He blanched. “Well then.”

“You asked.”

“I did.”

* * * * *

The cheers and merriment from the city of Tanimura reached her even where she sat, on the edge of the large desk in the Prelate’s office. Vera was sitting, her hands steepled before her lips, but she had not spoken in some time.

Neither had Kahlan.

Her body was weary, the muscles of her arms sore from the battle, but it was all a soothing pain. In feeling it she knew she was alive. Which was much more than could be said for many others.

There seemed to be a crescendo in the clamor from the city that surrounded Halsband Island and the Palace of the Prophets. She rose and went to the window, holding back the thick curtain and looking out. In the night sky she could see the glow of a thousand fires.

“They rejoice for you.”

“They should rejoice for themselves.” Kahlan countered.

“With your army you have pushed back the Imperial Order.”

“Pushed back indeed. And they will surge again.”

“They will.”

Kahlan shook her head. “Then why should I bother? How many more of my people will die to save these citizens of the Old World. Citizens who were helping the Order up until the Barrier was activated. Why should our lives become forfeit when these people don’t seem to care?”

“Because you are the Mother Confessor, because it is your duty.”

Kahlan laughed darkly. “My duty is to the people of the Midlands. Not these people. Not those of the Old World. Find a way to send me through the boundary. Find a way to return me to my actual people, and I will fight for them. Here? Here there is no reason for me to.”

“You could… work to establish your power here, Kahlan. The Old World could use someone with your gifts, and your sense of justice.”

Her eyes narrowed on the Prelate. “No. So long as I am trapped here? The Mother Confessor Kahlan is dead. Here I am merely Kahlan Amnell. Your prisoner.”

“No, my dear, you are not our prisoner.”

“Can I walk through those doors? Can I make my way through the Valley of Perdition, through the Boundary and make my way home?”

“I… well… no.”

“Then I am a prisoner.”

* * * * *

Cara walked down the wide passageway, her boots silent on the white marble floors, which glowed a warm hue the same color as an autumn sunset. Without thinking she took the passage that she had never walked down before. It was as Berdine once told her, brilliantly beautiful as she came upon the glass windows that went from floor to ceiling overlooking the Azrith Plain. The sun was low in the horizon, and the sky was softening in color. The sparse land, without trees or towns, without hills, was startling in its beauty. She never considered this land beautiful, but now she did. Now it seemed to hold a promise. That one day someone would come across the land, and bring with them hope and freedom.

She leaned against the marble wall, her eyes looking out, seeing but not seeing. She was no longer here, not in the People’s Palace. She was, in that warm and comforting place within her mind. She was surrounded by Kahlan and her love. She could see her eyes, the love in them, looking a there as she smiled. In Cara’s hand she held the lock of hair, her thumb moving over it, feeling the silken texture. A small little reminder that she was not crazy, that she had not imagined the existence of Kahlan, nor merely conjured up their love. It had been real. Though brief, it had been the first time in Cara’s life where she had been truly alive

* * * * *

Voices, combined in song, but the sounds being pulled from the stringed instruments, the tempo and the words being sung by the children below was all foreign to Kahlan. Seemed to reach inside of her, and it comforted while at the same time pushed her heart to beat harder, the reality that she was in a completely different world, not what she knew, not where she knew. All those times she questioned Nicci about the worlds on the other side of the ocean haunted her. In her curiosity she forgot herself, she forgot how much she loved the Midlands. How the smell, and the sound of her homeland was such a part of her. now that it was kept from her, that it was all so very far away, she understood Nicci’s reluctance in telling her of the other worlds, just as she understand now that while she may have wanted adventure, now she just wanted the scent of spiced soup, the sound of the birds in the forests, the lullabies heard being sung to her daughter.

She closed her eyes, her hands balling into fists. This was a twisted path of melancholy that no longer served her, not all the time. She needed to hold those feelings at bay; she needed to walk through the halls of this Palace, to move through the streets and amid her army with a mask of indifference. She needed to be the strength. She may have lost her child, and her love, but so had all the men and women who had fought with her. Who were in this new and strange world. She would move through them and around them and she would give them whatever she could to make this transition more bearable.

The door opened behind her, and with it’s creaking hinges the sound from the courtyard below swelled, a man’s voice joined the children, and it added a new dimension. While the language was unknown to Kahlan, the emotion in the words, in the music seemed to speak to her, perfectly. The longing and the hope.

“They are singing to you. For you. They were told your room faces this courtyard.”

“Why would they sing for me?”

“To bring you comfort. It is a song about comfort, about the timelessness of love.” Nicci said softly.

Kahlan turned and glared at her. “Did you know? This whole time, did you know that this would happen? That you would raise the barrier and cut us off?”

“Yes.”

“And you never told me, never discussed it.”

“Would you, in all your passion and drive, your love for your daughter and your people, would you have listened to me?”

Kahlan sighed. “I would have listened, and then disagreed.”

“The Imperial Order has been pushed back out of Tanimura. That has not happened in one hundred years. You can be the savior to this world.”

“What of my world?”

“They have a champion. More than one. This world needs you in it now.”

“I… I will never.”

“Kahlan, I am sorry. Part of me, that very small part that is beginning to understand what it truly means to feel? That part of me is sorry that you had to sacrifice all that you did.”

“So, I will sacrifice everything. Even when I thought I would not do such a thing for the Midlands, for D’Hara, here I am, giving it all up for this place.”

Nicci nodded.

“I am only one person.”

“You are the Mother Confessor.”

“No. Not any more, not here. Now I am just Kahan Amnell.”

“Never just.” Nicci set her hand on her arm. “Berdine and Raina will take very good care of your daughter. And Cara, I am sure will find a way…to…”

“I just want her to live.”

“As she wants you to.”

“Life.” She sighed.

“Ah, Kahlan, life, and time does not move in the same way here. There is time, to battle, and to make a difference.”

“And time… to lose myself in Cara.”

“I… don’t.”

Kahlan smiled sadly. “I have a journey book. She has the other. We… have been…”

“I see.”

“I couldn’t live if I did not have that. If I couldn’t be sure she was alive. Can you, undo it?”

“I am sorry Kahlan. If there is a way? Not that there is, I don’t want to give you false hope. But if there is a way, perhaps it can be found in the libraries and vaults here.”

“Good thing that time moves slowly here, so you will have all that you need.”

* * * * *

In the small courtyard she saw the roses and the orchids, growing together. Neither choking the other out, not fighting over soil or sunlight. Existing together, being symbiotic in their differences, but beautiful together. Cara kneeled on the tiny white pebbles, her black gloved hands moving into the pristine white pebbles, and she bowed, her head touching them, feeling the residual warmth of the day’s sunlight on them.

She thought of Kahlan, and where she may be in the world. What sky she was seeing, what the air smelt of. Was there rain clouds in the sky? Was the sun setting there as well, or was it brilliantly high in the sky. Knowing she was alive, was more than she could ask for. Through time, and distance, she was there, somewhere. Cara knew it, could feel it somehow. And it would be enough. Until the time came to pass that she could smell her skin, feel her arms, taste her kiss… she would not allow her heart to break just yet. She could stay strong; she would hold the love in her heart tightly.

30 years later

Her eyes were closed tightly, and the fingers of her right hand moved along the thick root of the fir tree. She was surprised that the bark was still there, from all the moments such as these, when she would sit here, and touch the tree to merely feel grounded, to feel something alive. Because for every day that passed, every year that seemed to be tossed aside as if it never mattered, Kahlan found herself here, in the woods, as the moon moved above, the same moon that would be looking down on Cara, on their child. On the world she missed, that was still a part of her.

“I need to stop it. I really do.” She mumbled to herself.

Checking and rechecking the journey book would not make a message appear any sooner. No matter how much she tried to will it into existence. Her head fell back against the tree, and she felt the pressure of the leagues separating them, and of time. How many days had it been since the book contained the sharp etchings of Cara’s hand? They both knew that any moment the books could stop working, that the world outside of where they were could come crashing in. And still they fell into words, into the books to find a sense of peace. Cara would write when she could. Kahlan knew that. There were times when there would be a lull between messages, when either one or both of them would be consumed by something in the reality that surrounded them. They both knew, and they both understood. Months had passed when she herself had not written, when she had been in the far reaches of the Old World locked in a particularly hot and muggy cell.

She did not think that was the case now, why Cara had not written.

Her leg kicked her bag accidently, and with the flap still open, some of her papers fell out. Notes she had taken when in the vaults of the Palace of the Prophets, reading through books with Warren, arguing prophecy and politics with Nicci and Vera. Quickly, with annoyance she shoved papers back inside, and in her rush, something cut her finger. She put her hand to her mouth, sucking the hint of blood from her fingertip. Kahlan narrowed her eyes, wondering what had cut her. She pushed notes aside and found a small roll of paper, in the center of it a small pin, the sort that one used to affix something to a wall. The roll of paper looked ancient, and she felt her brows furrow. She could hardly recall this, what it was, where it came from. She unrolled it and a sharp gasp pulled from her lips. It was a small map. With no words, or city names. But there were forests, the ocean, mountains, a valley. It was small but detailed.

“Oh Spirits.” Kahlan recognized many of the land marks, as they were here in the Old World, around Tanimura, there even was Halsband Island, and Grafan Harbor.

Then she knew. She remembered. This map had been given to her years ago, in the Confessor’s Palace, by the Seer Jebra. She had not though much of it at the time and had tucked it away in her travel pack. But now? Now it made sense. Now she could see.

Kahlan ran her finger over the worn parchment, forgetting the pin prick of blood on her finger. As her blood touched the map it glowed, and a thin line erupted. Her eyes went wide, watching the line moving through the forests, through the Valley of Perdition, and into…

“Home.” She whispered bewildered. Could it be? Could this map truly show her where there may be one crack in the Barrier? She had been searching for years. With no success. But… if this.

She opened the journey book, reaching for her pen, she had to tell Cara immediately. She stopped.

Words. Cara’s words. Written on the page.

my love. i miss you. even in sleep there is no peace. in war there is no silence. the screams and cries are like music. the music i heard the last time i saw you. I’ve been at the sea, I am sorry for the delay. i pray you are well, and that you are… happy. i only ever want you to be happy. please be happy.

“I am happy. Because I love you.” Kahlan said with a sad smile. Slowly she wrote a reply,

She looked at her words once, and then smiling wider she shoved the book into her pack, lifted it on her shoulder, and consulted the map in her hand. “I am coming home Cara.”

* * * * *

The drums had stopped while she had been away. As the thickness of battle wage on the arid plain she had watched from the high balcony. Her connection to the People’s Palace pleaded with her to take up arms, to go out and fight, defend the people of D’Hara. But her own conscious, her own soul told her to stay where she was. The flags in the distance had snapped in the winds, the familiar blue and grey and white. She would never raise her sword or Agiel to the Midlands, and certainly not to their army.

Cara had traveled north, away from the battle, away from Lord Rahl’s screams and assaults. He knew that he could not win. But still he kept trying. He would try until he died.

Until they both died.

Sighing her eyes opened slowly, setting the journey book on the balcony railing beside her black gloved hand. The leather was cracked, and softer than the petals of the roses that grew and died inside of the devotional courtyard beside orchids where she spent the majority of her free moments. Time and use were reflected on the cover of the book. She had not written in too long, lost in the rhythm of the drums and then the calm of the ocean in the north. She was angry with herself for not telling Kahlan that she was leaving for a while, and could not write, could not share those words that could fold distance, and bring them together.

Cara pushed away the tear from her cheek, knowing Kahlan would understand. Earlier in the morning, when she returned to the Palace she had written to her, and now her lips moved forming a silent prayer, that Kahlan’s words would cover the pages inside, that they would appear, and would give her that blissfully bittersweet moment of the phantom touch.

Do you remember our first dance? Standing surrounded by thousands, and all I saw was you. All there was… was you, my love. Nothing and no one mattered; there was nothing for me but the feel of your hand on mine, and the look of faithful love in your eyes. I have danced with you each and every night in my dreams, and when we have met, come together in the in–between.

You told me once, that you would take the long road. I too, will take that road, and I will meet you, in that field between right and wrong. I will love you Cara.

Cara swallowed the emotion in her throat, felt the soft winter breeze caressing her cheek, imagining it was Kahlan’s finger tips, as she looked out over the massive battle field. Seeing the violence, hearing the clanging of steel, and smelling the coming snow. In a few weeks another winter could fall on the world. On the Old and on the New.

EPILOGUE

Thoughtfully she regards him; the dark color of his eyes, the pallor of color, the lines that are there. He is weary, and though he may attempt to hide it, Carys can see it there. It appears that the years that have passed have weighed heavily on him. She is hopeful that is the case. She wants Lord Rahl to feel the weight f each and every soul he condemned to death, she wants to ensure that it presses on his shoulders.

His fingers flex again on the hilt of the sword at his hip. Fingers moving on blood red leather. She has never seen the sword, but she had been told of it, told of its meaning, as well as its fateful use. So many stories that she is sure that it will familiar when it is in her hand.

“That sword is not yours.”

“There are a good many things in this palace that are not, technically mine, Mother Confessor. That does not mean I have not enjoyed their use over the years.”

A sigh escapes from her lips.

He is just as they said he would be. Her childhood had been filled with rich and exciting tales, told to her in excited tones, about grand adventures and the menace of the hapless Lord Rahl. As a child she would giggle every time he entered the tale. He was not an insurmountable ogre or a vengeful dragon. He was a bumbling comedic villain. So as a child she did not fear him, nor the idea of him. As she grew older, as the stories shared with her began to take on a darker, more personal tone, she still did not develop a fear for the man that now stands before her. On the contrary, she developed a significant dislike, a dash of vengeful anger, and more pity. He is just a man, one who is trying to hold on to something that was never truly there. In her life, Carys Amnell had learned the lessons of true evil, what should be regarded carefully, approached with caution. This man, with his tricks, and his words was merely a man. Attempts at striking out at her with innuendo, or some sort of emotional impact in his words would be wasted. She is not easily offended.

“Be that as it may, Lord Rahl. I am here now. And I will be taking.” She steps closer to him. “Every single thing that does not belong to you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.”

“You do not know what you are speaking of. I do not know what sort of ideas those around you have filled your head with, but I assure you, Mother Confessor, that you cannot merely take from me.” He smiles, an attempt at charm. “That being said. There are some things here… which I will gladly see gone. After the Imperial Order was purged from the land, I never expected that my request would be met with such… opposition.”

“Request? You wanted to rule the new world.”

“Well yes, of course. And to think my Brother,” he chokes on the word. “Was so opposed to such an idea. That he even went to the lengths of declaring war against D’Hara… I knew Richard was still sore about losing out to Cara, but to declare war?”

“War against you, Darken Rahl. Not Cara.”

“So you say… is that why, after Richard’s demise you still fought me, lead your armies against me?”

“I fought to right the wrong.”

“Which one?”

“The wrong when you returned to the land of the living.”

“Here I thought you were noble and were here to end the war.”

“That was a given. You were fighting for the sake of fighting.”

“NO! I was fighting to keep the idiot hordes at bay.”

She tilts her head to the side, regarding him. “Is that what you think?”

“Yes. I refused to allow magic to be destroyed.”

She laughs at him. “Oh… really? I thought for sure that all of this has merely been your ploy to have control? To take over the entirety of the New World?”

“There is that.”

“And you failed.”

“Did I? You are now ruler of the New World, are you not?”

“I am.”

“And who made you?” He growls at her. “Who made it so you could breathe air? Swing your sword? WHO MADE YOU?”

Her eyes glare at him. “Not you.”

“I GAVE HER THE CHOICE! I GAVE HER THE MAGIC TO MAKE IT SO!”

“Lord Rahl, she could have chosen no. She could have chosen death. It is by her that I was borne. It is in her love my soul was brought forth.”

“Whatever you think? You are wrong. She will never leave here, not alive.”

“Because of you.”

“Because of the oath I made to her, and in turn she made to me. You can have you victory, Mother Confessor, but I will stay here, and I will not age, and in time, I will build back up my armies, and I will wage war again until the New World is mine.”

“Oh, not the Old as well?”

“No. Barbarians who do not believe in magic? What use are they to me? And what use are they to you? They do not understand what we are. What magic is? And if they do not know what you can do, well then the people will not fear you, and if they do not fear you, dear girl, then you cannot rule them.”

She smiles, she cannot help herself really. “They fear me. Have no doubt, they fear me. “

His eyes became colored with apprehension.

“Lord Rahl, you look concerned. I would be too.” Her grin became feral. “In honor of your… assistance in defeating the Imperial Order here in the New World, I have taken steps to ensure your… appropriate reward.” She hands him a jeweled scroll case. As he touches it his eyes widen.

“Why Mother Confessor. Providing the Lord Rahl such a gift.”

“You know what it is then?”

“It is powerful. I can feel that. What is it?”

“An ancient parchment, containing a spell, the spell in fact that Alric Rahl wrote and then used to create the bond.”

“You don’t say? Where ever did you find this?”

“It was tucked away, in the Wizard’s Keep. I doubt it will do anything to further your bond, intensify it.” She shrugs, watching as his tongue moves across his bottom lip. “When I read it there seemed to be no additional magic there. I thought, if I cannot kill you, I would try to provide you with…some measure of appreciation. One never knows. Perhaps if you, Lord Rahl, were to read the incantation?” She does not finish her thought, she does not need to. The greed for more power fuels his curiosity, and quickly he opens the case.

His smile shines brilliantly, triumphantly for a moment. In his rush he forgot the first rule. As she believed he would.

It is the moment that he looks at her with astonishment in his eyes that she had wanted to see. When he gives her that gift, as his mouth utters the word, “No,” she smiles devilishly at him. Carys Amnell had waited her entire life to see that look. Shock. Pain. Understanding.

In her time millions had died. Not all of those deaths were his doing, but a significant number were. As she had walked, quietly and cautiously through the arid plans of Azrith, through the settling dust and smoke, amid corpses and cracked weapons, each and every one of those lives lost, on both sides weighed on her shoulders. Their lives were not wasted, their deaths not in vain. They had given themselves to the most powerful force in all of the worlds. They had given their lives for love. Love of their kingdom, love of their ideology, love of their sovereign, love of their family, children. Love was what began wars, and ended them.

Faintly she feels the power of his magic, of the bond, being pulled away, as it seems to be taken back by the very walls and floors surrounding them. The scroll itself was written by Alric Rahl, and it was about the Rahl bond. What she, and at the time, the First Wizard, had found interesting when reading it, was that it was a skipping spell. Similar to a light spell, and a time spell, this specific spell would take the bond of the Rahl bloodline and skip it to the next generation.

She knows taking the magic, the bond from him, is her one act of love. Love for him, because if not for him, if not for the life he lived, the passions he had, the obsession, her parents would never have met. She always believed it would be fitting, that it was her standing before him, crushing him.

Taking his magic will not kill him, but it will kill his spirit. And she watches and witnesses the spark fizzle out in his dark eyes. She has things she would like to say, to him, reminding him of who he has hurt. But seeing the spark leave him, seeing the pain in his eyes, she knows in this moment? Words are not needed.

His mouth began to move with shock and pain.

Leaning closer to him, fingers moving to grasp the sword, she pulls it free. “This is not yours.” She grins, looking at the polished blade, as he falls to his knees, gasping in pain. “The spell? It takes the bond of Lord Rahl from you, and it sends it to the next in line.”

“You just destroyed three thousand years of work, of protection.”

“No. I didn’t. There is a Lord Rahl. Just not you.”

“That is not possible.”

“It is very possible. He is on his way here now in fact. Traveling from Westland. Where he was born and raised.”

“My damn brother.”

“Yes. He is Richard’s son. So, ease your mind, Darken Rahl. The line is intact. It just no longer moves through you.”

Carys plunges the sword through his heart, thinking it is a just replacement. Using this sword he tricked Cara into giving her life, and now, by the same blade he would give his. Blood bubbles pop and drip down his bearded chin, his eyes take on a slight lost look. There is only the smallest satisfaction in killing him. The consolation, what is waiting for him in the Underworld. Pathetically his hands move to grab the blade. Let him, she is thinking. She knows her face is cold; hard as stone, stern, focused, and without emotion. The emotion is inside, behind her bright blue eyes. Twisting the blade, hearing it scrap bone, the gurgling in his throat remind her that killing is very personal. He blinks only once, before he looks over her shoulder. His eyes become empty, and his weight falls back. The blade slips from him.

“I believe this is yours.” She says to the woman who tentatively approaches her from behind.

Carys looks over her shoulder, to see her as a living shadow, dressed in the thick black fur mantel, stepping from the darkness.

“You can keep it, if you would like.” Kahlan, her Mother, says with a smile. “It was it the scroll?” She asks.

“It was. Just as… Mother… suggested.”

“She won’t like you calling her that.” Kahlan laughs softly, and then looks up, as small flakes of snow began to fall from the darkening sky. Her smile fades and her eyes dance around the empty courtyard.

“Perhaps she is somewhere within the Palace?”

“Mm. I think I know where.” Kahlan takes one step, and then stops, to look back at her. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Mother.”

Slowly she stood back up. The pain that had raced through her body had been interesting, though not as intense as she was accustomed to. That it had sent her into a moment or a dozen moments of unconsciousness was another matter all together. Cara preferred not to be rendered unconscious, especially when she has not prepared. A blow to the head she could accept. Some torture now and then she understood. Just collapsing to the ground and loosing unknown amounts of time, was always bothersome. She cracked her neck, and then rolled her shoulders, eyes narrowing and looking around. There was a fine dusting of snow on the stones around her.

She pushed her long braid back over her shoulder, and then looked at her hands. They were the same hands, wearing the same black leather gloves, but they felt different. Stronger. Cara closed her eyes for a moment, and listened. And she heard. Nothing.

The Palace, the ever present hum was no longer inside of her mind.

It was done.

“Kahlan.” She whispered. If she was free of the spell, and the bond, she could try and get through the Barrier, try to get to Kahlan.

She flung open the door and left the balcony, moving quickly. As she turned the corner, to move down the hall way a familiar voice halted her.

* * * * *

Her black leather seemed painted on, molded to her, her hair in the thick long braid. Even looking at her back for a moment Kahlan could not breathe. She knew it was Cara. From the way her hips moved, to the faint scent of her in the air, to the fact that her heart leapt into her throat at seeing her.

This moment. She had dreamed of this moment, had nightmares of it. She had fantasized about it, and agonized over it.

Each and every time, no matter the emotions connected to this moment, it always began the same way. It began with her voice, hesitantly saying,

“Cara.”

She turned her head, and her long blonde braid fell over her shoulder. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she looked through the shadows. Slowly she turned completely around, and took one step closer. For the first time in thirty long years Kahlan could see the brightness of her eyes, moist and full of emotion.

* * * * *

She no longer felt the cold that the snow had left on her skin. Cara was burning from the inside, love consuming every chill, everything that had been frozen for years as she stood, staring at the vision before her.

Kahlan’s shoulders, strong from carrying the weight of duty and her life, were covered in the thick black fur, which seemed to match the shadows produced by her hair. She took one step forward, and the nearest torch on the wall danced across her face, and her eyes lit the hall with their intensity.

“Hello.”

Cara swallowed. “Hello.”

Her hand went to the black bear mantel, and it fell from her shoulders, reveling beneath the shimmering living white of her gown.

“You’re…” Cara began.

“I am home.”

The beams from the moon, which slipped and battled through the snow and clouds outside, for one instant highlighted her Confessor’s white gown and Cara’s breath was stolen. Gone. Eradicated.

She stepped across the hall as the vibrations of thunder shook her bones, as Kahlan moved towards her as well. As the thunder silenced, a bolt of lightning erupted outside, through the high windows they were bathed in a flash of blue light, and they fell into one another’s arms. Fervently, they clung to one another, feeling arms, the way their chests pressed together, how so very right their touch was. As if this was their first embrace, it filled her body with the shudders of love and of that intoxicating consuming need to hold her closer.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Only ever.”

“Yours.”

They said as together their lips met, as their eyes closed. In their kiss, they both shared every drop of love, need, desire, commitment and compassion. A soft moan and arms wrapped tighter, bodies moved closer, and they both felt all of the emotions, all the love dancing inside; they both felt harmony and comfort, the peace and the rightness of home.

… *roll credits*…

Table of Contents

seven3oh - Cold

Disclaimer

Cold - Prologue &amp; Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Epilogue