Severed Souls, Page 2

  “Jit, the Hedge Maid, had captured Kahlan and me,” Richard said, “but before she could kill us I was able to plug our ears with some wads of cloth and then break the restraints on the evil that resides inside her kind. When I did, she involuntarily let out a cry that called death to her. That was how I was able to kill her so that we could escape.

  “Unfortunately, some of that sound was still able to get through. Now, that opening to the world of the dead is embedded within us. When Samantha healed our other wounds, she came near to that boundary rooted deep within us. That’s what she is remembering.”

  “Samantha wouldn’t know anything about such matters,” Irena insisted as her gaze shifted from her daughter back to Richard. “She’s too young. She has no business even attempting such things yet. She still has too much to learn before going near such dark forces.”

  As Samantha tilted her head back to look up at her mother, her eyes glistened with tears at the terrible memory. “It was the only way I could heal their wounds. I had to do it or they would have died. Lord Rahl is the one meant to save us. He helped save many of the people of Stroyza.

  “I had to do it or they would have died. He guided me in what I needed to do. It was then, when I was doing the healing, that I felt that terrible darkness of death deep within them. That’s when I smelled that awful smell.”

  “She’s right,” Zedd grumbled unhappily. “I recall a hint of that same odor from when I started healing the both of them back before we were attacked and captured. I recognized it at the time as the stagnant stench of the darkest depths of the world of the dead.” His eyes turned away. “I’ve encountered that singular smell before.”

  Nicci hooked a long strand of her blond hair back behind an ear as she scanned the darkness among the trees. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, or else she was using her ability to try to sense if someone or something was hiding out there.

  “When you are near to the boundary to the underworld, when death is near,” she said in a quiet voice that seemed to come from some dark place within her, “you could sometimes smell it, smell the world of the dead beyond the veil.”

  Irena glanced around at the grim expressions. “When death is near…? The world of the dead? Here? Now? What are you all talking about? It’s likely to be nothing more sinister than a sulfur spring nearby. There are a number of such places in the Dark Lands. Most likely the breeze carried a whiff of a sulfur spring in this direction, that’s all.” She cast a deliberate glance in Nicci’s direction. “I think we’re letting ourselves get carried away by groundless fears.”

  Nicci’s flawless features took on a ill-humored cast as her gaze settled on the woman. “I was once a Sister of the Dark. I suffered that stench often enough when the Keeper of the underworld visited us in our sleep, when he came to us to direct us to do his bidding. That’s why the Mother Confessor thought of it as a memory from a dream. When she sleeps, the sights and sounds of the conscious world fade into the background. In that state, she is nearer to the boundary to the underworld now rooted within her.”

  Samantha’s jaw hung open. “You were a Sister of the—”

  “Hush,” her mother cautioned from behind in a low voice as she put both hands on the young woman’s shoulders to add emphasis to the order.

  Samantha’s mother looked shaken by the revelation that Nicci was once a Sister of the Dark. Richard knew that many people who lived in remote places, like Irena and her daughter, were superstitious and avoided speaking out loud of things they feared lest they call those mysterious dangers to themselves. There was nothing more terrifying than the Keeper of the underworld. Richard knew Sisters of the Light who called the Keeper “the Nameless One” for fear of calling him forth.

  Richard also saw the shadow of suspicion in Irena’s dark eyes. Women who had given themselves over to such dark forces never returned to the light. Yet Nicci had.

  “Sulfur smells similar, but it’s not exactly the same as the stench from the world of the dead. Considering my past allegiances, I could hardly mistake sulfur for the haunting stench of the underworld. When I touched Richard and Kahlan before, to heal them, I recognized all too well that death itself is growing in them both.”

  Hearing the unmistakable tone of authority and experience in Nicci’s voice, Irena didn’t argue.

  The creases in Zedd’s face drew tight as he looked around in alarm. “Where’s Cara?”

  Richard’s grandfather knew that the Mord-Sith wouldn’t be far when there was any sort of danger to Richard and Kahlan.

  The words felt like a knife to Richard’s heart.

  “Cara is gone,” he said in a quiet voice as he looked back into his grandfather’s hazel eyes.

  Zedd’s brow drew down. “Gone? What do you mean, gone? She was here when we set up camp.”

  “She left earlier in the night.”

  When Zedd saw the look on Richard’s face he closed his mouth, leaving his questions for later. Zedd had been there when Cara’s husband had been brutally killed by the half people. Cara had been there as well. Richard could see in his grandfather’s eyes that he suddenly made the connection to the reason she had left.

  Irena eyed the dark shapes of trees emerging as dawn crept up on them. With the same wiry figure and the same mass of long black hair framing a face of delicate features, she looked like an older version of Samantha, if somewhat more tense. Samantha by contrast had faced terrible dangers with bravery and resolve. He knew that part of that was because she was young.

  It occurred to Richard that, living in the Dark Lands her whole life and being an experienced sorceress, maybe Irena had experienced far more than her daughter and had good reason for being anxious. Irena would have seen things that Samantha had yet to see, understood things that Samantha had yet to comprehend. The older woman would have spent well over twice Samantha’s years surviving the dangers of such a rugged and remote place.

  Irena knew, too, of the barrier to the third kingdom being down. Being the sorceress of the village of Stroyza, she had been responsible for watching over that barrier in case it was ever breached and warning others if it was. She probably knew at least some of the terrors from beyond the wall to the north that her people had watched over for thousands of years.

  Richard wondered just how much she knew about the barrier and the third kingdom that had for so long been locked away beyond, a realm where the world of life and death existed together in the same time and place. He needed to have a long talk with the woman to find out just what she knew.

  “We should be away from this place,” Irena murmured as she watched the shadows.

  The mention of the half people had set her on edge, and for good reason. Her husband had been killed by the half people—devoured before her eyes in an attempt to steal his soul for themselves.

  With the barrier to the third kingdom down, the unholy half dead—beings without souls—had now been loosed on the world of the living, attacking anyone they could catch, devouring their flesh in a deranged attempt to capture a soul for themselves. When that barrier had been breached after holding evil back for thousands of years, Irena had left her village to warn people of what was happening. She hadn’t made it far. After killing her husband, the half people had taken her captive. After attempting to use her for their occult purposes, they would have eventually devoured her as they had so many others. Fortunately, Richard had managed to free her along with all the soldiers, Zedd, Nicci, and Cara before that could happen.

  Unfortunately, Cara’s husband, Ben, the general in command of these men, had not made it out alive.

  Everyone turned to look when they heard a distant scream.

  Richard pointed with his sword. “There!”

  CHAPTER

  3

  Just as Richard started out toward the source of the scream, Irena caught his arm.

  “No, Lord Rahl—you can’t. There could be too many of them. We must get you out of here.”

  Richard pulled his arm away as he heard
another scream. “That’s one of our men.”

  She pointed urgently in the direction of the cries. “But it’s too late to save him. The risk would be for nothing.”

  “We don’t know that.” He swept the woman aside on his way past her. “We don’t leave our own behind if there is a chance to save them.”

  Kahlan fell in close behind Richard to block the woman from interfering with him. It was not the time to debate the issue, but more than that, there was nothing to debate. Kahlan knew that as well as Richard. In situations like this, seconds could mean the difference between life and death.

  Besides that, Kahlan could see the rage of the weapon in Richard’s eyes. He was intent on stopping the threat and he would let nothing get in his way.

  She supposed it made sense for Irena to be concerned about Richard’s safety—he was the Lord Rahl, after all, and the leader of the D’Haran Empire. In so many ways, everyone’s survival depended on Richard. But Kahlan wondered how much Irena, being from such a remote place, knew of the wider world. Perhaps more troubling, she wondered how much Irena knew of the unique dangers in her birthplace. Kahlan had to push the issue from her mind as she rushed to stay close to Richard.

  As the entire mass of men turned and raced after Richard, Nicci cut in front of Kahlan to stay close behind him. The woman’s blond hair streamed out behind her like a flag as she followed the Lord Rahl into battle. Richard leaped over a wind-fallen spruce, charging off into the darkness of the dense forest as everyone else gave chase.

  With Cara gone and the sickness of death preventing Kahlan’s or Richard’s power from working, Nicci was obviously intent on staying close to protect both Richard and Kahlan. She, perhaps better than just about anyone, knew how everyone’s survival depended on Richard. Just as Cara would have done, she intended to make sure he was protected.

  Kahlan was thankful that at least the power of Richard’s sword worked for him. His gift didn’t work any better than her power, but the sword had its own magic and he could still depend on that.

  Rather than object to Nicci cutting in front of her, Kahlan simply followed behind the sorceress. She knew that in Cara’s absence it made the most sense for Nicci to be as close as possible in order to protect them both. Besides, there was nothing more important to Kahlan than Richard’s safety. More than his importance to everyone else, he was everything to her and if Nicci could best protect him, then Kahlan wanted the sorceress as close to him as possible.

  Zedd followed on Kahlan’s heels while Samantha and Irena were swept up and carried along with the tide of men rushing up from behind. Some of the men fanned out to the sides, creating protective wings around Richard and Kahlan and making sure that they weren’t taken by surprise from an attack from the sides.

  In the grip of the rage from the sword, Richard wasn’t going to slow for anything and it wasn’t long before he had outdistanced the rest of them. He ran through the woods, weaving his way among the trunks of towering pines, through thickets of brush, over rocks and fallen trees and streams with the kind of practiced abandon that the rest of them couldn’t match. It was like watching an unstoppable shadow slip among the timber to be absorbed into the darkness out ahead.

  More than that, though, the sickness she carried within her was hampering Kahlan’s ability to keep up. It was troubling the way it sapped her strength, leaving her winded long before she ordinarily would have been. Richard had the same sickness of death growing all the time inside him, but it was more advanced in Kahlan. That death within would soon claim them both, but if not stopped it was destined to take her first.

  The way that weakness swiftly drained her strength as she ran after Richard not only surprised her, it alarmed her. Zedd and Nicci had warned her how serious the situation was, and how the inner poisonous touch of death from Jit would steadily grow stronger. If it wasn’t removed, neither Richard nor Kahlan would live much longer.

  As she started losing ground to Richard and Nicci and struggled to get her breath, Zedd put a hand on Kahlan’s back, between her shoulder blades. It was not merely meant to help her keep her balance. While he couldn’t remove what was poisoning her, at least not until they could get back to the People’s Palace, he was trickling his gift into her to add strength to the life within her still fighting for survival. That trickle of power was enough to help her keep up. She knew, though, that it wouldn’t last for long.

  From time to time Kahlan heard the soldier’s screams out ahead of them. The sound of those screams were getting closer. She knew it must be the half people attacking the man, but since they weren’t making any noise she had no idea how many there might be. She hated running headlong into such an unknown situation, but there was no other choice except to leave the man to be killed, and that was not acceptable.

  In the early dawn light, she saw branches sweep out of the darkness at her at the last instant before they whipped past. Sometimes she had to quickly duck to the side to keep from being hit in the face. Sometimes it was too late and she could only close her eyes. Other times, when they sprang back as Richard batted limbs out of his way, they slapped her shoulder.

  At times, if the bough was too large to shove aside or avoid, Richard simply swung his sword as he rushed headlong through the dense woods, sending the limb sailing up and out of his way to come down among those following behind. The men shielded themselves with an arm whenever a branch came down among them. Kahlan struggled to regain sight of Richard as he vanished from time to time among the thick growth of spruce saplings and brush only to reappear again as he bounded up and over a fallen tree trunk or an outcropping of rock.

  At a dead run, breaking through into an open area of the forest with little ground cover among maple and birch trees, they abruptly ran up on a knot of half-naked people smeared with white ash, all hunched over around something on the ground.

  They were Shun-tuk.

  In the weak, early dawn light the Shun-tuk looked like ghosts. All had eye sockets painted with a black, greasy substance. Wide grins of teeth drawn on their faces completed the look, making them resemble skulls. Most of their heads were shaved, but some had a knot of hair remaining at the top that was tied up with strings of beads and bones to keep it standing up straight so that it resembled a fountain of hair.

  Some of the men turned from their prey to look up in surprise as Richard bounded over a boulder and leaped in at them, suddenly screaming in rage, his sword held high in both fists.

  In that frozen instant, Kahlan saw that the startled faces were dripping with blood.

  The Shun-tuk had knives, but they remained in their sheaths.

  Instead, they used only their teeth.

  CHAPTER

  4

  Richard crashed down among the chalky figures, his fury at last unleashed. His blade swung around in an arc, lopping off a shaved head with startled, dark painted eyes. The speed of the weapon was so great that the tip whistled through the air even as the blade continued on to gash open the shoulder of the Shun-tuk beside the headless man, almost completely severing his arm. Richard immediately delivered a powerful side kick to the man rushing in on his other side.

  As some of the half people around Richard toppled to the sides, Kahlan saw the soldier down on the ground under the white figures crowded around him like a pack of wolves in a feeding frenzy. Despite Richard killing several as he charged in, others only glanced sideways up at him, unwilling to relinquish the flesh clenched in their teeth. Others, lost in bloodlust, seemed oblivious of the danger to themselves as they tore flesh from the soldier.

  Even with the half people piled in on him, the soldier still had his sword in his right hand and a knife clutched tightly in his left fist. He kicked and swung his sword past the bodies trying to hold him on the ground and at the same time used his knife to stab at others still trying to get in on the feast.

  His screams were as much rage as pain. Wherever it was not protected by his leather armor his flesh was torn and bloody, but he was quite alive and f
ull of fight.

  It was clear that the soldier had fought fiercely, as any of the First File would have. A number of the white figures lay strewn along the forest floor, a line of bloody bodies marking a trail along which they had fought him to a stop.

  A few of those downed Shun-tuk lying around the soldier were still alive and lay panting in agony as they bled out. Their wounds were clearly unsurvivable. Others, horrifically wounded from the soldiers’ blades, writhed among the ferns and mosses at the side of a small brook as their blood ran down the rocks, turning the moss and water red. Some moaned, but none of them screamed in pain as did most of the wounded Kahlan had seen injured in battle.

  The majority of the downed Shun-tuk, though, were clearly dead. The soldier had not gone down easily and the enemy had paid a heavy price to get him to ground.

  The problem was, there simply had been too many of the half people for him to fight them all off. The danger to themselves seemed less important to these soulless beings than getting at their victim and having a chance to try to steal his soul.

  Richard’s sword arced around to cleanly cleave the head off a chalky figure rising up to grab him and try to pull him down with the soldier. A few others rose up, eager to rip into the new people coming their way in an effort to devour a soul for themselves.

  To Kahlan’s alarm, though, most of them charged Richard as if they recognized him and wanted him more than anyone else.

  Before the Shun-tuk could overwhelm Richard and take him down under the weight of their numbers, the soldiers crashed into the pack of whitewashed figures, driving most back away from Richard. The half people, oblivious of the danger, immediately attacked the soldiers descending on them.

  But teeth were no match for razor-sharp steel.

  The terrible sight reminded Kahlan of blades scything down wheat. It was brutal butchery of savages bent only on murder.

  None of what the soldiers did could match the violence Richard’s sword brought to them. As half people reached for him, his sword took off fingers, hands, arms, heads, and split their bodies nearly in half. It seemed that his blade never paused and each time found its mark, shattering skulls and severing flesh and bone.