Terry Goodkind - Confessor - Chainfire Trilogy Part 3

“This is no time to get sloppy or lenient,” she called after them. “Too much is at risk.”

Zedd accepted her warning with a nod. “We’ll be back after I look into it.”

Cara cast Nicci a look back over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there and I’m not in the mood to be lenient. In fact, I’m not going to be in a good mood again until I see Lord Rahl alive and safe.”

“You have good moods?” Zedd asked as they hurried away.

Cara scowled at him. “I’m frequently cheerful and pleasant. Are you suggesting that I’m not?”

Zedd held up his hands in surrender. “No, no. Cheerful describes you perfectly.”

“Good, then.”

“In fact, cheerful would come even before bloodthirsty in my book.”

“Come to think of it, I think I like bloodthirsty even better.”

Nicci couldn’t share the spirit of their banter. She wasn’t good at making people laugh. She frequently found herself perplexed by the way Zedd and others could ease tension with such exchanges.

Nicci knew all too well the nature of the people who were trying to kill them. She had once been one of those people of the Order. She had been as merciless as she had been deadly.

She had never once seen Emperor Jagang being jovial or lighthearted. He was hardly a man given to repartee. She had spent a great deal of time with him, and he was never anything but consistently lethal. His cause was deadly serious to him and he was fanatically dedicated to it. Knowing the kind of people coming for them, people like she herself had once been, and understanding their heartless nature, Nicci didn’t feel that she could be any less serious than they.

She watched Zedd, Cara, and Rikka hurry down the first hall to the right, heading for the stairway.

As they started up, Nicci suddenly understood the sound, the vibration she felt.

It was an alarm, of sorts.

She knew why Rikka didn’t recognize it.

She opened her mouth to call out to the others just as the world seemed to come grinding to a halt.

A dark cloud poured down the stairwell. It was like a million-speckled suggestion of a snake in midair, rolling, turning, twisting, thinning, thickening as it came roaring down the stairwell. The rolling, fluttering rumble was deafening.

Thousands of bats poured around the corner, a fat snake of them in midair, a thing alive made up of untold numbers of the little creatures. The sight of so many thousands of them coalesced into a single moving shape was riveting. The racket reverberated off the walls, filling the split in the mountain with a riot of noise. The bats seemed to be flying in a panic, their fused form coiling around the corner in a rush as they bolted from something.

Zedd, Cara, and Rikka seemed frozen where they had begun to climb the stairs.

And then the fleeing bats were gone, driven before some terror coming through the Keep behind them. The soft, fluttering sound they left in their wake echoed its muted alarm through the hall as the bats fled into deeper darkness.

That distant sound was what Rikka had heard but not understood.

Staring at the stairs from where the bats had come, Nicci felt as if she were frozen and immobile in an expectant, silent moment in time, waiting to breathe, waiting for something unimaginable. With a rising sense of panic, she realized that in fact she really couldn’t move.

And then a dark shape came sweeping down the stairs like an ill wind. Yet, at the same time, it inexplicably appeared to hang motionless. It seemed composed of swirling black shapes and flowing shadows, creating an inky eddy of obscurity. The dizzying shape of it, the entwining currents of darkness, implied movement that it didn’t have.

Nicci blinked, and it was gone.

She urgently renewed her effort to move, but she felt as if she was suspended in warm wax. She could breathe to a small extent, and make headway, but only in the most impossibly slow fashion. Every inch took monumental effort and seemed to take an eternity. The world had become impossibly thick as everything slowed toward a halt.

In the passageway, just behind the others in the hall at the bottom of the stairs, the shape appeared again, suspended in midair above the stone floor. It looked like a woman in a flowing black dress floating underwater.

Even in the midst of growing terror, Nicci found the exotic sight strangely fascinating. The others, with the intruder already past them, were in mid-stride ascending the stairs, as still as if caught in a painting.

The woman’s wiry black hair lifted lazily out all around her bloodless face. The loose fabric of the black dress swirled as if in whirls of water. Within the slow turbulence of black cloth and hair, the woman herself seemed nearly unmoving.

It looked like nothing so much as if she were floating under murky water.

Then the figure was gone again.

No, not underwater, Nicci realized.

In the sliph.

That’s how Nicci felt, too. It was that kind of strange, otherworldly, suspended sensation of drifting. It was impossibly slow and at the same time blindingly fast.

The figure suddenly appeared again, closer this time.

Nicci tried to call out, but she couldn’t. She tried to lift her arms to cast a web, but she drifted too slowly. She thought it might take an entire day just to lift her arm.

Sparkling shards of light glimmered and flashed in the air between Nicci and the others. Magic, she knew, cast by the wizard. It fell far short of the intruder. Even though the brief spate of power sputtered out without having any effect, Nicci was astounded that Zedd had managed to ignite it at all. She had tried much the same thing without any result.

Dark trailers of cloth drifted, fluidly flapping through the hallway. Snaking shapes and shadows curled around as they moved ever so slow. The figure wasn’t walking, or running. It glided, floated, flowed, almost unmoving within the swirling cloth of the dress.

Then it was gone again.

In a blink, it reappeared, much closer yet. The ghostlike skin stretched tight over a bony face looking as if it had never been touched by sunlight. Snarls of weightless black hair rose up with wisps of the flowing black dress.

It was as disorienting a sight as Nicci had ever seen. She felt as if she were drowning. Panic welled up in her at the feeling of not being able to breathe fast enough, of trying to get the air she needed. Her burning lungs were unable to work any faster than the rest of her.

When Nicci focused her gaze, the figure of the woman was gone. It occurred to her that her eyes, too, were too slow. The hallway was empty again. It seemed that her focus could not keep up with the movement.

Nicci thought that maybe she was having some kind of hallucination brought on by the spells she had cast, by the power of Orden she had tapped into. She wondered if it could be some kind of aftereffect of the spells. Maybe it was Orden itself come to claim her for tampering with such forbidden powers.

That had to be it—something to do with all the dangerous things she had conjured.

The woman appeared again, as if floating up through the murky deep, emerging suddenly into view out of the dark abyss.

This time Nicci could clearly see the woman’s austere, angular features.

Blanched blue eyes fixed on Nicci as if there was nothing else in her world. That scrutiny touched Nicci’s very soul with icy dread. The woman’s eyes were so pale that they seemed as if they had to be sightless, but Nicci knew that this woman could see just fine, not only in the light, but also in the blackest cave, or under a rock where the light of day never touched her.

The woman smiled as wicked a grin as Nicci had ever seen. It was the smile of someone who had no fear but enjoyed causing it, a woman who knew she had everything under her mastery. It was a smile that sent a slow shiver through Nicci.