Terry Goodkind - The Pillars of Creation

As staggering a blow as it was, it was not fatal to the great beast of the Imperial Order army. The encampment was immense, and precisely because it was so vast, much of it had survived. According to the emperor, it was only a matter of time before they replaced the dead with fresh troops, and then he would unleash his men to seek vengeance on the people of the New World.

Jennsen was beginning to understand why Sebastian had always been so adamant that all magic must eventually be eliminated. There was no good that she could think of that could offset such wickedness. She hoped magic could at least spare his life.

Despite Emperor Jagang’s conviction that their forces would soon recover, there were difficult times ahead for them. Much of the food had been destroyed, along with vast amounts of equipment and weapons. Every tent in the entire encampment had been at least knocked down. It was a cold night and many men would be exposed to the elements. Fortunately, even though the emperor’s tent had been flattened, men had been able to erect it again for the injured emperor and Sebastian.

Jennsen paced, burning, not only with worry, but with rage. She doubted that a greater monster than Richard Rahl had ever lived. Surely, no single man had ever been the cause of so much suffering in the world. It was inconceivable to her that anyone could have such a lust for power that they would lead a cause that could murder so many people. She didn’t see how Richard Rahl could be a part of Creation; surely, he was the Keeper’s disciple.

Tears ran down Jennsen’s cheeks at her gnawing apprehension. She prayed fervently to the good spirits that Sebastian would not die, that the Sisters could heal him.

In agonizing worry, she halted in her pacing and leaned on a table she had not seen the last time she had been in the tent. When the tent had fallen, it had been hastily erected, and this table, probably from the emperor’s private quarters, apparently hadn’t been replaced in its proper location. There was a small bookcase at the rear of the top.

Looking for something that might divert her mind from the ache of anxiety while she waited for word of Sebastian, Jennsen idly scanned the old books. She didn’t understand the words on any of them. For some reason, though, one in particular drew her attention—something about the rhythm of the foreign words. She pulled the book out and turned it toward the candlelight, trying to read the title. She ran her fingertips over the four gilded words on the cover. They made no sense to her, yet they seemed somehow almost familiar.

Jennsen gasped in surprise when the Sister, who had been over by the door, lifted the book from her hands. “These belong to Emperor Jagang. Besides being very old and very fragile, they are quite valuable. His Excellency doesn’t like anyone to touch his books.”

Jennsen watched the woman inspect the book for any damage. “I’m sorry. I meant no harm.”

“You are a very special guest, and we have been instructed to accord you every privilege, but these are His Excellency’s most prized works. He is a man of great learning. He collects books. As a guest, I think you should respect his wishes that no one but he touch them.”

“Of course. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” Jennsen chewed her lower lip as she looked back at the curtain drawn across the doorway to the back, where Sebastian was being seen to. She wished there would be some word. She turned back to the Sister. “I was only puzzled because I’ve never seen such words.”

“These are in the tongue of the emperor’s homeland.”

“Really?” Jennsen gestured to the book the Sister was returning to its place. “Do you know what it says?”

“I don’t know the language very well, but . . . let me see if I might be able to tell.”

In the dim light, the Sister squinted at the book for a time, her lips moving silently as she worked at the translation, before finally sliding the volume back in place.

“It says, The Pillars of Creation .”

“ The Pillars of Creation . . . What can you tell me about such a book?”

The woman shrugged. “There’s a place in the Old World called by that name. I would guess the book must be about that.”

Before Jennsen could ask anything else, Sister Perdita suddenly emerged from behind the rear partition of the tent, the candles casting harsh shadows across her somber face.

Jennsen rushed to meet her. “How are they?” she asked in an urgent whisper. “They’re both going to be all right, aren’t they?”

Sister Perdita’s gaze shifted to the Sister who had just replaced the book. “Sister, you are needed by the others. Please go help them.”

“But His Excellency told me to guard—”

“His Excellency is the one who needs the help. The healing is not going well. Go and help the Sisters.”

At that, the woman nodded and rushed off to the back.

“Why isn’t the healing going well?” Jennsen asked after the Sister had vanished behind the heavy curtain.

“A healing that is started and then interrupted, as Emperor Jagang’s was, creates unique problems—especially since the Sister who started it is dead. Each person brings unique ability to the task, so to go in later and try to unravel exactly how it was started, much less build on it, makes the healing much more difficult and delicate.” She offered a small smile. “But we’re confident that His Excellency will be fine. It’s just a matter of some concentrated work by the Sisters of the Light. I imagine they will be at it most of the night. By morning, I’m sure everything will be under control and the emperor will be as strong as ever.”

Jennsen swallowed. “What about Sebastian?”

Sister Perdita appraised her with a cool, unreadable look. “I would say that depends on you.”

“On me? What do you mean? What do I have to do with healing him?”

“Everything.”

“But, what is it you could possibly need from me? You have but to ask. I’ll do anything. Please, you must save Sebastian.”

The Sister pursed her lips as she clasped her hands. “His recovery hinges on your commitment to eliminating Richard Rahl.”

Jennsen was baffled. “Well, yes, of course, I want to eliminate Richard—”

“I said commitment, not words. I need more than mere words.”

Jennsen stared a moment. “I don’t understand. I’ve traveled a long and difficult journey to come here so that I might secure the help of the Sisters of the Light so that I can get close enough to Lord Rahl to put my knife in his heart.”

Sister Perdita smiled that terrible smile of hers. “Well then, if that’s true, then Sebastian should have nothing to worry about.”

“Please, Sister, just tell me what it is you want.”

“I want Richard Rahl dead.”

“Then we share the same goal. If anything, I’d venture that I feel more strongly about it than you ever could.”

One of the Sister’s eyebrows lifted. “Really. Emperor Jagang said that the Sister who was trying to heal him, up in the palace, was killed by wizard’s fire.”

“That’s right.”

“And did you see the man who did it?”

Jennsen thought it strange that Sister Perdita didn’t ask how it was that she wasn’t also killed by the wizard’s fire. “He was an old man. Skinny, with wavy white hair sticking out in disarray.”

“First Wizard Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander,” the Sister said in a venomous hiss.

“Yes,” Jennsen said, “I heard someone call him Wizard Zorander. I don’t know him.”

Sister Perdita glared. “Wizard Zorander is Richard Rahl’s grandfather.”

Jennsen’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t know.”

“Yet here was a wizard doing all this damage, nearly killing Emperor Jagang, and you—who claim to be so committed—failed to kill him.”