Terry Goodkind - Blood of the Fold

As they came in sight of the six-foot-thick stone door, Richard knew something was wrong. Not only could he see an eerie light beyond, but the hairs at the back of his neck were standing on end, and he could feel the whisper of magic against his arms, like spiderwebs brushing the hairs.

He rubbed at the tickling sensation on his arms as he leaned close. “Do you feel anything odd?”

She shook her head. “But there’s something funny about the light.”

Kahlan’s step faltered. Richard saw the body at the same time as they approached the round opening into the vaults. Ahead, a woman lay curled up on the floor, as if she were asleep, but Richard knew she wasn’t sleeping. She was as still as the stone.

As they stepped closer, they could see beyond the wall to the right that there near to a dozen dead Blood of the Fold scattered about the floor. Richard winced at the sight, and a queasy feeling settled in his stomach. Each man was sliced cleanly in half, armor, cape, and all, at midchest. The floor was a lake of blood.

His apprehension burgeoned with every slow step toward the round opening in the rock.

“Look, I have to go get something first,” he said. “You wait here until I get back. It should only take a few minutes.”

Kahlan tugged him back by his shirtsleeve. “You know the rules.”

“What rules?”

“You’re not allowed to get more than ten feet from me for the rest of your life, or I get angry.”

Richard stared into her green eyes. “I’d rather have you angry than dead.”

Her brow drew down into a scowl. “You only think that now. I’ve been waiting too long to be with you to let you go off by yourself now. What’s so important that would make you want to go in there? We can try to do something from out here—throw in torches, set the place ablaze, or something. All that paper should burn like tinder grass. We don’t need to go in there.”

Richard smiled. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

She cuffed his arm. “Talk. What are we risking our lives for?”

Richard yielded with a sigh. “There’s a book of prophecy in the back that’s over three thousand years old. It has prophecies in it about me. It helped me before. If we’re successful at destroying all these books, I’d like to at least take that one with us. It may be a help again.”

“What’s it say about you?”

“It calls me ‘ fuer grissa ost drauka .’ ”

“What does that mean?”

Richard turned back to the vault. “The bringer of death.”

She was silent a moment. “So how do we get back there?”

Richard surveyed the dead soldiers. “Well, for sure we don’t walk.” He held his hand up to his chest. “Something cut them down at about this high. Whatever we do, we don’t stand up.”

At about that height, a wafer-thin haze, like a stratified layer of smoke, hung in the air in the vault room. It seemed to be glowing, as if lit from something, but Richard couldn’t tell what.

On their hands and knees, they crawled into the vault and under the strange blush of light. They stayed near the wall until they reached the bookshelves so they wouldn’t have to crawl through the pools of blood. Once beneath the glowing haze, it seemed even more peculiar. It didn’t seem to be like any fog or smoke Richard had ever seen before; it seemed to be made of light.

A grating sound caused them to pause, motionless. Richard looked back over his shoulder and saw the six-foot-thick stone door swinging closed. He judged that no matter how fast they moved, they wouldn’t be able to make it back before the door closed shut.

Kahlan turned from the door. “Are we locked in here? How are we going to get out? Is there another way out?”

“It’s the only way out, but I can open it,” Richard said. “The door works in conjunction with a shield. If I put my hand to the metal plate on the wall, it’ll open.”

Her green eyes studied his face. “Richard, are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. It always worked in the past.”

“Richard, after all we’ve been through, now that we’re together, I want both of us to get out of here alive.”

“We will. We have to; there are people who need our help.”

“In Aydindril?”

He nodded, trying to find the words for what he had been wanting to say to her, words to fill the space he feared was between them, the space he feared he had put there.

“Kahlan, I didn’t do what I did there because I wanted something for myself—I swear. I want you to know that. I know how much I’ve hurt you, but it was the only thing I could think to do before it was too late. I only did it because I truly believe that it’s our only chance to keep the Midlands from falling to the Imperial Order.

“I know that the goal of the Confessors is to protect people, not to simply hold dominion. I trusted that you would see that I was acting on those goals, if not your wishes. I wanted to protect people, not rule them, but I’ve been heartsick over what I’ve done to you.”

Dead silence stretched in the stone room for a long moment. “Richard, when I first read your letter, I was crushed. A sacred trust was placed in my hands, and I didn’t want to be known as the Mother Confessor who lost the Midlands. On the way here, with that collar around my neck, I’ve had a lot of time to think.

“The Sisters did something noble tonight. They’ve sacrificed a three-thousand-year legacy for a higher purpose: to help people. I may not be happy about what you did, and you still have some explaining to do, but I’ll listen with love in my heart, not just for you, but for the people of the Midlands who need us.

“Over the weeks as we traveled here, I thought about how we must live in the future and not the past. I want the future to be a place where we can live in peace and safety. That’s more important than anything else. I know you, and I know that you wouldn’t do as you did for selfish reasons.”

Richard brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “I’m proud of you, Mother Confessor.”

She kissed his fingers. “Later, when people aren’t trying to kill us and we have the time, I’ll fold my arms and frown and tap my foot like the Mother Confessor is supposed to, while you stutter and stammer and try to explain the sense of what you did, but for now, could we just get out of this place?”

His worry eased, Richard smiled and started off again, crawling past the rows of bookcases. The thin layer of glowing haze over their heads seemed to stretch across the entire room. Richard wished he knew what it was.

Kahlan hurried closer to his side. Richard checked for trouble down each row they passed, guiding them around the inexplicable feel of danger whenever he encountered it. He didn’t know if the sense of danger was a true perception or not, but he dared not ignore the feelings. He was learning to trust in his instincts and be less concerned with proof.

When they entered the small alcove in the back, he scanned the books on the shelf, and saw the one he wanted. The problem was that it was above the level of the haze. He knew better than to try to reach through it; he didn’t know exactly what the glow of light was, but he knew it was magic of some sort, and he had seen what it had done to the soldiers.

With Kahlan’s help, they rocked the bookcase until it fell over. When it toppled against the table, the books pitched out, but the one he wanted landed on the table. The layer of glowing haze hovered mere inches above the book. Richard carefully cased his hand along the tabletop, feeling the tingling sensation of the magic floating just above his arm. At last, he caught the book with his fingers and drew it off the edge.

“Richard, something’s wrong.”