Terry Goodkind - Stone of Tears

Richard staggered to a stop, the pain of the scar on his chest taking his breath. The agony seared through him. From deep within, he pulled resolve and made himself move despite the torment. Each step only increased the pain. It felt as if his flesh were burning off his bones and the marrow itself were boiling. In the calm at the center of the storm of anger, he was able to ignore it.

Richard pulled the Stone of Tears off over his head. He held the leather thong out in his hands, the Stone dangling before Darken Rahl’s face. Rahl shrank back.

“You will wear this in the depths of death. Forever.” Richard stepped closer. “Kneel.”

The glowing form sank to its knees. The glowing eyes stayed on the Stone in the air above. Richard lowered the leather thong, to hang it over the head of his father’s spirit. He paused.

Over Darken Rahl’s head, behind him, he saw the altar that held the boxes. The open one in the center, alive with things beyond knowing, was sending its green light upward in a beacon.

Richard remembered what Ann, Nathan, and Warren had told him. If he used the Stone for selfish reasons, for hate, it would tear the veil. He wanted more than anything to send Darken Rahl to the depths of the underworld, to punish him forever for what he had done. But that would only accomplish what he had already decided was beyond price.

Besides, he had brought this on himself. That he had not done it intentionally made no difference. Life was not fair, it simply existed. If you accidentally stepped on a poison snake, you got bitten. Intentions were irrelevant.

“I have caused my own grief,” Richard whispered. “I must suffer the consequences of my own actions. I cannot make others pay for what I have caused, intentionally or not.”

Richard hung the Stone of Tears back around his own neck. Darken Rahl came to his feet in alarm.

“Richard . . . you don’t know what you’re saying. Punish me. Hang the stone around my neck. Have your vengeance!”

Richard turned partway toward the center of the Garden of Life and held out his hand. The round skrin bone, in the pool of blue fire, hurtled to his palm. His magic protected him.

He held the skrin bone up high. In the grip of rage, in the grip of calm, he called the power onward. It erupted from his fist.

Lightning, yellow and hot, shot forth into Darken Rahl.

Lightning, black and cold, shot forth into Darken Rahl.

They twisted together in the unleashed wrath of the skrin.

A ripple of total darkness swept across the room, and when it lifted, the lightning, and Darken Rahl, were gone. The skrin bone felt cool in his fist.

The green light from the box glowed brighter, making the room hum. Richard pulled the Stone of Tears from his neck. The leather thong fell away as the Stone turned to black in his palm.

Richard thrust out his hand. The Stone of Tears flew to the green light, floating in it a moment, rotating in the beam. The green light faded as the Stone of Tears sank toward the box, becoming transparent, until it passed from existence. The beacon of green light vanished, plunging the Garden of Life into silence.

Richard held the skrin bone out in his fist, and once again the twin lightning erupted, thundering across the distance. Flashes of white-hot light and ice-cold blackness washed over him. When it ended, and silence rang in his ears once more, the three boxes sat on the altar.

Each was closed.

Richard knew they could not be opened again without the book, and the book existed only in his head. The boxes of Orden, and the gateway they represented, would remain closed for all time.

Richard heard a metallic snap. He felt something brush at his neck, felt something fall at his feet.

He looked down to see the collar, the Rada’Han, on the ground. It was off his neck. He was free of it.

The pain, too, was gone. He felt his chest. The scar was gone.

In the silence, Richard stood dazed. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. He didn’t know how he had done it.

It was over.

For him, everything was over.

Kahlan was going to die this day.

And then he was running. The day wasn’t over yet.

As he emerged from the doors of the Garden of Life, the five Mord-Sith surrounded him. He ignored them as he ran. In the corridor beyond, a sweaty, dirty General Trimack waited with hundreds of men just as grimy-looking. Many were bloody.

With a cacophony of clanging armor and weapons, the men as far as he could see down the smoky corridor fell to their knees, fists clapped to hearts. General Trimack returned to his feet. As he took three long strides toward Richard, Cara moved protectively in front of him.

“Get out of my way, woman!”

Cara didn’t budge. “No one touches Lord Rahl.”

“I’m his protection just as much as . . .”

“Stop it, both of you.”

Cara relaxed and stepped to the side. General Trimack gripped Richard by the shoulders. “Lord Rahl, you’ve done it. It took a long time, but you did it.”

“Done what? What do you mean it took a long time?”

His eyebrows lifted. “You’ve been in there most of the day.”

Richard’s breath faltered. “What?”

“We fought them fiercely for hours, but we were being pushed back. We were outnumbered ten or fifteen to one. Then you sent the lightning. I’ve never seen anything like it.

“Wizard Zorander told me that the palace is a huge power spell drawn on the ground of the plateau, drawn to protect and give power to the Lord Rahl. I never would have believed it until I saw it myself. The whole of the palace was alive with lightning. It flickered through every wall in the place.

“Every one of the those bastard generals who was loyal to Darken Rahl was cut down by the lightning. Their troops who fought on were ripped apart by it, too. Those who laid down their weapons and joined us were unharmed.”

Richard didn’t know what to say. “I’m glad, General, but I can’t take credit. I was in there the whole time. I’m not even sure what I did in there, much less what happened out here.”

“We are the steel against steel. You did your part. You were the Lord Rahl, the magic against magic. We are all proud of you.” General Trimack gave Richard a clap on the shoulder. “Whatever you did, you must have chosen right.”

Richard put his fingers to his forehead, trying to think. “What time is it?”

“Like I said, you were in there most of the day, while we fought out here. It’s near to late afternoon.”

Richard clutched at his chest. “I have to go.”

He started running. Everyone charged off after him. Before long, he was confused by the huge, converging halls. He slid to a stop on the slick marble floor and turned to Cara at his hip.

“Which way!”

“To where, Lord Rahl?”

“Where I came in! The fastest way!”

“Follow us, Lord Rahl.”

Richard ran behind the five Mord-Sith. Behind him came what seemed to be the entire army of the palace. The racket of all the armor and boots echoed off the walls and ceilings high overhead. Columns, arches, staircases, devotion squares, and intersections of halls flew past. They raced down halls and down stairs.

Richard was winded when nearly an hour later he went through the doors between the giant columns and out into the cold air. Soldiers poured out behind. He ran down the steps four at a time.

Scarlet lay on her side in the snow, the glossy red scales rising and falling with her labored breathing.

“Scarlet! You’re still alive!” Richard rubbed her snout. “I was so worried.”

“Richard. I see you have managed to survive. It must not have been as difficult as you thought.” She struggled to give a dragon’s grin. It faded. “I’m sorry, my friend, but I cannot fly. My wing is injured. I tried, but until it is healed, I’m afraid I’m stuck on the ground.”