Terry Goodkind - Stone of Tears

His eyes went wide. “You mean it’s still alive?”

Zedd grunted to indicate that it was so. “The sooner the better, Commander.”

The men already had their crescent axes unhooked from their belts, waiting for the order. The commander gave them a nod and they charged onto the ice, swinging before they slid to a stop.

He lowered his voice. “Wizard Zorander, what is that thing?”

Zedd looked from the man’s face over to Chase, who was listening intently. He held the boundary warden’s gaze. “It’s a screeling.” Chase didn’t show any reaction; the boundary warden rarely did. Zedd turned back to the commander.

The big man’s blue eyes were wide. “The screelings are loose?” he whispered. “Wizard Zorander . . . you can’t be serious.”

Zedd studied the man’s face seeing scars he hadn’t seen before, scars earned in battles to the death. For a D’Haran soldier, there rarely was any other kind. This was a man not used to letting fear show in his eyes. Even in the face of death.

Zedd sighed. He hadn’t slept in days. After the quads had come and tried to capture Kahlan, and she thought Richard had been killed, she had gone into the Con Dar, the blood rage, killing their attackers. She, Chase, and Zedd had walked for three days and nights to reach the palace, for her to extract vengeance. There was no stopping a Confessor in the grip of the Con Dar, that ancient mix of magics. Then they had been captured, and discovered Richard alive. That was only yesterday, but it seemed forever ago.

Darken Rahl had worked all night drawing forth the Magic of Orden from the three boxes as they had watched, helpless, and only this morning was he killed by opening the wrong box. Killed by the Wizard’s First Rule, wielded by Richard. Proof that Richard had the gift, even if Richard didn’t believe it, for only one with the gift could use the Wizard’s First Rule on a wizard of Darken Rahl’s talent.

Zedd glanced over momentarily at the men hacking at the screeling in the ice. “What is your name, Commander?”

The man stiffened proudly to attention. “Commander General Trimack, First File of the Palace Guard.”

“First File? What are they?”

Pride stiffened the man’s jaw even more. “We are the ring of steel around Lord Rahl himself, Wizard Zorander. Two thousand strong. We fall to a man before harm gets a glance at Lord Rahl.”

Zedd nodded. “Commander General Trimack, a man in your position knows that one of the responsibilities of rank is to bear the burden of knowledge in silence and solitude.”

“I do.”

“Your knowledge that this creature is a screeling is one of those burdens. For the time being anyway.”

Trimack let out a heavy breath. “I understand.” He looked over to the people on the floor across the hall. “About the injured, Wizard Zorander?”

Zedd had respect for a soldier who held concern for wounded innocents. His disregard before had been duty, not callousness. His instinct had been to meet the attack.

Zedd started across the hall with Trimack at his side. “You know Darken Rahl is dead?”

“Yes. I was in the grand courtyard earlier today. I saw the new Lord Rahl before he flew away on the red dragon.”

“And you will serve Richard as loyally as you have served in the past?”

“He is a Rahl, is he not?”

“He is a Rahl.”

“And he has the gift?”

“He does.”

Trimack nodded. “To the last man. Before harm gets a glance at him.”

Zedd glanced over. “He will not be an easy man to serve under. He’s headstrong.”

“He is a Rahl. That says the same thing.”

Zedd smiled in spite of himself. “He is also my grandson, although he doesn’t know it yet. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t even know he is a Rahl. Or the Lord Rahl. Richard might not take well to the position he finds himself in. But someday, he is going to need you. I would take it as a personal favor, Commander General Trimack, if you would give him a little understanding.”

Trimack’s eyes surveyed the area, ever ready for any new danger. “I would give him my life.”

“I think understanding would serve him better in the beginning. He thinks of himself as nothing more than a woods guide. He is a leader by nature and by birth, but not by his own appraisal. He will not want anything to do with it, but it has come to him nonetheless.”

At last a smile came to Trimack’s face. “Done.” He stopped and turned to the wizard. “I am a D’Haran soldier. I serve the Lord Rahl. But the Lord Rahl must also serve us. I am the steel against steel. He must be the magic against magic. Without the steel, he may still survive, but without the magic, we will not. Now tell me what a screeling is doing out of the underworld.”

Zedd sighed and at last nodded. “Your former Lord Rahl was meddling with dangerous magic. Underworld magic. He tore the veil between this world and the underworld.”

“Bloody fool. He’s supposed to serve us, not take us into eternal night. Someone should have killed him.”

“Someone did. Richard.”

Trimack grunted. “Then Lord Rahl is already serving us.”

“A few days ago, some would have viewed that thought as treason.”

“It is a greater treason to deliver the living to the dead.”

“Yesterday you would have killed Richard to keep him from harming Darken Rahl.”

“And yesterday he would have killed me to get at his foe. But now we serve each other. Only a fool walks into the future backward.”

Zedd nodded and offered a small, but warm, smile of respect, but then his eyes narrowed as he leaned closer. “If the veil is not closed, Commander, and the Keeper is loosed on the world, everyone will share the same fate. It won’t be just D’Hara, but the whole of the world that is consumed. From what I have read of the prophecies, Richard may be the only one who can close the veil. You just remember that, if harm tries to get a glance at Richard.”

Trimack’s eyes were ice. “Steel against steel, that he may be the magic against magic.”

“Good. You have it right.”

Zedd surveyed the dead and dying as he approached. It was impossible to avoid walking through the blood. His heart ached at seeing the hurt. Only one screeling. What if more came?

“Commander, send for some healers. There are more here than I can tend to.”

“Already done, Wizard Zorander.”

Zedd nodded and began checking the living. Soldiers of the First File were spread out among the bodies, pulling the dead, many of whom were their own, out of the way, and comforting the hurt. Zedd put his fingers to the sides of foreheads to feel the injuries, to feel what a healer could care for and what required more.

He touched a young soldier laboring to breathe through a gurgle of blood. Zedd grunted at what he felt. He glanced down and saw rib bones pulled through a fist-sized hole in his breastplate. Zedd’s stomach wanted to erupt. Trimack knelt on the other side of the young man. The wizard’s eyes flicked up at the commander, and the other nodded his understanding. The young man’s remaining breaths of life numbered in the few dozen.

“Go on,” the commander said in a quiet voice, “I’ll stay with the lad.”

Zedd moved on as Trimack gripped the young man’s hand in his own and began telling a reassuring lie. Three women in long brown skirts sewn with rows of pockets came up in a rush. Their mature faces took in the scene without flinching.

With bandages and poultices pulled from their big pockets, the three women descended on the wounded and began stitching and administering potions. Most wounds were within the skill of the women to heal, or else beyond the skill of the wizard. Zedd asked one of the three, the one who looked least likely to pay heed to protests, to go see to Chase.