Terry Goodkind - Wizard's First Rule

Whenever a bump in the road brought him awake suddenly, he would clutch at her for protection, safety, until she told him it was nothing, and to go back to sleep. He knew that sometimes he slept on the ground, sometimes in the carriage. He saw nothing of the countryside they traveled through, nor did he care. As long as she was near him, that was all that mattered—nothing else was important, except being ready to do as she commanded. A few times, he slowly came awake to find her wedged into the corner with him stretched out, his cloak tucked around him, his head on her breast, as she stroked his hair. When it happened, he tried not to let her know he was awake, so she wouldn’t stop.

When this happened, and he felt the warm comfort of her, he also felt the power in him come awake. He didn’t try to reach it, to hold it—he only noted it. One time when it happened, he recognized it, knew what it was. It was the magic of the sword.

As he lay against her, feeling the need of her, the magic stood within him. He touched it, fondled it, felt its power. It was like the power he had called forth when he was going to kill with the sword, but different in a way he couldn’t understand. The power he had known before, he could no longer feel. Denna had that power now, but this she didn’t. When he tried to grasp the magic, it vanished, like vapor. A dim part of his mind wanted its help, but since he couldn’t control it, call it forth to aid him, he lost interest in it.

As the time passed, his wounds began healing over. Each time he came awake he was a little more alert. By the time Denna announced that they had arrived at their destination, he was able to stand by himself, although he was still not completely clearheaded.

In the darkness, she led him from the carriage. He watched her feet as she walked, keeping the proper slack in the chain attached to her belt. Even though he kept his eyes on her, he still noticed the place they were entering. It was immense, dwarfing the castle at Tamarang. Walls stretched off into the nothingness of the distance, towers and roofs rose to dizzying heights. He was aware enough to note that the design of the vast structure was elegant and graceful. It was imposing, but not harsh, not forbidding.

Denna led him through halls of polished marble and granite. Columns held majestic arches to the sides. As they walked on and on, he noticed how his strength had grown. He wouldn’t have been able to stand for this long even a few days ago.

They saw no other people. Richard looked up at her braid, and thought about how pretty her hair was, how lucky he was to have such a fine mate. At the thought of his caring for her, the power rose up. Before it had a chance to fade, the dim, locked-away part of his mind grabbed it, held it, while the rest of his mind thought about his affection for her. The realization that he had control of it made him stop thinking about her, and grab the hope of escape. The power evaporated.

His heart sank. What did it matter, he thought—he was never going to escape, and why would he want to anyway? He was Denna’s mate. Where would he go? What would he do without her to tell him what to do?

Denna went through a door, closing it behind him. A window with a pointed top was trimmed with simple drapes and open to the darkness outside. There was a bed with a thick blanket and fat pillows. The floor was polished wood. Lamps stood lit on the table next to the bed, and on the table with a chair on the other side of the room. There were cabinets of dark wood built into one wall next to another door. A stand held a basin and pitcher.

Denna unhooked his chain. “These are my quarters. Since you are my mate, you will be permitted to sleep here if you please me.” She hooked the loop over the post of the footboard, snapped her fingers, and pointed at the floor at the foot of the bed. “You may sleep there tonight. On the floor.”

He looked at the floor. The Agiel laid on the top of his shoulder took him to his knees.

“I said on the floor. Now.”

“Yes, Mistress Denna. I’m sorry, Mistress Denna.”

“I’m exhausted. I don’t want to hear another sound out of you tonight. Understand?”

He nodded, afraid to voice his agreement.

“Good.” She flopped facedown in the bed and was asleep in moments.

Richard rubbed the hurt in his shoulder. It had been a while since she had used the Agiel on him. At least she hadn’t chosen to draw blood. Maybe, he reasoned, she didn’t want blood in her quarters. No, Denna liked his blood. He lay down on the floor. He knew that tomorrow she was going to hurt him some more. He tried not to think about it—he was just getting healed from before.

He was awake before her—the shock of being awakened by the Agiel was something he wanted to avoid. A bell rang with a long peal. Denna woke, lay on her back awhile, saying nothing, then sat up, checking that he was awake.

“Morning devotions,” she announced. “That was the bell, the call. After devotions, you will be trained.”

“Yes, Mistress Denna.”

She hooked his chain to her belt and led him once more through the halls to a square, open to the sky, with pillars supporting arches on all four sides. The center of the square, under the open sky, was white sand, raked in concentric lines around a dark, pitted rock. On the top of the rock was a bell—the one he had heard before. On the tile floor among the columns were people on their knees, bent forward, with their foreheads touching the tile.

The people chanted in unison. “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

Over and over they chanted the same thing. Denna snapped her fingers, pointing at the floor. Richard kneeled down, imitating the others. Denna kneeled next to him, putting her forehead to the tiles. She started chanting in unison with the others, but stopped when she heard he wasn’t.

“That’s two hours.” She frowned darkly at him. “If I have to remind you again, it’s six.”

“Yes, Mistress Denna.”

He began chanting along. He had to concentrate on a vision of Denna’s braid to be able to say the words without bringing on the pain of the magic. He wasn’t sure how long the chanting lasted, but he thought it was about two hours. His back hurt from bending with his head to the floor. The words never varied. After a time they melted into the sound of gibberish, feeling like mush in his mouth.

The bell rang twice, and the people rose to their feet, going off in different directions. Denna rose. Richard stayed, where he was, unsure of what to do. He knew he might get in trouble for staying where he was, but knew if he got up and wasn’t supposed to, the punishment would be much worse. He heard footsteps coming toward them, but didn’t look up.

A woman’s husky voice spoke. “Sister Denna, how good to see you’ve returned. D’Hara has been lonely without you.”

D’Hara! Through the fog of his training, the word ignited his thoughts. Instantly, he brought to mind the vision of Denna’s braid, protecting him.

“Sister Constance. It’s good to be home, and see your face again.”

Richard recognized the ring of sincerity in Denna’s voice. The Agiel touched the back of his neck, taking his breath away. It felt as if a rope were tightening around his throat. By the way it was held, he knew it wasn’t Denna’s.

“And what have we here?” Constance asked.

She took the Agiel away. Coughing in pain, Richard gasped for air. He came to his feet when Denna told him to do so, wishing he could hide behind her. Constance was a good head shorter than Denna, her stout figure dressed in a leather outfit like Denna’s, only brown. Her dull brown hair was done in a braid, too, but didn’t have the fullness of Denna’s. The look on her face made it seem she had just eaten something she didn’t like.