Terry Goodkind - Wizard's First Rule

“Not anymore. She is in the Con Dar.”

“Stand there and wait,” she said to Nass.

With graceful smoothness, Kahlan walked to the wizard. She stopped, and lifted her broken arm to him.

Her eyes had a glaze to them. “Fix this for me, please. I need it.”

Zedd took his eyes from hers and looked down at the arm. He reached out and took it gently, speaking softly to distract her mind from the pain while he gripped above and below the break, pulling, setting the bone. She didn’t cry out, or even flinch. He wondered if she even felt it. Tenderly, his fingers surrounded the damage, letting the warmth of the magic flow into her, taking the cold pain into himself, feeling it, suffering with it, tolerating it with resolve.

His breathing stopped momentarily with the sharpness of the hurt. He felt all of her hurt—it mixed with his own pain, threatening to overwhelm him, until he was able to put it down at last. He felt the bone knit together, and added more magic to protect and strengthen it until it could heal the rest of the way on its own. He removed his hands from her at last, finished. Her green eyes came up to his, and the cold anger in them was frightening.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Wait here.”

She returned to Demmin Nass, who stood where he had been told to wait.

There were tears in his eyes. “Please, Mistress, command me.”

Kahlan pulled a knife from his belt, ignoring his request. With her other hand she unfastened the flanged battle mace from its hook. “Take off your pants.” She waited until he had pulled them off and stood once more before her. “Kneel.”

The coldness of her voice sent a shiver through Zedd as he watched the big man kneel before her.

Chase grabbed a fistful of his robes. “Zedd, we have to stop her! She’s going to kill him! We need information. Once he tells us what we need to know, then she can do whatever she wants, but not until we question him first!”

Zedd gave him a stern look. “As much as I agree with you, there is nothing we can do. If we interfere, she will kill us. If you take two steps toward her, she will kill you before you can take the third. A Confessor in the Blood Rage cannot be reasoned with. It’s like trying to reason with a thunderstorm it will only get you hit by lightning.”

Chase released the wizard’s robes with a frustrated huff and folded his arms in resignation. Kahlan turned the mace around, holding the handle down to Nass.

“Hold this for me.”

He took it and held it at his side. Kahlan kneeled down in front of him, close.

“Spread your legs,” she ordered in an icy voice. She reached down between his legs, gripping him in one hand. He flinched, grimaced. “Don’t move,” she warned. He became still. “How many of the little boys you’ve molested have you killed?”

“I don’t know, Mistress, I don’t keep count. I’ve done it for many years, since I was young. I don’t always kill them. Most live.”

“Make a good guess.”

He thought a moment. “More than eighty. Less than one hundred twenty.”

Zedd could see a glint off the knife as she put it under him. Chase unfolded his arms and stood up straighter, his jaw muscles tightening when he heard what Demmin Nass had done.

“I’m going to cut these off. When I do, I don’t want you to make a sound,” she whispered. “Not one sound. Don’t even flinch.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Look into my eyes. I wish to see it in your eyes.”

Her arm with the knife strained, and jerked up. The blade came up red.

Demmin’s knuckles around the mace were white.

The Mother Confessor rose to her feet in front of him. “Hold out your hand.”

Demmin held a shaking hand before her. She put the bloody sack in his palm.

“Eat them.”

Chase smiled as he watched. “Good for her,” he whispered to no one in particular. “A woman who knows the meaning of justice.” She stood before him, watching, until he finished. She tossed the knife aside. “Give me the mace.”

He handed it up. “Mistress, I am losing a lot of blood. I don’t know if I can remain upright.”

“It will displease me greatly if you don’t. Just hold on. It won’t be long.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Was what you told me about Richard, the Seeker, true?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Kahlan’s voice was deadly calm. “All of it?”

Demmin thought a moment, to be sure. “All that I told you, Mistress.”

“There is some you did not tell me?”

“Yes, Mistress. I did not tell you that Mord-Sith Denna also took him as her mate. I presume so that she might hurt him more.”

There was an eternity of silence. Kahlan stood motionless over Demmin. Zedd could hardly breathe with the pain, could hardly breath past the lump in his throat. His knees shook.

Kahlan’s voice came so soft, Zedd could hardly hear it. “And you are sure he is dead?”

“I did not see him killed, Mistress. But I am sure.”

“Why is that?”

“It looked to me as if Master Rahl was in the mood to kill him, and even if he didn’t, Denna would have. That is what Mord-Sith do. Mates of Mord-Sith do not live this long: I was surprised he was still alive when I left him. He looked to be in bad shape. I have not seen a man have the Agiel put to the base of his skull that many times and still be alive.

“He cried your name. The only reason Denna hadn’t allowed him to die before that day was because Master Rahl wanted to talk to him first. While I did not see it with my own eyes, Mistress, I am sure. Denna held him with the magic of his sword, there could be no escape for him. She had him for a lot longer than is usual, she hurt him more than is usual, she held him on the cusp between life and death longer than is usual. I have never seen a man last as long as he had. For some reason, Master Rahl wanted the Seeker to suffer a long time, which is why he chose Denna—none enjoy it more than her, none have her talent for prolonging the pain, the others don’t know how to keep their pets alive that long. If nothing else, he would be dead now from being the mate of a Mord-Sith. He could not have survived until now.”

Zedd sank to his knees, his heart breaking with agony. He cried with the pain. He felt as if his world had ended. He didn’t want to go on. He wanted to die. What had he done? How could he have allowed Richard to be pulled into this? Richard, of all people. Now he knew why Rahl hadn’t killed him when he had had the chance—he wanted Zedd to suffer first. That was the way of a Rahl.

Chase squatted down next to him and put his arm around him. “I’m sorry, Zedd,” he whispered. “Richard was my friend, too. I’m so sorry.”

“Look at me,” Kahlan said, the mace held high in both her hands.

Nass’s eyes came up to hers. She brought the mace down with all her strength. With a sickening sound, it buried in his forehead, stuck solid, tearing from her hands as he went down, limp and fluid, as if he had no bones.

Zedd forced himself to stop crying and come to his feet as she walked toward them, picking up a tin bowl from a pack along the way.

She handed the bowl to Chase. “Fill this half full with poison berries from a bloodthroat bush.”

Chase looked at the bowl, a little confused. “Now?”

“Yes.”

He noticed the warning in Zedd’s eyes, and stiffened. “All right.” He turned starting to leave, but turned back, taking his heavy black cloak off, putting it around her shoulders, covering her nakedness. “Kahlan . . .” He stared at her, finally unable to bring forth the words, and went off to his task.

Kahlan gazed fixedly, vacantly, at nothing. Zedd put his arm around her and sat her down on a bedroll. He retrieved what was left of her shirt, ripping it into strips, which he wet with water from a skin. As she sat without protest, he cleaned the blood off her, applied salve to some of her wounds and magic to others. She endured it without comment. When he finished, he put his fingers under her chin, lifting her eyes to his.