Terry Goodkind - Wizard's First Rule

At seeing what she had done, Kahlan yanked a knife from the belt of a guard. With a cry of anguish, she held it up in both hands to plunge it into herself.

Michael grabbed her from behind, twisted the knife from her hands, and held it to her throat. Richard launched himself in a fury at his brother but crashed into an invisible wall and was knocked back. Kahlan had expended all her energy in the Con Dar, and was too weak to fight back—she collapsed in tears. One of the guards tied a gag to her mouth, preventing her from even mumbling Richard’s name.

Richard, on his knees, fell against Darken Rahl, gripping his robes, pleading up to him. “Don’t hurt her! Please. Don’t hurt her.”

Darken Rahl put a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “So glad to see you have come back, Richard. I thought you might. I’m glad you’ve decided to help me. I admire your devotion to your friends.”

Zedd was bewildered. What help could Darken Rahl possibly need from Richard?

“Please,” Richard begged in tears, “don’t hurt her.”

“Well now, that’s entirely up to you.” He pulled Richard’s hands from his robes.

“Anything! I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt her.”

A smile spread on Darken Rahl’s lips. He licked the tips of his fingers. He ran his other hand through Richard’s hair. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Richard. I really am. It would have been a pleasure having you around as you were. Although you don’t realize it, you and I are very much alike. But I’m afraid you have fallen victim to the Wizard’s First Rule.”

“Don’t hurt Mistress Kahlan,” Richard cried. “Please.”

“If you do as I say, I will do as I promised, and she will be treated well. I may even turn you into something pleasant, something you would like to be, maybe a lapdog. I may even let you sleep in our bedchamber so you might see that I keep my word. Maybe I will even name my son in honor of you, for helping me. Would you like that? Richard Rahl. Sort of ironic, don’t you think?”

“Do whatever you want with me, but please don’t hurt Mistress Kahlan. Tell me what you want me to do, please.”

Darken Rahl patted Richard’s head. “Soon, my son, soon. Wait here.”

Darken Rahl left Richard on his knees, and glided around the circle of white sand to Zedd. The blue eyes locked on the old man as he came. Zedd felt hollow, empty.

Rahl stopped in front of him and licked his fingers, stroking them over his eyebrows.

“What is your name, Old One?”

Zedd stared back, his hopes destroyed. “Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander.” He held his chin up. “I am the one who killed your father.”

Darken Rahl nodded. “And do you know that your wizard’s fire also burned me? Do you know it almost killed me when I was but a child? And that I spent months in agony? And that to this day I carry the scars of what you did, both those on the outside, and others on the inside?”

“I’m sorry I hurt a child, regardless of who the child was. But in this case, I would call it premature punishment.”

Rahl’s face remained pleasant, the hint of a smile still on his lips. “We are going to have a long time together, you and I. I am going to teach you of the pain I endured, and more. You will know what it was like.”

Zedd gave a bitter look. “Nothing could match the pain you have already given me.”

Darken Rahl licked his fingertips as he turned away. “We will see.”

Zedd watched in hopeless frustration as Rahl returned to stand once more in front of Richard. “Richard!” Zedd screamed. “Don’t help him! Kahlan would rather die than have you help him!”

Richard looked blankly to the wizard before he gazed up at Darken Rahl. “I’ll do anything if you don’t hurt her.”

Darken Rahl motioned him to his feet. “You have my word, my son. If you do as I ask.” Richard nodded. “Recite the Book of Counted Shadows .” Zedd reeled in shock. Richard turned to Kahlan.

“What should I do, Mistress?”

Kahlan struggled against Michael, against the knife at her throat, screamed muffled words against the gag.

Rahl’s voice was calm, gentle. “Recite the Book of Counted Shadows , Richard, or I will have Michael start by cutting off her fingers one at a time. The longer you remain silent, the more he will cut her.”

Richard spun back to Rahl, panic in his eyes. “Verification of the truth of the words of the Book of Counted Shadows , if spoken by another, rather than read by the one who commands the boxes, can only be insured by the use of a Confessor . . .”

Zedd sank to the ground. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. As he listened to Richard reading out the book, he knew it was true—he recognized the unique syntax of a book of magic. Richard couldn’t be making it up. It was the Book of Counted Shadows . Zedd didn’t have the strength to wonder at how Richard had learned it.

The world as they knew it was ending. This was the first day of the rule of Rahl. All was lost. Darken Rahl had won. The world was his.

Zedd sat numbly, listening. Some of the words themselves were magic, and none but one with the gift could keep the words in his head—the magic would erase the whole of it at certain magic trigger words. Protection against unseen circumstances. Protection against just anyone getting hold of the magic within. That Richard could recite them was proof he was born to it. Born of and to the magic. As much as Richard hated the magic, he was magic, as the prophecies foretold.

Zedd mourned the things he had done. Mourned that he had tried to protect Richard from the forces that would have sought to use him, had they known what he was. Those born with the gift were always vulnerable when they were young. Darken Rahl was proof of that. Zedd had deliberately chosen not to teach Richard, as a way of protecting him from those forces learning of him. Zedd had always feared, and hoped, that Richard had the gift, but had hoped he would grow before it manifested itself, and then Zedd might have the time to teach him when he was strong enough, when he was old enough. And before it could kill him. It had been a futile effort. It had come to no good end. Zedd guessed that he had always known Richard had the gift, was someone special. Everyone who knew Richard knew he was someone special. Rare. The mark of magic.

Zedd wept as he recalled the time he had enjoyed with Richard. They had been good years. None had been better in his life. The years away from the magic. To have someone love him without fear, and only for himself. To be a friend.

Richard read out the book without hesitation or a single falter. Zedd marveled that he knew it so perfectly, and caught himself being proud, but then wished Richard weren’t so talented. Much of what he recited was about things already finished with, such as removing the covers from the boxes, but Darken Rahl didn’t stop him or hurry him over those sections for fear that he might miss something. He let Richard recite it at his own pace, and stood mute, listening carefully. Occasionally, Rahl had him repeat a section, to be sure he had it right, and stood absorbed in thought as Richard told of sun angles, of clouds, of wind patterns.

The afternoon wore on, Richard reciting, Rahl standing before him listening, Michael with a knife at Kahlan’s throat, the two guards holding her arms, Chase frozen in place, his hand halfway to his sword, and Zedd sitting on the ground, doomed, locked in his invisible prison. Zedd realized that the procedure for opening the boxes was going to take longer than he would have thought. It would take all night. There were enchantments to be drawn. That was the reason Darken Rahl needed so much sorcerer’s sand. The boxes had to be placed just so, the winter’s first sun touching them, dictating their position once they each cast a shadow.