Terry Goodkind: Wizard's First Rule

Coming over the top of a small rise, he looked anew for the fork, but didn’t see it and kept running. Now his breath came in ragged gasps. He knew that if he didn’t reach the split before she did, they would be trapped, and their only options would be to outrun the men, or to fight. He was too winded for either. That thought drove him on harder. Sweat ran down his back, making his shirt stick to his skin. The coolness of the morning had turned to choking heat, though he knew it was only his exertion that made it seem that way. The forest passed in a blur to each side as he ran.

Just before a sharp bend to the right, he came at last to the cutoff, almost missing it. He made a quick search for tracks to—if she had been there and taken the small path. There were none. Relief washed over him. He dropped to his knees and sat back on his heels in exhaustion, trying to catch his breath. The first part had worked. He had beaten her here. Now he had to make her believe him before it was too late.

Holding his right hand over a painful stitch in his side and still trying to catch his breath, he started to worry that he was going to look silly. What if it was just a girl and her brothers playing a game? He would be the fool. Everyone but him would have a good laugh.

He looked down at the bite on the back of his hand. It was red and throbbed painfully. He remembered the thing in the sky. He thought about the way she had been walking, with a sense of purpose, not like a child at play. It was a woman, not a girl. He remembered the cold fear he had felt when he saw the four men. Four men warily shadowing a woman: the third strange thing to happen this morning. The third child of trouble. No—he shook his head—this was no game, he knew what he had seen. It was no game. They were stalking her.

Richard came partway to his feet. Waves of heat rolled from his body. Bent over at the waist with his hands braced on his knees, he took a few deep breaths before straightening to his full height.

His eyes fell on the young woman as she came around the bend in front of him. His breath caught for an instant. Her brown hair was full, lush, and long, complementing the contours of her body. She was tall, almost as tall as he, and about the same age. The dress she wore was like none he had ever seen: almost white, cut square at the neck, interrupted only by a small, tan leather waist pouch. The weave of the fabric was fine and smooth, almost glistening, and bore none of the lace or frills he was used to seeing, no prints or colors to distract from the way it caressed her form. The dress was elegant in its simplicity. She halted, and long graceful folds regally trailing her gathered about her legs.

Richard approached and stopped three strides away so as not to appear a threat. She stood straight and still, her arms at her side. Her eyebrows had the graceful arch of a raptor’s wings in flight. Her green eyes came unafraid to his. The connection was so intense that it threatened to drain his sense of self. He felt that he had always known her, that she had always been a part of him, that her needs were his needs. She held him with her gaze as surely as a grip of iron would, searching his eyes as if searching his soul, seeking an answer to something. I am here to help you, he said in his mind. He meant it more than any thought he had ever had.

The intensity of her gaze relaxed, loosening its hold on him. In her eyes he saw something that attracted him more than anything else. Intelligence. He saw it flaring there, burning in her, and through it all he felt an overriding sense of her integrity. Richard felt safe.

A warning flashed in his mind, making him remember why he was there, that time was dear.

“I was up there”—he pointed toward the hill he had been on—“and I saw you.” She looked where he pointed. He looked, too, and realized he was pointing to a tangle of tree limbs. They couldn’t see the hill, because the trees blocked the view. He dropped his arm dumbly, trying to ignore the miscue. Her eyes returned to his, waiting.

Richard started over, keeping his voice low. “I was up there on a hill, above the lake. I saw you walking on the path by the shore. There are some men following you.”

She betrayed no emotion, but continued to hold his gaze. “How many?”

He thought her question strange, but answered it. “Four.”

The color drained from her face.

She turned her head, surveying the woods behind her, scanning the shadows briefly, then looked back to him once more, her green eyes searching his.

“Do you choose to help me?” Except for her color, her exquisite features gave no hint as to her emotions.

Before his mind could form a thought, he heard himself say, “Yes.”

Her countenance softened. “What would you have us do?”

“There’s a small trail that turns off here. If we take it, and they stay on this one, we can be away.”

“And if they don’t? If they follow our trail?”

“I’ll hide our tracks.” He was shaking his head, trying to reassure her. “They won’t follow. Look, there’s no time . . .”

“If they do?” she cut him off. “Then what is your plan?”

He studied her face a moment. “Are they very dangerous?”

She stiffened. “Very.”

The way she spoke the word made him have to force himself to breathe again. For an instant, he saw a look of blind terror pass across her eyes.

Richard ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, the small trail is narrow and sheer. They won’t be able to surround us.”

“Do you have a weapon?”

He answered by shaking his head no, too angry with himself for forgetting his knife to voice it out loud.

She nodded. “Let’s be quick then.”

They didn’t talk once the decision had been made, not wanting to give away their location. Richard hurriedly concealed their tracks and motioned her to go first so he would be between her and the men. She didn’t hesitate. The folds of her dress flowed behind as she moved quickly at his direction. The lush, young evergreens of the Ven pressed tight at their sides, making the path a narrow, dark, green, walled route cut through the brush and branches. They could see nothing around them. Richard checked behind as they went, though he couldn’t see far. At least what he could see was clear. She went swiftly without any encouragement from him.

After a time, the ground started rising and becoming rockier, and the trees thinned, offering a more open view. The trail twisted along deeply shaded cuts in the terrain and across leafstrewn ravines. Dry leaves scattered at their passing. Pines and spruce gave way to hardwood trees, mostly white birch, and as the limbs swayed overhead, little patches of sunlight danced on the forest floor. The birches’ white trunks with black spots made it look as if hundreds of eyes were watching the two pass. Other than the raucous racket of some ravens, it was a very quiet, peaceful place.

At the base of a granite wall that the path followed, he motioned to her, putting a finger over his lips, letting her know they had to step carefully to avoid making sounds that would echo, to hide. He saw nothing, and started to feel better. They weren’t being followed—the men were nowhere to be seen, and were probably miles down Hawkers Trail by now. The farther from the boundary and the closer to town they got, the better he felt. His plan had worked.

Seeing no sign that they were being followed, Richard wished they could stop for a rest, as his hand was throbbing, but she gave no sign that she needed or wanted a break. She kept pushing on, as if the men were right on their heels. Richard remembered the look on her face when he had asked if they were dangerous, and quickly rejected any thought of stopping.

As morning wore on, the day became warm for this late in the year. The sky was a bright, clear blue, with only a few white, wispy clouds drifting by. One of the clouds had taken on the undulating form of a snake, with its head down and tail up. Because it was so unusual, Richard remembered seeing the same cloud earlier in the day—or was it yesterday? He would have to remember to mention it to Zedd the next time he saw him. Zedd was a cloud reader, and if Richard failed to report his sighting he would have to endure an hour-long lecture on the significance of clouds. Zedd was probably watching it this very moment, fretting over whether or not Richard was paying attention.