Terry Goodkind - Wizard's First Rule

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Millions of readers the world over have been held spellbound by this valiant tale vividly told.
Now, enter Terry Goodkind’s world, the world of
.
In the aftermath of the brutal murder of his father, a mysterious woman, Kahlan Amnell, appears in Richard Cypher’s forest sanctuary seeking help . . . and more. His world, his very beliefs, are shattered when ancient debts come due with thundering violence.
In their darkest hour, hunted relentlessly, tormented by treachery and loss, Kahlan calls upon Richard to reach beyond his sword—to invoke within himself something more noble. Neither knows that the rules of battle have just changed . . . or that their time has run out.
This is the beginning. One book. One Rule. Witness the birth of a legend.

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“Kahlan, what’s wrong?”

“I’m all right.” She laid a hand on his shoulder as he helped her to her feet. Her face was pale as she forced a small smile. “But I resign my post as Seeker.”

Richard spun to the wizard. “Zedd, what is this nonsense? Darken Rahl didn’t put that tree there. I’ve seen you water and care for those two trees. If you held a knife to my throat, I’d say you planted them there as a memorial to your wife and daughter.”

Zedd gave only a small smile. “Very good, Richard. Here is your sword. You are Seeker again. Now, my boy, you cut down the little tree, and then I will explain.”

Annoyed, Richard took the sword in both hands, feeling the anger surge through him. He gave a mighty swing at the remaining tree. The tip of the blade whistled as it sliced through the air. Just before the blade hit the tree, it simply stopped, as if the very air about it had become too thick to allow it to pass.

Richard stepped back in surprise. He looked at the sword, and then tried again. Same thing. The tree was untouched. He glared over at Zedd, who stood with his arms folded and a smirk on his face.

Richard slid the sword back into its scabbard. “All right, what’s going on?”

Zedd lifted his eyebrows with an innocent expression. “Did you see how easily Kahlan cut through the bigger tree?” Richard frowned. Zedd smiled. “It could just as well have been iron. The blade would have cut through it the same. But you are stronger than she, and you couldn’t even scratch the smaller tree.”

“Yes, Zedd, I noticed.”

Zedd’s brows wrinkled in mock bewilderment. “And why do you think that is?”

Richard’s irritation melted. This was the way Zedd often taught lessons, by making him come up with the answer on his own. “I would say it has something to do with intent. She thought the tree was evil, I didn’t.”

Zedd held up a bony finger. “Very good, my boy!”

Kahlan knitted her fingers together. “Zedd, I don’t understand. I destroyed the tree, but it wasn’t evil. It was innocent.”

“That, dear one, is the point of the demonstration. Reality isn’t relevant. Perception is everything. If you think it is the enemy, you can destroy it, whether true or not. The magic interprets only your perception. It won’t allow you to harm someone you think innocent, but it will destroy whoever you perceive to be the enemy, within limits. Only what you believe, and not the truth of your thoughts, is the determining factor.”

Richard was a little overwhelmed. “That leaves no room for error. But what if you aren’t sure?”

Zedd lifted an eyebrow. “You had better be sure, my boy, or you are liable to find yourself in a lot of trouble. The magic could read things in your mind you are not even aware of. It could go either way. You could kill a friend, or fail to kill a foe.”

Richard drummed his fingers on the hilt of the sword, thinking. He watched the setting sun offer small golden flashes through the trees to the west. Overhead, the snakelike cloud had taken on a reddish cast on one side, deepening into darker purple on the other. It didn’t really matter, he decided. He knew who he was after, and there was no doubt at all in his mind about him being the enemy. None whatsoever.

“There’s one more thing. One more important thing,” the wizard said. “When you use the sword against an enemy, there is a price to pay. Is that not true, dear one?” He looked to her. Kahlan nodded and lowered her eyes to the ground. “The more powerful the enemy, the higher the price. I am sorry it was necessary to do that to you, Kahlan, but it is the most important lesson Richard must learn.” She gave him a small smile, letting him know that she understood the need. He turned back to Richard.

“We both know that sometimes, killing is the only choice, that it has to be classified as the right thing to do. I know you do not need to be told that any time you kill, though, it is a terrible thing. You live with it always, and once done, it cannot be undone. You pay a price within yourself—it diminishes you for having done it.”

Richard nodded—it still made him uneasy that he had killed the man on Blunt Cliff. He wasn’t sorry about what he had done—he had had no time or other choice, but in his mind he still saw the man’s face as he went over the edge.

Zedd’s eyes became intense. “It is different when you kill with the Sword of Truth, because of the magic. The magic has done your bidding, and it extracts a price. There is no such thing as pure good or pure evil, least of all in people. In the best of us there are thoughts or deeds that are wicked, and in the worst of us, at least some virtue. An adversary is not one who does loathsome acts for their own sake. He always has a reason that to him is justification. My cat eats mice. Does that make him bad? I don’t think so, and the cat doesn’t think so, but I would bet the mice have a different opinion. Every murderer thinks the victim needed killing.

“I know you don’t want to believe this, Richard, but you must listen. Darken Rahl does the things he does, because he thinks them right, just as you do the things you do because you think them right. The two of you are more the same in that than you think. You want revenge on him for killing your father, and he wants revenge on me for killing his. In your eyes he is evil, but to his eyes, you are the one who is evil. It is all just perception. Whoever wins thinks he was in the right. The loser will always believe himself wronged. It is the same as with the magic of Orden: the power is simply there—one use wins over the other.”

“The same? Have you lost your mind? How could you think we are the same in any way! He craves power! He would chance destroying the world to get it! I don’t want power, I just wanted to be left alone! He murdered my father! He ripped his guts out! He’s trying to kill us all! How can you saw we are alike? You make it sound like he isn’t even dangerous!”

“Haven’t you been paying attention to what I have just been teaching you? I said you are the same in that you both think you are right. And that makes him more dangerous than you can imagine because in every other way you are different. Darken Rahl savors bleeding the life from people. He hungers for their pain. Your sense of right has bounds—his has none. His is twisted into an all-consuming lust to torture all opposition into submission, and he considers any who don’t rush to bow before him as opposition. His conscience was clear when he used his bare hands to calmly extract your father’s guts while he was still breathing. He found pleasure in the doing because his distorted sense of right gives him license. That is how he is very different from you. That is how dangerous he is.” He pointed back at Kahlan. “Weren’t you paying attention? Didn’t you see what she was able to do with the sword? And how did she do what you could not? Hmm?”

“Perception,” Richard said, in a much quieter voice. “She was able to do it because she thought she was right.”

Zedd thrust a finger in the air. “Aha! Perception is what makes the threat even more dangerous.” The wizard’s finger came down and jabbed Richard’s chest with each word. “Just . . . like . . . the sword.”

Richard hooked a thumb under the baldric and let out a deep breath. He felt as if he were standing in quicksand, but he had lived with Zedd too long to dismiss the things he said simply because they were hard to fathom. He longed for simplicity, though. “You mean that it’s not only what he does that makes him dangerous, but also what he feels justified in doing?”

Zedd shrugged. “Let me put it another way. Who would you be more afraid of: a two-hundred-pound man who wants to steal a loaf of bread from you, and knows he is doing wrong, or a one hundred-pound woman who believes, wrongly, but believes with all her heart, that you stole her baby?”

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