Terry Goodkind - Debt of Bones

Zedd halted and put his face close to Thomas. He lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Really, Thomas? Do you think? Igniting a light spell that will rip the fabric of the world of life might cause an instability in the elements of the web field?”

Thomas charged after as Zedd stormed off. “Zorander! You won’t be able to control it! If you were able to invoke it—and I’m not saying I believe you can—you would breach the Grace. The invocation uses heat. The breach feeds it. You won’t be able to control the cascade. No one can do such a thing!”

“I can do it,” the First Wizard muttered.

Thomas shook the fists of papers in a fury. “Zorander, your arrogance will be the end of us all! Once parted, the veil will be rent and all life will be consumed. I demand to see the book in which you found this spell. I demand to see it myself. The whole thing, not just parts of it!”

The First Wizard paused and lifted a finger. “Thomas, if you were meant to see the book, then you would be First Wizard and have access to the First Wizard’s private enclave. But you are not, and you don’t.”

Thomas’s face glowed scarlet above his white beard. “This is a foolhardy act of desperation!”

Wizard Zorander flicked the finger. The papers flew from the old wizard’s hand and swirled up into a whirlwind, there to ignite, flaring into ashes that lifted away on the wind.

“Sometimes, Thomas, all that is left to you is an act of desperation. I am First Wizard, and I will do as I must. That is the end of it. I will hear no more.” He turned and snatched the sleeve of an officer. “Alert the lancers. Gather all the cavalry available. We ride for Pendisan Reach at once.”

The man thumped a quick salute to his chest before dashing off. Another officer, older and looking to be of much higher rank, cleared his throat.

“Wizard Zorander, may I know of your plan?”

“It is Anargo,” the First Wizard said, “who is the right hand of Panis Rahl, and in conjunction with Rahl conjures death to stalk us. Quite simply put, I intend to send death back at them.”

“By leading the lancers into Pendisan Reach?”

“Yes. Anargo holds at Coney Crossing. We have General Brainard driving north towards Pendisan Reach, General Sanderson sweeping south to join with him, and Mardale charging up from the southwest. We will go in there with the lancers and whoever of the rest of them is able to join with us.”

“Anargo is no fool. We don’t know how many other wizards and gifted he has with him, but we know what they’re capable of. They’ve bled us time and time again. At last we have dealt them a blow.” The officer chose his words carefully. “Why do you think they wait? Why wouldn’t they simply slip back into D’Hara?”

Zedd rested a hand on the crenellated wall and gazed out on the dawn, out on the city below.

“Anargo relishes the game. He performs it with high drama; he wants us to think them wounded. Pendisan Reach is the only terrain in all those mountains that an army can get through with any speed. Coney Crossing provides a wide field for battle, but not wide enough to let us manoeuvre easily, or flank them. He is trying to bait us in.”

The officer didn’t seem surprised. “But why?”

Zedd looked back over his shoulder at the officer. “Obviously, he believes that in such terrain he can defeat us. I believe otherwise. He knows that we can’t allow the menace to remain there, and he knows our plans. He thinks to draw me in, kill me, and end the threat I alone hold over them.”

“So . . .” the officer reasoned aloud, “you are saying that for Anargo, it is worth the risk.”

Zedd stared out once more at the city below the Wizard’s Keep. “If Anargo is right, he could win it all at Coney Crossing. When he has finished me, he will turn his gifted loose, slaughter the bulk of our forces all in one place, and then, virtually unopposed, cut out the heart of the Midlands: Aydindril.

“Anargo plans that before the snow flies, he will have killed me, annihilated our joint forces, have the people of the Midlands in chains, and be able to hand the whip to Panis Rahl.”

The officer stared, dumbfounded. “And you plan to do as Anargo is hoping and go in there to face him?”

Zedd shrugged. “What choice have I?”

“And do you at least know how Anargo plans to kill you, so that we might take precautions? Take countermeasures?”

“I’m afraid not.” Vexed, he waved his hand, dismissing the matter. He turned to Abby. “The lancers have swift horses. We will ride hard. We will be to your home soon—we will be there in time—and then we’ll see to our business.”

Abby only nodded. She couldn’t put into words the relief of her petition granted, nor could she express the shame she felt to have her prayer answered. But most of all, she couldn’t utter a word of her horror at what she was doing, for she knew the D’Harans’ plan.

Flies swarmed around dried scraps of viscera, all that was left of Abby’s prized bearded pigs. Apparently, even the breeding stock, which Abby’s parents had given her as a wedding gift, had been slaughtered and taken.

Abby’s parents, too, had chosen Abby’s husband. Abby had never met him before: he came from the town of Lynford where her mother and father bought the pigs. Abby had been beside herself with anxiety over who her parents would choose for her husband. She had hoped for a man who would be of good cheer—a man to bring a smile to the difficulties of life.

When she first saw Philip, she thought he must be the most serious man in all the world. His young face looked to her as if it had never once smiled. That first night after meeting him, she had cried herself to sleep over thoughts of sharing her life with so solemn a man. She thought her life caught up on the sharp tines of grim fate.

Abby came to find that Philip was a hardworking man who looked out at life through a great grin. That first day she had seen him, she only later learned, he had been putting on his most sober face so that his new family would not think him a slacker unworthy of their daughter. In a short time, Abby had come to know that Philip was a man upon whom she could depend. By the time Jana had been born, she had come to love him.

Now Philip, and so many others, depended upon her.

Abby brushed her hands clean after putting her mother’s bones to rest once more. The fences Jana had watched Philip so often mend, she saw, were all broken down. Coming back around the house, she noticed that barn doors were missing. Anything an animal or human could eat was gone. Abby could not recall having ever seen her home looking so barren.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. It didn’t matter, if only Jana would be returned to her. Fences could be mended. Pigs could be replaced, somehow, someday. Jana could never be replaced.

“Abby,” Zedd asked as he peered around at the ruins of her home, “how is it that you weren’t taken, when your husband and daughter and everyone else were?”

Abby stepped through the broken doorway, thinking that her home had never looked so small. Before she had gone to Aydindril, to the Wizard’s Keep, her home had seemed as big as anything she could imagine. Here, Philip had laughed and filled the simple room with his comfort and conversation. With charcoal he had drawn animals on the stone hearth for Jana.

Abby pointed. “Under that door is the root cellar. That’s where I was when I heard the things I told you about.”

Zedd ran the toe of his boot across the knothole used as a finger-hold to lift the hatch. “They were taking your husband, and your daughter, and you stayed down there? While your daughter was screaming for you, you didn’t run up to help her?”

Abby summoned her voice. “I knew that if I came up, they would have me, too. I knew that the only chance my family had was if I waited and then went for help. My mother always told me that even a sorceress was no more than a fool if she acted like one. She always told me to think things through, first.”