Terry Goodkind - Severed Souls

After getting Richard laid over the back of the mare, the men helped the commander quickly lash him down with ropes. They didn’t pause to ask questions. The men of the First File stayed focused and did their job regardless of what was going on.

Commander Fister seized one of the men, Sergeant Remkin, by the shoulder. “How many men do we have left?”

“Before the battle we had close to a hundred. I know that I’ve seen some go down, though I don’t know how many we’ve lost, but there has to be something less than that by now.”

“All right. Get three dozen men together as fast as you can.” The commander pointed with his sword. “We’re going to take Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor around the side of the cliff over there and up the gorge. Divide the men. You take half up on the slope to the far side. Have them spread out and hide on the hillside.” He gestured to the other man. “Jenkins, you take the other half onto the left slope and do the same—spread out and hide.”

The sergeant glanced back in the darkness to appraise the barely visible pass. “Consider it done, Commander. Then what?”

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