Richard stalked toward her. 'Be gone! I've had enough of these specters! Leave me alone!' She didn't seem to hear him. That was impossible; she was easily close enough to hear him. He stepped closer, the air feeling abruptly thick and sparkling around him as he did so, until he seemed to step beyond it. 'Do you hear? Listen to me! I said be gone!'
Distant brown eyes focused on him. She held her arm out, her hand held up in forbidding. 'Leave me. I have found what I seek. Leave me to my peace, my bliss.'
As she turned away, Richard felt an apprehensive, tingling sensation all the way down to his toes. She wasn't trying to entice him, as the other visions had.
His hair tried to stand on end.
'Sister Verna?'
Could it be true? Could she be alive? Maybe he hadn't really killed her. Maybe it had all been a vision. 'Sister Verna, if it really is you, talk to me.'
She regarded him with a puzzled frown. 'Richard?'
'Of course Richard.'
'Go,' she whispered as her eyes turned up once more. 'I am with Him.'
'Him? Him who?'
'Please, Richard, you are tainted. Go away.'
'If you're a vision, then you go away.'
She regarded him with pleading. 'Please, Richard. You're disturbing Him. Don't ruin what I've found.'
'What have you found? Is it Jedidiah?'
'The Creator,' she said in a hallowed tone.
Richard peered skyward. 'I don't see anyone.'
She turned her back to him and strolled away. 'Leave me to Him.'
Richard didn't know if this was the real Sister Verna, or an illusion. Or maybe the dead Sister's spirit. Which was true? How could he tell?
He had promised the real Sister that she would make it through, that he would help her. He followed after her before she could disappear into the dark fog.
'What does the Creator look like, Sister Verna? Is he young? Old? Does he have long hair? Short? Does he have all his teeth?'
She turned in a rage. 'Leave me!'
The menace in her expression froze him in his tracks.
'No. Listen to me, Sister Verna. You're coming with me. I'm not leaving you trapped in this spell. That's all you see: an enchantment spell.'
He reasoned that if she was a specter, and he took her with him, she would vanish when they left the magic of the valley. If she was real, well then he would be saving her. She would be alive. Though he wished to be free of her, he wished more that she was alive, and that she wouldn't really do to him what she had done back in the tower. He didn't want that to be the true Sister Verna. He started toward her again.
Her hand came up, as if to push him, even though he was a good ten paces away. The force of the impact threw him to the ground. He rolled over, clutching his chest, clutching at the receding agony. It felt like what had been done to him in the tower - hard, burning pain - but it faded faster.
Wincing, he sat up, quickly gathering his wits as he gasped for breath. He looked up to check where the Sister was in case she was about to hurt him again. What he saw halted his breath only half out of his lungs.
As the Sister once again stared skyward, the dark fog around them swirled and coalesced into forms, the forms of wraiths: insubstantial figures, seething, simmering with death. Their faces churned with steaming, shifting shadows that conjoined into glowing red eyes set in inky faces - hot tongues of flame alive with hate, glowering out from eternal night.
Bumps rippled and tingled across the backs of his shoulders. When he had been in the spirit house and felt the screeling on the other side of the door, when he had sensed the man about to kill Chandalen, and when he had first encountered the Sisters, he had felt an overwhelming, inexplicable sense of danger. He felt that danger now.
There wasn't the slightest doubt in his mind that these things were part of the magic of this valley, and that that magic had at last found an intruder. Him.
'Verna!' he screamed.
She scowled down at him. 'I told you, Richard, I am to be addressed as Sister Verna.
'Is that what you do to your charges? Hurt them with your power?'
She looked startled. 'But I...'
'Is this your eternal Paradise? Quarreling with people? Hurting them?' He rushed to his knees, eyeing the drifting forms about them. 'Sister, we have to get out of here.'
'I wish to stay with Him. I have found my bliss.'
'This is your idea of Paradise? Giving pain? Answer me, Sister Verna! Is that what your Creator wishes of you? To hurt the people you are responsible for?'
She gaped at him, quickness suddenly coming to her movements as she rushed to him. 'Did I hurt you?' She gripped his shoulders. 'Oh, child, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.'
He came the rest of the way to his feet and shook her.
'Sister, we have to get out of here! I don't know how! Tell me how to get out of here before it's too late!'
'But... I wish to stay.'
'Look around, Sister Verna! What do you see?'
She jerked her head woodenly about, from one dark form to another, then to him. 'Richard...'
Richard angrily pointed skyward. 'Look, Sister! That's not the Creator! It's the Keeper.'
She peered where he directed. With a gasp, her fingers flew to her mouth.
The red glow in the eyes of one of the dark, shifting forms intensified into burning embers. The sense of danger flamed through Richard's very soul. The sword was out in a blink. The vaporous wraith solidified into solid bone and muscle, claws and fangs, into a frightening beast covered with a dark, cracked, leathery hide dappled with hideous, suppurating sores. It descended upon him in a terrifying rush.
With the sword gripped in both hands, Richard screamed with unleashed fury, driving the sword through the beast's chest as it rushed at him. Soft flesh and hard bone hissed at contact with the blade. The monster slid from the sword and hit the ground like a bucket of slop, its hide not entirely able to contain its contents. A drop of blood splattered on Richard's arm, burning through his shirt and into his flesh. From the inside, the beast boiled and frothed. Worms wriggled from the abscessed sores.
Sister Verna stared wide-eyed at the bubbling, smoking mass. He grabbed her curly hair in his fist and twisted her head to look at the forms that were closing in. 'Is this your idea of Paradise? Look! Look at them!'
He dragged her backward with him as the dark, watery blood running from the beast ignited, sending acrid, oily black smoke curling from the flames. Richard halted when he remembered what she had told him before, about backing into worse danger. He smelled burning flesh and, realizing it was his own, spat on the painful, smoking spot of the beast's blood on his arm.
He took in a quick sweep of the area. There were more of the forms behind. Another of them solidified into a beast, this time with cloven hooves and a broad snout. Razor-sharp tusks sprouted, growing into long, curved weapons.
Snorting, it charged them. Richard drove his sword downward through the thing's skull as it tried to gore him. With a squeal, the beast collapsed heavily. By the time the bulky body hit the ground, it had mutated to a writhing mass of snakes. They tumbled and rolled as they hit, the tangled pile of them wriggling apart. Hundreds of hooded red eyes glowered up at him. Red tongues flicked the air as the yellow-and-black-banded bodies slithered toward the two of them.
Richard didn't think they were mere incorporeal illusions; the place on his arm where the drop of blood had splattered burned painfully. The snakes hissed. Some coiled to strike, revealing dripping fangs.
'Richard, we have to get out of here. Come, child.'
They turned and ran, the floating, red-eyed forms following. Richard felt the thick air as he went through. The air around him sparkled.
Sister Verna cried out. He turned to see her on the ground before the snakes. She sprang to her feet and tried again, but could not pass through. To her, the air was solid.
She stood silently a moment, going calm. She clasped her hands. 'Richard, I am trapped in this spell. I cannot leave it. It is me the spell captured, and recognizes. It is too late for me. Save yourself. Run. Without me, you may have a chance. Hurry. Go.'
There seemed to be a lot more snakes than Richard had seen at first. The ground was alive with them. They were surrounding him. He struck as they did, and beheaded three that came too close.
The headless bodies writhed and then disassembled into hundreds of huge, glossy, black-and-brown-banded bugs. They skittered in every direction. Some ran up his pant leg. He frantically shook his legs trying to get them out. Each bite felt like a hot coal on his flesh. He stomped his feet to get them off. From the ground where he had killed the snakes, more of the bugs poured out, their hard-shelled bodies tumbling over each other, rustling like the sound of dry leaves blowing across parched earth.
Dancing among the clicking bugs and between the squirming snakes, he stepped back into the sparkling air. 'Without you I don't have a chance. You're coming with me.'
He enfolded her in his arms and threw himself sword-first at the sparkling barrier. The wall seemed hard at first, but then the air about them exploded in glittering flashes. Lines of light, like crazed glass, shot in every direction. The air erupted in a burst of sparkles and a crack of thunder. The darting sparkles slowed and then drifted to earth, like fat flakes of snow, their light extinguishing when they touched the ground. The two of them moved past the vanished barrier, free of the spell.
The dark forms followed. The snakes followed. Bugs popped and crunched under his boots.
Richard's grip tightened on the sword. 'Let's get out of here.'
She took two strides and then froze.
'What's wrong?'
'I can't feel the way,' she whispered. 'Richard, I can't feel the gaps.' She turned to him. 'Do you feel anything?' He shook his head. Try! Richard, try to feel where there is less danger.'
He stomped his feet to knock the bugs off his legs and swiped off one that had made it to his face. Snakes were still pouring from the ground where the monster had fallen. They boiled up like water from a spring. 'I can't. I feel danger all about. It's the same everywhere. Which way!'
She clutched her skirt in a fist. 'I don't know.'
Richard heard a scream. The familiar voice wrenched his attention before he could stop himself. Kahlan was standing where the snakes poured from the ground. They slithered up and over her as if she were a rock in a living stream of snakes. She held her arms out to him.
'Richard! Help me! You said you would love me always! Please, Richard! Don't leave me to this! Help me!'
His own voice came in a shaky whisper. 'Sister Verna, what do you see?'
'Jedidiah,' she answered quietly. There are snakes all over him. He wants my help. May the Creator have mercy on us.'
'Why should he start now?'
'Do not speak blasphemy.'
He forced himself to turn from the vision. Gripping the Sister's arm, he led her away. They sidestepped as they watched the forms drifting around them. They avoided the snakes, but it was impossible not to step on the huge bugs.
He knew that moving anywhere without knowing where to go could be more dangerous than standing still, now that the magic had found them. Even so, he couldn't make his feet stop. Finally they reached ground that was clear of snakes and bugs, for the moment.
'We're running out of time. Do you feel anything yet? Do you feel the way yet?'
'Nothing. I'm sorry, Richard. I have failed in my duty, failed the Creator. I've killed us both.'
'Not yet.'
Richard whistled for the horses. They came at a trot, ignored by the dark forms. Bonnie nuzzled her head against him, forcing him back a step. Sister Verna took up the lead line and started leading Jessup away.
'No!' Richard leapt up onto Bonnie. He swatted two clicking bugs from his pant leg. 'Mount up. Hurry.'
Sister Verna stared at him. 'Richard, we can't ride the horses. I told you that. They are just dumb animals. They will be spooked and take us into a storm of spells. We can't control them without bits!'
'Sister, you told me you read The Adventures of Bonnie Day. Do you remember when the three heroes were taking the injured people to safety, and they came to the poison river that couldn't be crossed? What did they say? They said that the people just had to have faith that it could be done. Bonnie, Geraldine, and Jessup led them across the river. Have faith, Sister. Mount up. Hurry.'
'You want me to do something I know will get us killed because of some fool thing you read in a book! We must walk!'
Bonnie tossed her head and danced about. Richard took up the slack in the reins to keep her in place. 'You don't know the way. I don't know the way. If we stay we die.'
Then what good is riding going to do!' She had to give a sharp tug to keep Jessup still. He was roused by Bonnie's excitement.
'Sister, what have the horses been doing all day, whenever we let them?'
'Browsing on grass that isn't there. They're having visions!'
'Are they? Do you know that? What if what we're seeing is the illusion? Maybe they see what's really here. Now let's go!'
The dark forms were closer, their eyes glowing a brighter red. Sister Verna glanced at them, and then pulled herself up onto the saddle. 'But -'
'Have a little faith, Sister.' Bonnie pranced sideways, eager to be off. 'I promised you I would save you, and I intend to. I'll lead. Don't hold back.'
Richard gave his horse a sharp kick in the ribs with his heels while shouting the command. She leapt out into a dead run. The other two horses sprang to follow. He leaned forward over Bonnie's withers as she stretched into the gallop. He let her have free rein, without giving her any hint of direction. He focused on her ears, instead of what lay ahead, not wanting to influence her.
'Richard!' Sister Verna screamed from behind. 'In the name of the Creator, watch where you're going! Don't you see what you're leading that horse into!'
'I'm not leading her,' he called out over the sound of thundering hooves. 'She is picking her own course.'
The Sister galloped up beside him, her eyebrows knit together in fury. 'Are you insane? Look at where you're headed!'
Richard snatched a glance. They were rushing headlong for the edge of a cliff.
'Close your eyes, Sister.'
'Have you lost your...'
'Close your eyes! It's a vision. A vision of a fear we all have in common - falling. Just like we both saw snakes.'
'The snakes were real! If you're wrong we will be killed!'
'Close your eyes. If it's really there, the horses won't run over the edge of a cliff.' He hoped he was right about that.
'Unless it's really there, and the magic shows them a vision of flat ground so as to kill us!'
'If we stay, we die! We have no choice!'
He heard a growled curse from her as she hauled in on her left rein, trying to turn her horse, but Jessup stayed with Bonnie. Bonnie was leading; Jessup and Geraldine wouldn't leave her.
'I told you destroying those bits was foolish! We can't control them! They're running away with us!'
'I told you I would save you. Destroying those bits is what will save you. My eyes are closed. If you want to live, close yours!'
Sister Verna was silent as the three horses thundered on. Richard's eyes were squeezed shut. When he judged they should be at the brink, he held his breath. He prayed that the good spirits would be with him this time.
His legs tingled in anticipation of plummeting over a cliff. He tried not to think of what it would be like on the way down. Shared fear, that's all it was. He realized he was holding Bonnie's mane in a death grip. He relaxed his fingers but kept his eyes closed.
The plunge didn't come.
The three horses galloped on. He did nothing to slow them, but let them run as they would. They were in a frisky mood from grazing all day, and he could tell they were enjoying the run. They were running for the sheer joy of it.
After a time, Richard realized that the sound of their hooves was changing. It wasn't as sharp; it had grown softer.
'Richard! We're out of the valley!'
He looked back over his shoulder to see the wisp of dark storm clouds boiling at the edge of the horizon. The golden sun hung low in the sky over the grassy, undulating ground beneath them. Their horses slowed to a canter.
'Are you sure? Are you sure we're away from it?'
She nodded. 'This is the Old World. I know this place.'
'But it could still be an illusion, to give us confidence, and trap us before we're clear.'
'Must you always question what I tell you? I can feel it with my Han. This is no illusion. We are safely out of the valley and away from its magic. It cannot reach us now.'
Richard wondered briefly if she could still be an illusion. But he, too, sensed that the danger was no longer there. He leaned forward and gave Bonnie's warm neck a big hug.
The immense hills they were entering were barren of trees, covered with clumps of grass and wildflowers, the low places sprinkled throughout with sandy-colored rocks. The sun shined warmly, but it no longer scorched the land. Richard laughed into the wind at his face.
He grinned at Sister Verna, but she wasn't smiling. Her brow was creased with a scowl as she scanned the sweep of hills before them.
'Wipe that grin off your face,' she snapped.
'I'm just happy we made it. I'm happy you're alive, Sister.'
'If you had any idea how angry I am with you right now, Richard, you would not be quite so pleased I am still with you. Take this advice seriously: you would be doing yourself a great favor, right now, if you kept that tongue of yours still.'
He could only shake his head.
CHAPTER 33
'You must cut off my arm.'
Zedd drew the sleeve of the sky blue, satin robe down her arm, covering the wound that wouldn't heal, and the faint green glow of her flesh.
'I'm not cutting off your arm, Adie. How many times do I have to tell you?'
He set the cut-glass lamp back on a side table inlaid with silver worked in floral patterns, next to the tray of brown bread and half-eaten lamb stew, and strolled across the carpets to draw the heavy, embroidered curtains back a bit with a thin finger. He peered, without seeing, out the frost-laced window, at the dark street. The glow from the fire in the outer room cast a warm, dim light through the open double doors. The rooms were fairly quiet, considering the size of the crowd down in the dining room.
The Ram's Horn did a bustling business despite it being the dead of winter, or perhaps because of it. The open road was no place to sleep in this cold and snow, and trade couldn't stop simply because of the season. Merchants, drivers, and travelers of every sort filled this inn, as well as all the others in Penverro.
He and Adie had been lucky to find lodging. Or perhaps the innkeeper had been the lucky one, lucky that someone would come along who was willing to pay the outrageous price he asked for his finest rooms.
But the price of the rooms did not concern Zedd; producing the required price in gold was no problem for a wizard of the First Order. He had real problems, though. The gash where the skrin had cut Adie with its claw wasn't healing. In fact, it was getting worse. And it would do no good trying to use more magic to cure the wound; magic was the trouble.
'Listen to me, old man.' Adie levered herself up in the bed, onto one elbow. 'It be the only way to stop it. You have tried, and I do not fault your efforts. But if we don't stop it, I will die. What be one arm, compared to my life? If you do not have the courage, then give me a knife. I can do the work myself.'
He scowled over his shoulder. 'Of that, dear lady, I have no doubt. But it would do no good, I'm afraid.'
'What do you mean?' she asked in a low rasp.
He plucked a cold chunk of lamb from the gold-rimmed bowl and popped it in his mouth before he hiked his lavish robes up a bit and sat on the edge of the bed. He took up her good hand as he chewed. It seemed thin and frail, but he knew her to be more the stuff of iron.
'Adie, do you know anyone with knowledge of this sort of taint?'
She ignored his question. 'Why do you say it will do no good?'
Zedd patted her hand. 'Answer the question. Do you know anyone who would know anything about this?'
'I would have to think on it some, but I do not think there be anyone still alive who would have such knowledge. You be a wizard, who would know better than you? Wizards be healers.' She took back her hand. 'And what do you mean cutting off the arm would do no good?' She was silent a moment, and then her eyes widened. 'You mean it be too late...?'
Zedd stood and turned away from her. He put a hand on his bony hip as he considered the options. There was not much to consider.
'Think on it, Adie, and do so with haste. This is beyond my knowledge, and it is serious.'
He heard the bed squeak as Adie sank back down onto the pillows. She released a tired sigh.
'Then I be dead. At least my spirit will be with my Pell, at last. You must go on now. Do not waste any more time. I have already slowed you too much, been in this bed too many days. You must get to Aydindril. Please, Zedd, don't let me be responsible for what will happen if you don't get to Aydindril. Go help Richard, and leave me to my end.'
Adie, please do as I ask, and think. Who would be able to help us?'
Too late, he realized he had just made a mistake. He winced and waited for what he knew what was coming.
He heard the bedsprings squeak again. 'Us?'
'I simply mean...'
She snatched the sleeve of his fine robes and spun him around. Her brow was set in a serious scowl. She gave a firm tug, forcing him to sit on the bed next to her. Her eyes seemed more pink than white in the lamplight, yet he could see the dim haze of green in them.
'Us?' she repeated. This time it came out in a growling rasp. And you complain about the small secrets a sorceress would choose to keep to herself! Out with it, or I will make you sorry you dragged me along with you.'
Zedd gave a tired sigh. It was just as well; he couldn't keep it from her much longer anyway. He drew the dark sleeve of his robe up his arm.
The flesh of his upper arm, in the same place where her arm had been cut, was blotched with cloudy black circles about the size of gold coins, and had the same faint green glow as her arm. She stared at it without reaction.
'Wizards use the magic of empathy to cure people. We take the pain and the essence of the discordance, the sickness or injury, into ourselves. We have passed the test of pain, so in this, as in other things, we are able to endure what we take from another. We use the gift to sustain us, and to give strength to the person, allowing the magic to cure what is out of order. The harmony within us corrects the disharmony. Sickness and injury is an aberration, and the magic restores the flows of power in a person to what it is intended to be.' He stroked her hand. 'Within limits, of course. We are not the hand of Creation. But from it, we have the gift to use when it is appropriate.'
'But... why be your arm like mine?'
'The actual transfer of the sickness or injury is blocked. Only the pain and disharmony of it is taken on, so we may pass strength, healing, and wellness to the one we are helping.' He took hold of the silver brocade at the cuff and drew the sleeve back down his arm. 'Somehow, the taint of the skrin passed through that barrier.'
Concern creased her features. 'Then we must both lose our arms.'
Zedd worked his tongue to wet it. 'No. I'm afraid that wouldn't help. When I try to cure someone, I can sense where the injury or sickness, the disharmony, lies.' He stood again, turning his back to her. Though the wound is on your arm, the taint of the skrin's magic is evident throughout your body.' His voice dropped to a whisper. 'It is also throughout me, now.'
Zedd could hear the muffled laughter from down in the dining room. Merry music seemed to ooze up through the elegant, richly colored carpets. A bard was singing a bawdy tale about a princess masquerading as a serving wench. Her father and king had pledged her to a prince she loathed. After having exposed the suitor as a scoundrel and greedy opportunist, she found that, despite having to endure her bottom being pinched, she preferred the occupation of serving wench to that of princess, and went on to live a life of singing and dancing. The crowd roared their approval, thumping their mugs in time with the tune.
Adie's voice came softly from behind him. 'We be in a great deal of trouble, old man.'
He nodded absently. 'Indeed.'
'I be sorry, Zedd. Forgive me for what I have brought upon us.'
He dismissed her regrets with a wave of his hand. 'What's done is done. It's not your fault, dear lady. If anything, it's mine, for not thinking before I used magic on this; the price of using your heart before using your head.' The price, too, for violating the Wizard's Second Rule, he thought, but did not voice it.
The heavy folds of his robes swirled around him as he turned back to face her. 'Adie, think. There must be someone who would know about this taint, someone who knows about the skrin. Is there anyone you visited when searching knowledge of the underworld who would know something? Even if it's just a little, it might give me the clue I need to rid us of this.'
Her weight settled deeper into the pillows as she frowned in thought. Finally, her head rolled from side to side.
'When I visited the women with the gift, I be young. They be old, at least older than I. They would all be dead by now.'
Zedd stepped closer. 'Did any have daughters? Daughters with the gift?'
Adie's eyes came to his, her eyebrows lifted, and a smile grew on her finely wrinkled face. 'Yes! One who taught me some of the most important things about the skrin had daughters.' She propped herself up on her good elbow. 'Three daughters.' Her grin grew. They all had the gift. They be little at the time, but they had the gift. They would not be nearly as old as I. If their mother lived long enough, she would have taught them what she knew. That be the way of a sorceress.'
Despite the dull ache of a foreign magic in his bones, Zedd's step was lively with excitement. Then we must go to them! Where are they?'
Adie winced as she sank back down on the pillows. She drew the blanket up to her chest. 'Nicobarese. They be in a remote part of Nicobarese.'
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