Stone of Tears (114 page)

It was Kahlan he was worried about. He had to help her.

A knock brought him out of his thoughts. He thought it might be Liliana come back, but when he opened the door, a distraught Perry pushed into the room.

“Richard! I need your help.” He pulled out a fistful of robes. “Look at this! They promoted me!”

Richard glanced down the length of the simple, brown robes. “Congratulations. That’s great, Perry.”

“It’s a disaster! Richard, I need your help!”

Richard frowned. “Why is it a disaster?”

Perry threw his arms in the air, as if it should be obvious to anyone. “Because I can’t go into the city! I’m restricted in these robes! I’m not allowed to go over the bridge!”

“Well, I’m sorry, Perry, but I don’t see how I can help you.”

Perry took a deep breath to calm himself. He looked up pleadingly. “There’s a woman in the city … I’ve been seeing her steady of late. Richard, I really like her. I’m supposed to meet her tonight. If I don’t show up, so I can explain, if I never show up again, she’ll think I don’t care about her.”

“Perry, I still don’t see what I can do about it.”

Perry grabbed him by his shirt. “They took all my clothes. Richard, you could lend me some of yours. Then no one would recognize me, and I could sneak into the city, and see her. Please Richard, lend me some of your clothes?”

Richard thought a moment. He didn’t care if he was violating some obscure rule of the Palace, it seemed insignificant compared to what he was doing, but he still worried for Perry.

“The guards all know me. They will see it’s you in my clothes and tell the Sisters. Then you’ll be in for trouble.”

Perry glanced away, frantically thinking. “Night. I’ll wait until night, and then I’ll go. They won’t see so clearly who it really is at nigh. Please, Richard? Please?”

Richard sighed. “It’s fine by me, Perry, if you want to risk it. Just don’t get yourself caught. I’d hate to know I helped get you in trouble.” He gestured to the bedroom, where the wardrobe was. “Come on. Take whatever you like. You aren’t quite my size, but I guess you’re close enough.”

Perry added a grin to his sidelong look. “The red coat? I can have the red coat? She’d like me in that.”

“Sure.” Richard led a giddy Perry toward the bedroom. “If that is what you would like, take it. I’m glad someone will enjoy wearing the red coat.”

Perry sorted through the wardrobe, looking for a pair of pants and a shirt he thought would look dashing.

“I saw Sister liliana leaving your room, just before I came.” He pulled out a ruffled, white shirt. “She one of your teachers?”

“Yes. I like her. She’s the nicest of the lot.”

Perry held up the shirt in front of himself. “How does this look on me?”

“Better than on me. You know Liliana?”

“Not really. She just always gave me the shivers. Those strange eyes of hers.”

Richard thought about Liliana’s pale, pale blue eyes shot through with violet flecks. He shrugged. “I thought they were strange, too, at first. But she’s so bubbly and friendly that I don’t even notice them anymore. She has such a warm smile that its hard to see anything else.”

Richard sat quietly with his legs folded and the sword across his knees. He wore his mriswith cape so that Pasha and Sister Verna wouldn’t know where he was. He didn’t want either to know the sun had set on him in the Hagen Woods. Either would surely come after him if they knew what he was doing.

He had found a small clearing, high enough to be dry, and had waited there since the sun had gone down. He could see the full moon through the tight tangle of branches, and judged it about two hands high. He didn’t know what was supposed to happen in the Hagen Woods when the sun set on you there, but so far it seemed as it always had when he had been there before at night.

He returned Liliana’s call, and she came out from behind a fat oak. She looked about at the woods. It wasn’t a tentative glance, but a confident appraisal.

She sat before him, crossing her legs. “I got it. The aid I told you about.”

Richard smiled in relief. “Thanks, Liliana.”

She pulled it from her cloak. In the moonlight, he could see it was a small statue of a man holding something clear as glass. She held it up, showing it to him.

“What is it?”

“The crystal, this clear part here, has the power to amplify the gift. I don’t have the power to get your Rada’han off, if it is true that you have Subtractive Magic, because I have only Additive. You will hold this in your lap. When we join our minds this will help amplify your power, so I can use it, and be able to break the hold.”

“Good. Let’s begin.”

She pulled the statue back. “Not until I tell you the rest.”

He looked into her pale, pale blue eyes, at the dark flecks spread through them. “So tell me.”

“The reason you can’t help get the collar off is because you don’t have the training to use your gift. You don’t know how to direct the power. This will overcome that deficiency. I hope.”

“You’re trying to work up to warning me about something.”

She gave a single nod. “You don’t know how to control the flow, so you be will at the mercy of the aid. But the aid doesn’t understand pain. It simply does what it must. What I need.”

“So you’re telling me it might hurt. I’m prepared to endure pain. Let’s get started.”

“Not ‘might’.” She held up a cautionary finger. “Richard, this is dangerous. It will hurt you. It will feel like your mind is being torn apart. I know you want to do this, but I don’t want to deceive you. This will make you think you are dying.”

He felt a trickle of sweat run down his neck.

“It must be done.”

“I will be directing my Han to try to break the hold of the collar. The aid will be pulling power from you, to do as I need to overcome the Rada’Han. It will hurt you.”

“Liliana, I can take whatever is necessary. It must be done.”

“You listen to me, Richard. I know you want to do this, but you listen. I will be pulling the gift from you, to help break the collar. Your mind will feel like I’m trying to pull the very life from you. Your inner mind may interpret that as me trying to suck the gift, the very life, from you.

“You will have to endure the feeling of having your life ripped from you. You will have to endure it until the collar breaks. If you try to stop it when my power is in you, trying to do as I must …”

“So what you are saying, is that if it’s too much, and I want to stop, I can’t. If I try to stop the pull on my magic, it will kill me.”

“Yes. You must not resist. If you do, you will die.” Her expression was as serious an he had ever seen it. “You must trust me, and not try to stop what is happening to you, or you will die, and then Kahlan will die. Are you sure you can do that?”

“Liliana, I would do anything, endure anything, to save Kahlan. I trust you. I will put my life in your hands.”

She at last nodded and placed the statue in his lap. She gazed into his eyes a long moment, and then kissed her finger. She touched the kissed finger to is cheek.

“Into the void, then, together. Thank you for your trust, Richard. You will never know what this means to me.”

“Nor to me, Liliana. What do you want me to do?”

“The same as we have always done before. You just try to touch your Han, as always, and I will do the rest.”

She wiggled forward until their knees were pressed together. They held hands, letting them rest over their knees. Each drew a deep breath, and closed their eyes.

At first, it was the same as it always was, just deep relaxation as he concentrated on the image of the Sword of Truth. The pain, at first, was simply an uncomfortable tingling. It spiraled deeper, settling at the base of his spine, feeling like a pulled muscle. The pain worked its way up his back.

Abruptly, it erupted everywhere at once, something like the pain of the Agiel; hot ache searing through the marrow of his bones. Denna had taught him to endure pain. He said a silent thank you to Denna, for what she had done. Maybe it would be what he needed to endure this, to save Kahlan.

The twisting torture took his breath. His back stiffened. Sweat instantly drenched his face. His lungs burned for air. With the greatest of effort, he drew a breath.

Shattering pain exploded through his mind, plunging him into a timeless place of ripping, unending agony. He struggled to hold the sword in his mind. Tears ran down his face. He had to do this.

It felt as if every nerve in his body was exposed and being held to a flame. He thought his eyes might burst. He thought his heart might burst. He flinched with each agonizing tug of pain. It was torture beyond endurance.

And then it seemed as if what he had felt had not yet been the beginning of it. He was unable to scream, to breathe, to move. It seemed his very soul was being ripped from him.

As Liliana had warned him, it seemed as if his very life was being pulled from him. He felt a wash of panic that this was killing him. He felt dark death soaking into the void left by what was being ripped from him. He dimly worried that this wasn’t right. Terror burgeoned deep within him, and then that too was pulled into the swirling torrent erupting outward.

He wanted nothing more than to scream, as if it would somehow ameliorate the agony. But he could not. His muscles seemed to be losing their life along with the rest of him. He could not breath, or even hold his head up.

Please
,
 Liliana, please hurry. Please.

He struggled not to resist what she was doing. He prayed that he would not fight her. He had to get to Kahlan. She needed him.

His eyes were open, he realized, when he recognized the statue in his lap. His head was hanging. The crystal was beginning to glow a dull orange. A dim part of him thought that that must mean it was working, doing its job. His head felt as if it were coming apart. He expected to see blood dripping down, but he saw only the orange glow increasing.

Please Liliana, hurry.

Blackness was enveloping him. Even the insufferable pain was beginning to seem distant. He felt life slipping from his grasp. He felt an emptiness coming upon him that was more ghastly that anything he thought possible.

In the fading recesses of his mind, he felt a presence.

Mriswith.

He felt them near. His level of alarm rose. They were around him, closing in.

And then he heard, as if from a great distance, Liliana’s voice. “Wait, my pets. You may have what is left, when I am finished with him. Wait.”

He could dimly see the mriswith in his mind, as he always had when they came to him. When Liliana spoke, they moved back.

Why would she say that? Why would the mriswith move back at her command. What did she mean? Maybe the pain had driven him insane, and it was only a mad illusion.

He felt a presence at his back. Not a mriswith. Worse. More gruesome by ten. He felt its fetid breath on his neck.

Liliana’s voice came in a dangerous hiss. “I said wait.” The presence receded a bit, but not as far as the mriswith.

What did she mean, they could have what was left? He was dying, that was what she meant. He could feel it. He was dying.

No. Liliana said he would think that. It was simply happening like she said, that was all. He had to be strong for Kahlan. But he had so little left to give. He was dying. He knew he was. The statue in his lap was glowing brighter.

The hot breath returned to his neck. He heard a low growl from the loathsome thing. He vehemently wanted it away from him.

Liliana’s menacing voice came again. “Wait. I will be finished in a moment, and then you may have his body. Wait.”

In that instant, something deep within him told him that if he was ever going to save himself, this was the last chance. It had to be now. The decision to act was sudden desperation.

From deep within, from the core of his mind, from the core of his being, from the core of his soul, he wrenched his will to action, and by force of will, with frantic, colossal effort, he yanked his power, his life—himself—back.

A thundering boom sounded, and an impact sundered the air, throwing the two of them apart. Richard landed on his back at one edge of the clearing, Liliana at the other. The Sword of truth was in the center. The mriswith and the other creature melted back into the darkness among the trees.

Richard gasped for air. He sat up and shook his head. The statue lay on the ground in the center, near his sword. The orange glow was gone.

Liliana floated upward without effort. It looked as if an invisible hand had lifted her gently to her feet. The sight raised hackles on the back of his neck.

She gave him a wicked smile. Richard hadn’t thought Liliana to be capable of such a vile grin. It made his toes curl in his boots.

“Oh, Richard, I was so close. I’ve never experienced anything like it. You have no idea of the glory of what you have. But I will have it yet.”

Richard glanced to the sides, trying to decide which way to run. He felt like a fool, and at the same time was overcome by a sense of profound loss. “Liliana, I trusted you. I thought you cared for me.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Did you?” The slow smile came back. “Maybe I did. Maybe that is why I was doing it the easy way. Now we do it the hard way.”

Richard blinked. “What do you mean, the hard way?”

“The quillion would have been the easy way. I have taken on the gift from many a male. But you resisted where they could not. Now I must skin you alive to have your gift. First, I will have to disable you. You will lie helpless, as I do it.”

She held out a hand. A sword floated out from behind the big oak, out of the darkness, and into her hand.

With a shriek, she swept across the clearing toward him. Her sword flashed in the moonlight.

Without thinking, Richard lifted his hand, calling his sword and its magic. The response was instant. The anger inundated him. He felt the hilt slam into his palm as Liliana swung her sword. The sword, the magic, the spirits, were with him. He brought the blade up, blocking her strike.

Dimly, Richard wondered why his sword didn’t shatter hers. But then he was moving. The dance with death had begun.

He countered her strikes, and she his. He evaded attacks that should have had him, and she thwarted attacks that should have had her. She spun like the wind, slipping away at the last instant. He felt as if he were fighting a shadow. No human could move the way she did. He could not move the way she did.

Behind, he felt the sudden, loathsome presence. He checked the thrust of her blade, and spun, bringing the sword around with lightning speed. For an instant, he saw a snarl of fangs, and a malicious glare, and then the sword made solid contact, and what was there was rendered unrecognizable as it disintegrated.

He felt her blade coming, and dove over the falling hulk. Rolling to his feet, he returning the attack. The night air rang over and over with the sound of steel on steel.

Richard realized that her blade must somehow be like his. She had a weapon the match of the Sword of Truth. Besides that, she had command of magic he could only imagine. He didn’t have to imagine long.

As the battle wound its way across the clearing, both straining with all the fury they could bring forth, she leapt back, and sent a bolt of fire racing toward him. He dodged at the last instant, and it flew past, hitting a tree. The trunk exploded in a shower of splinters. The top of the tree crashed down around him, some of the branches knocking him from his feet.

Liliana slashed through branches as thick as his arms to get at him. They splintered like the trunk had. Richard scrambled out from under and fought her back into the thick woods.

As they clashed over and over again while descending a steep hill, he began to analyze her tactics. She fought ferociously, but without grace—like a soldier in combat among the lines. He didn’t know how he knew that, except it had to come from the spirits of his sword’s magic.

The way she attacked, slashing and swinging, left her open for a thrusting counterattack. Richard pressed that attack at her, but when he finally managed to thrust at her middle, the strike that should have found its mark slid to the side. She was protected, somehow. She had the use of magic he didn’t understand.