Stone of Tears (88 page)

Prindin rushed to her. She focused all her fear, her dread, her pain and horror at what was happening, into action. It took everything she had. Prindin reached for her.

Kahlan came up swinging the stout limb. Prindin ducked and snatched her would-be club, wrenching it from her grip. He spun her to him and curled his arm around her head, over her mouth, as she tried to warn Chandalen. Though he wasn’t big, she knew Prindin to be incredibly strong, but in her present state, even a child could have had his way with her.

Chandalen ran up behind them, a knife in hand. Kahlan bit into Prindin’s arm. She cried out as Prindin spun with impossible speed and strength, catching Chandalen across the side of the head with the branch. The sound of the hollow thunk was sickening. The blow knocked Chandalen into the boughs of a fir tree. As she twisted from Prindin’s grip, she saw blood on the snow around Chandalen.

Tossidin, breathing hard, burst through the trees. “What is happening! Prindin!”

He saw them and stopped in his tracks. He looked to Chandalen and then to Prindin.

Prindin peered back over his shoulder at his brother, speaking in his own tongue. “
Chandalen tried to kill us! I came here just as he tried to kill the Mother Confessor. Help me. She is hurt.
”

Kahlan collapsed to her knees, crying out. “No … Tossidin … no …”

Tossidin ran toward them. “
What is this trouble Chandalen told me of? What is wrong with you, brother? What have you done?
”

“
Help me! The Mother Confessor has been hurt!
”

Tossidin gripped his brother’s shoulder and spun him around. “
Prindin! What have you …
”

Prindin slammed a knife into his brother’s chest. Tossidin’s eyes went wide in surprise. His mouth opened but no words came. With a wheeze, his legs buckled and he crumbled to the ground. Kahlan cried out. He had been stabbed through the heart.

Chandalen sat up with a groggy groan. He put his hands to his bleeding scalp. Keeping an eye to the wounded man, Prindin pulled a bone box from his waist pouch. He had a full box of
bandu
. He hadn’t given her all his poison.

Helpless to stop him, Kahlan saw Prindin wipe a generous gob of poison onto the arrow’s point. Dazed, Chandalen held his head in his hands as he tried to gather his wits. Prindin drew the bowstring to his cheek. She knew he was aiming for Chandalen’s throat. Just as Prindin released the arrow, she managed to throw herself against his legs, making the arrow go astray from its target. It still hit Chandalen in the shoulder.

The back of his fist across her face sent her sprawling. Powered by sheer terror, Kahlan started scrambling away on her hands and knees. The snow was freezing her fingers. The knees of her pants were soaked and icy wet. She concentrated on the cold to try to revive herself. She glanced over her shoulder as she clambered away.

Prindin drew another arrow from his quiver, and wiped it in the poison as he watched her struggle. Like he had watched Chandalen. A cry came from her throat as she staggered to her feet and ran. A nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.

The arrow felt like a club hitting the back of her left leg. She screamed and fell to her face. Her leg flamed in hot pain. A tingling, prickling sensation spread through the muscle. The pain seared through the bone, into her hip.

Prindin was suddenly over her. He knelt down and gripped the arrow sticking from the back of her leg. He put his other hand against her bottom to hold her, and yanked the arrow free. Kahlan could feel the tingle of the poison going up her leg.

“
Don’t worry, Mother Confessor, I did not use much poison on your arrow, like on Chandalen’s, just enough to make sure you will give me no trouble. He will be dead in another minute. You will live long enough to have your head chopped off.
” His hand stroked her bottom. “I
f they do not wait too long.
” Prindin leaned over her. “
It is too cold out here. We will go back.
”

He took hold of her wrist and started dragging her across the snow. In her mind, Kahlan fought him; she struggled, she shrieked, she hit, but she couldn’t make her body obey. She was as limp as a rag doll being dragged her over the snow. She could feel the poison spreading to her ribs.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Orsk. Tossidin. Chandalen. Her. How could Prindin do such a thing? She sobbed as her face slid over the snow. How could he? His own brother. He had stabbed his own brother as if it meant nothing. Who could do such a thing? How could anyone do such a thing? How could anyone but a …

Baneling.

She gasped with the realization. She had never fully believed in banelings, before. Wizards had told her they were real, but she never believed the wizards knew for sure. She had always thought it might be superstitious nonsense that sent people hunting things in the dark, things from the underworld, things bidden from the Keeper’s own dark whispers.

But now, she knew. She was in the grips of a baneling. Dear spirits, how could no one know? He had helped her so many times. He had befriended her.

So he could be close to her, and keep track of her for the Keeper. He was a baneling. Darken Rahl had laughed at her. Because she was so stupid.

She knew now, without a doubt—the veil was torn. Darken Rahl had promised her such things. He had come to tear the veil the rest of the way, and she had foolishly thought she was in control of what she was doing, but all the time Darken Rahl, and the Keeper, had watched her through Prindin’s eyes.

But why wait until now? Why let her fight in this war, let all these people die, before he snatched her?

Kahlan knew why. The Keeper was of the world of the dead. Bringing death to the world of the living was what he wanted. He resented the living. That was why he wanted the veil torn—so he could bring death to the world of the living.

He coveted this world’s breath of life. He enjoyed watching people die. He did not wish to stop it too soon, stop the suffering, the fear, the pain.

It felt as if her arm might tear from its socket as Prindin tugged her through the brush, and over a log half covered over with snow. The tingling of the poison had spread across her chest.

Her left leg had gone numb. At least, she thought, she couldn’t feel how much the arrow wound hurt. The round, iron point had hit the bone, and Prindin had not been gentle about pulling it out. At least it was numb, now.

When they reached the shelter, she could see bodies all about, not only the Galean men, but the men of the Imperial Order that Orsk had killed. Soon, when Prindin was finished with her, he would turn her over to the army of the Order, and she would be beheaded. It would be over, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She couldn’t even fight back. She would never see Richard again. Dear spirits, he would never know how much she loved him.

Prindin dragged her through the opening to the shelter and heaved her onto the mat of boughs. As he lit two more candles from the one that was almost burned down, she struggled to breath, to remain conscious.

“
I wish to be able to see you
,” he explained with a lecherous smile. “
You are very fine to look upon. I wish to see all of you.
”

She had always liked his smile. She didn’t like it now.

Prindin took off his fur mantle and tossed it aside. His smile vanished. His eyes were wild. He didn’t speak in her tongue anymore, but only his own.

“
Take off your clothes. I wish to look upon you, first. To be aroused by the sight of you.
”

Even if he had held a knife to her throat, she wouldn’t have been able to obey; she couldn’t move her arms. “Prindin,” she managed to whisper, “The men will be back soon. They will catch you here.”

“
They will be busy. They are having a fight like they never expected.
” His smile returned. “
They will not be back soon, if at all.
” The smile changed in an instant to a twisted expression of hot rage. “
I said take off your clothes!
”

“Prindin, you are my friend. Please. Don’t do this.”

He crawled on top of her, yanking at her belt. “
Then I will do it for you!
”

Tears, over her helplessness, over the loss of a friend to this madness, to the Keeper, ran down her cheeks. “Prindin, why?”

He sat up, as if surprised by the question. “
The great spirit said I may have you before he takes your spirit to the underworld. He said I am to have a reward, for the work I have done. The great spirit is pleased with me for delivering you to him.
”

The bite on her neck stung with prickling pain. She shivered with sorrow for Tossidin and Chandalen. She shivered at her own desolate, hopeless situation. The tingling from the poison had spread across her shoulders. She could feel the slight twinge of its first touch moving up her throat.

He squeezed her under him as he kissed the place on her neck where Darken Rahl’s lips had been, where the bite was. The pain, the visions, sent a silent shriek through her.

“
Prindin … please … after you have me … let me go?
” She hoped that hearing her words in his tongue would mean more to him. “
Please?
”

He lifted his head away, looking into her eyes. “
It would do no good for me to leave you. You have been poisoned, by the tea, and by the arrow. You will die soon, anyway. You must be beheaded before you die of the poison. It will be better. You will not suffer the poison’s end. That is my mercy to you.
”

Prindin grinned as he started to bend over her again, kissing her neck. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“
I hate you,
” she wept. “
You and your great spirit.
”

He sprang up, standing, as best he could in the small shelter, with his fists at his sides as he glared down at her.

“
You are to be mine! I have been promised! I will have you! Your power cannot harm me, I saw to that. It is used up for now. You are to be mine! If you will not give yourself to me, I will take you! You brought your hateful magic to my people, your hateful ways! You are evil, and I will take you, to conquer your wickedness! The great spirit has said it shall be so!
”

Prindin pulled his buckskin shirt off over his head, off his wiry frame. He leapt full onto her, landing with a grunt. His face was right above hers.

They stared at each other in surprise.

He had no idea what had happened. She knew
what
had happened, but had no idea
how.

She could feel his warm blood flowing over her fist. His pupils expanded. He coughed, splattering little droplets of blood across her face. With a long, slow gurgle, he went limp as his last breath left his lungs.

Tears ran down Kahlan’s face. She didn’t have the strength to push him off her; she could hardly breathe under his weight.

And so she lay still, feeling his blood drain over her hand between her breasts and soak into her shirt. The tingling of the poison had risen up her neck.

In the tingling blackness, her lip hurt. Something was jabbing against the cut, making it throb. Something was in her mouth. She thought it felt like a finger, poking into her mouth.

“Swallow!”

Kahlan frowned in the darkness, in her sleep.

“Swallow! Do you hear me? Swallow!”

Making a sour face, she did as commanded. The finger pushed more of the dry things into her mouth.

“Swallow again!”

She swallowed, hoping the voice would leave her alone, now. It did. She sank back down into the tingling void. She drifted in the nowhere place, unaware. She had no concept of time, no idea how long she floated.

With a gasp, her eyes opened. She blinked around at her shelter. The candles were burned halfway down. Her fur mantle was covering her.

Chandalen leaned over, peering down at her. A broad smile spread on his lips. He let out a long sigh of relief.

“You are back,” he said. “You are safe, now.”

“Chandalen?” She tried to make sense of what she was seeing. “Am I in the underworld, or are you are not dead?”

He laughed quietly. “Chandalen is hard to kill.”

She worked her tongue, trying to wet her dry mouth. She was awake, really awake, for the first time in as long as she could remember. It seemed she had forgotten what it was like to be awake, how vibrant it felt. Still, she did not move, afraid the blackness would return.

“But, Prindin shot you with a ten-step arrow. I saw it.”

He turned a bit, looking away in chagrin. She could see that his black hair was matted with dried blood. He gave a flip of his hand, as if uneasy that he had to explain.

“Remember I told you that our ancestors took
quassin doe
before they went into battle, so that if they were shot with a ten-step arrow, the poison would not kill them?” She nodded. He tenderly tested his wounded scalp. “Well, in honor of my ancestors, my warrior ancestors, I ate some of the
quassin doe
leaves before I went to fight. The
quassin doe
you gave to me back at that city.” His eyebrows lifted, as if further justification was needed. “It was to honor my ancestors.”

Kahlan smiled warmly to him as she put a hand to his arm. “You have done your ancestors proud.”

He helped her sit up. In the dim light, she saw that Prindin lay next to her, on his back.

The bone knife, the bone knife made from Chandalen’s grandfather’s bones, the one she had worn at her arm, jutted from Prindin’s chest. The black feathers fanned out around the hilt end, draped like a shroud over the fatal wound. Somehow, she had managed to put that knife between them when Prindin had leaped on her. Somehow.

She remembered her numb, helpless plight. She remembered the tingling feeling of the poison, and that she couldn’t move. She remembered her terror. She remembered Prindin’s leap onto her.

But she didn’t remember pulling the knife.

Her voice trembled. “I’m so sorry, Chandalen.” Her fingers covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry that I killed your friend.”

Chandalen glared at the body. “He was not my friend. My friends do not try to kill me.” He put a comforting hand to her shoulder. “He was send by the great, dark spirit of the dead. His heart was taken by evil.”

Kahlan clutched his sleeve. “Chandalen, that great, dark spirit of the dead is trying to escape from behind the veil. He wants to pull us all behind the veil, into the world of the dead.”

His brown eyes studied hers. “I believe you. We must get you to Aydindril, so you may help stop him.”

She sagged with relief. “Thank you, Chandalen. Thank you for understanding, and for saving me with the
quassin doe
.” Kahlan clutched his arm. “The men! Prindin set a trap for them! What time is it?”

He made a comforting, hushing sound. “When Captain Ryan came to Tossidin and me before the attack, I asked where you were. I knew you would want to be with them. He told me that you were sick. That you could not wake. It sounded to me like
bandu
.

“Captain Ryan said you would not eat, and would have only tea Prindin made for you. I knew then, what was happening. I knew you had been poisoned, and the only thing you had was tea.

“Tossidin and I were greatly worried for you. We checked to see if the enemy had changed position. We saw that they were waiting for the attack where we had planned it at first. I made the men change the attack, and come from a different place than expected. As soon as I gave the new orders, we rushed back here.

“I knew Prindin had betrayed us, but Tossidin thought there must be some other explanation. He trusted his brother and did not want to think evil of him. He paid for his trust, his mistake, with his life.”

Kahlan looked away in the uneasy quiet. She frowned back at him. “What of the arrow? What of the wound on your head? We must see to your wounds.”

Chandalen pulled the neck of his buckskin shirt to the side, revealing a bandage over his left shoulder. “The men returned in the night. They stitched my head. It is not as bad as it looks. They also took out the arrow.”

He winced as he pulled the shirt back up on his shoulder. “I taught Prindin well. He used a bladed arrow. Bladed arrows do more harm coming out than going in. One of the men, the one who cuts and sews the wounded, cut out the arrow, and stitched me together. The arrow hit the bone, so it did not go in too far. My arm is stiff, and I will not be able to use it for a time.”

Kahlan felt her leg. There was a bandage under her pants. “Did he stitch my leg, too?”

“No. It did not need sewing, just to be wrapped; I did that. Prindin used a round point on you. That is not like I taught him. I don’t know why he would do that.”

Kahlan could feel the presence of the body next to her. “He wanted to be able to get it out of me, after he shot me with poison,” she said quietly. “He wanted it out of his way. He was going to rape me before he gave me to the enemy.”

Chandalen watched the body, not wanting to look at her, and said he was glad that had not happened.

She touched his left hand. “And I’m glad it was your shoulder, and not your throat.”

He frowned. “I taught Prindin how to shoot. He would never miss my throat from that distance. Why did he not shoot my throat?”

She shrugged, feigning ignorance. He grunted suspiciously.

“Chandalen, why is his body still in here? Why didn’t you drag him out?”

He moved his wounded arm a bit with his other, making it more comfortable. “Because Grandfather’s spirit knife is still in him.” He regarded her with a serious expression. “You have used the aid of grandfather’s bones, his spirit, to protect yourself, to take another life. Grandfather’s spirit is bonded to you now. No other may touch his bone knife, now. It is yours, and only you may touch it. You must remove it.”

Kahlan momentarily contemplated whether or not she could just leave the knife where it was, and bury it with the body. She thought maybe the bone knife should be put to rest, too. But she discarded the thought. To the Mud People this was powerful spirit magic. She would insult Chandalen if she rejected the knife.

She thought, too, that maybe she would be insulting the spirit of Chandalen’s grandfather if she didn’t take the back knife. She wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t the spirit in the bone knife that had killed Prindin to save her. She didn’t know how the knife had gotten into her hand.

Kahlan reached out and wrapped her fingers around the round end protruding from Prindin’s chest. It made a sucking sound as she pulled it from the body. She wiped it clean on the balsam boughs covering the floor.

Kahlan brought the round end to her lips and kissed it lightly. “Thank you, spirit grandfather, for saving my life.” Somehow, it seemed the right thing to do.

Chandalen smiled as she slid the bone knife into the band on her arm. “You are a good Mud Person. You knew what to do without me telling you. Grandfather’s spirit will watch over you always.”

“Chandalen, we must get to Aydindril. The veil to the underworld is torn. We have done what we must to help these men. I must do my job, now.”

“When we first found these men, I did not want to stay with them. I wanted to be away from their fight so that you would be safe.” He stared off at nothing. “Somehow, I forgot that thought, and all I wanted to do was fight and kill the enemy.”

“I know,” she whispered, “that happened to me, too. I forgot all about what I was supposed to be doing. It is almost as if we, too, listened to the great, dark spirit. The veil is torn. Maybe that is why we were distracted.”

“You think that this veil is torn, and because of that we forgot what we were to do, and wanted only to kill?”

“Chandalen, I don’t know the answers to these things. I must get to Aydindril. The wizard will know what to do. Richard needs help. We have taken enough time here. We must not waste any more. We must talk to the men, and then be on our way. Are they out there?” He nodded. “Then let’s get going.”

She started to rise, but he put his good hand to her arm and stopped her. “They have been waiting outside your shelter all night. I would not let them come inside.”

He took his hand back as he seemed to search for the right words. “I feared greatly that you would die this night. I didn’t know if I had given you the
quassin doe
in time. Prindin had been giving you poison without our knowing it, for a long time. You almost went to the spirit world.

“If you would have died, I would never be able to return to my people again. But that is not why I am glad you live. I am glad because you are a good Mud Person. You are a protector to our people, the same as Chandalen. We each fight in our own way.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Lately, you have been fighting too much like Chandalen fights. You are good at it, but you should leave that to me, and fight in the way you are meant to fight.”

Kahlan smiled. “You are right. Thank you for sitting with me all night. It was good to have you near. I’m sorry you were hurt.”

He shrugged. “Someday, when I find a woman for myself, I will have scars to show her, so she may see how brave Chandalen is.”

Kahlan laughed. “I’m sure she will be impressed with your bravery when you were shot with an arrow.”

Chandalen gave her a crooked look. “It does not prove I was brave because I was shot with an arrow. Anyone can be shot.” He lifted his chin. “I am brave because I did not cry out when the the arrow was cut from me.”

Some day, Kahlan thought, some fortunate woman would have her hands full with this one. “I am glad the good spirits watched over you, and you are with me.”

He narrowed his eyes as he peered at her. “I do not know what happened, but I think Prindin missed my throat because you were watching over me, too.”

She only grinned. When she looked to the body, her grin withered. She stroked the fur of her mantle. “Poor Tossidin. He loved his brother. I will miss him.”

Chandalen glanced to the body. “I have known them since they were young boys. They both followed me around, begging me to teach them. Begging to be one of my men.” He hung his head in silence. Finally, he returned his attention to her. “The men are worried greatly about you. They are waiting.”

Kahlan followed as he crawled out on his knees and one hand. She dragged the sword with her. Outside, in the light, there was a sudden rustle of sound as men rose to their feet.

Captain Ryan rushed forward, but a big man, with one arm in a sling, thrust his good arm across the Captain’s chest, stopping him cold. He held a monstrous war axe in his fist.

“Orsk? You are alive, too?”

His eyes were red from weeping. Kahlan remembered the way her father had wept when her mother, his Mistress, was ill.

“Mistress!” Tears sprang anew to his eyes. “You are well! What do you wish?”

“Orsk, these men are all my friends. None of them will hurt me. You do not need to keep them away. I am safe. It would please me if you just sat quietly for now.”

Instantly, he flopped to the ground. Kahlan gave a questioning frown to Chandalen.

Chandalen shrugged. “I saw him fight to protect you, and Prindin wanted to kill him, so I gave him
quassin doe
. The men dug the arrow from his back. I am not sure how badly he is hurt; he has no interest in his wound, only in you. I was only able to keep him out of the shelter by telling him you needed to be left alone or you might not recover, but he would not leave this spot as long as you were inside.”

Kahlan sighed as she gazed at the grisly face staring silently up at her. She could hardly stand to look at the jagged white scar, and the one eye that was sewn shut. She returned her attention to an impatient Captain Ryan, and the hundreds of faces behind him.

“How goes the war?”

“The war! Dash the war! Are you all right? You had us scared to death!” He cast a hot glance at Chandalen, and then at Orsk sitting in the snow. “These two wouldn’t even let me have a peek at you, to see how you were.”

“That is their job,” Kahlan said. She gave them a warm smile. “Thank you all for your concern. Chandalen has saved me.”

“Well, what happened? This place was a mess. The dozen men I left her were slaughtered. By a
troga
. Prindin and Tossidin are dead. And there were dead men of the Order. We feared they killed you.”