Wizard's First Rule by Terry Goodkind
“Kahlan, let go of me!”
She was too terrified to do it. She clutched him tightly, desperately, panting in pain. The green sheet came up as they were dragged in. The buzzing was loud in his ears.
“Let go!” he yelled again.
He tried to pry her hands from his waist. The trees of the bog started to fade into darkness. Richard could feel the pressure of the wall. He couldn’t believe how strongly she held him. On his back, sliding across the ground, he tried to reach behind himself to pull her wrists away from him, but could not. Their only chance was for him to get up.
“Kahlan! You have to let go or we’re dead! I won’t let them get you! Trust me! Let go!” He didn’t know if he was telling her the truth, but he was sure it was their only chance.
Her head pressed against his stomach as she clutched his body. Kahlan looked up at him, her face contorting in pain as the black thing squeezed. She screamed, then let go.
In a blink Richard was on his feet. As he jumped up, the dark wall materialized abruptly in front of him. His father reached out. He unleashed his rage, swinging the sword with every fiber of violence he possessed. The blade swept through the barrier, through the thing he knew wasn’t his father. The dark shape wailed, exploding into a cloud of nothingness.
Kahlan’s feet were at the wall, the dark thing enfolded tightly around her legs, compressing and pulling. He brought the sword up. Murderous need surged through him.
“Richard, no! It’s my sister!”
He knew it wasn’t, just as it wasn’t his father. He gave himself over completely to the hot need and brought the sword down as hard as he could. Again it swept through the wall, slashed through the repulsive thing that held Kahlan. There was a confusion of flashes, unearthly wailing and keening. Kahlan’s legs were free. She lay sprawled on her stomach.
Without looking to see what else was happening, Richard pushed his arm under her waist and lifted her in a single motion, scooping her off the ground. He held her tight against himself and held the sword toward the wall as he retreated from the boundary. Backing away steadily, he watched for any movement, any aggression. They left the green light.
He kept going until they were well clear, beyond the horses. When he stopped at last and released her, Kahlan turned and threw her arms around him, shaking. He had to struggle to restrain the rage that urged him to go back in and attack. He knew he would have to put the sword away to quell the anger, the need, but he didn’t dare to.
“The others, where are they?” she asked in a panic. “We have to find them.”
Kahlan pushed away from him and started to run back. Richard snatched her by the wrist, almost yanking her from her feet.
“Stay here!” he yelled far more angrily than required, pushing her to the ground.
Richard found Zedd in a heap, unconscious. As he bent to the old man, something swept out in a rush over his head. His anger erupted. He spun with the sword, the blade sweeping through the dark form. The stump reeled back into the boundary with a shrill screeching, the severed part vaporizing in midair. Richard picked up Zedd with one arm, threw him over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and carried him to Kahlan, where he laid him gently on the ground. She held the wizard’s head in her lap, inspecting for wounds. Richard ducked low as he ran back, but the expected attack didn’t come. He wished it would; he longed for the fight, hungered to strike. He found Chase jammed partway under a log. Richard seized the mail and pulled him over. Blood oozed from a gash on the side of Chase’s head. Debris was stuck to the wound.
Richard’s mind raced, trying to think what to do. He couldn’t lift Chase with one arm, and he didn’t dare to put the sword away. He did know he didn’t want Kahlan to come help, he wanted her to stay safely away. Getting a good grip on the warden’s leather tunic, Richard started dragging him. The slick bog weed eased the effort somewhat, but it was still difficult, because he had to go around several fallen trees. Surprisingly, nothing attacked. Maybe he had hurt it, or killed it. He wondered if it was possible to kill something already dead. The sword had magic. Richard wasn’t sure what it was capable of; he wasn’t even sure if the things in the boundary were dead. He finally reached Kahlan and Zedd, and dragged Chase close. The wizard was still unconscious.
Kahlan’s face was white with worry. “What are we going to do?”
Richard scanned around. “We can’t stay here, and we can’t leave them. Let’s put them over the horses and get out of here. We’ll look to their wounds as soon as we’re a safe distance away.”
The clouds were thicker than before, and mist covered everything with a wet sheen. As he checked in every direction, Richard put the sword away and easily lifted Zedd over his horse. Chase was more difficult. He was big, and all his weapons were heavy. Blood throbbed from the wound on the side of his forehead, soaking his hair, and hanging him over the side of the horse made it bleed more. Richard decided he couldn’t leave it untended. He quickly retrieved an aum leaf and a strip of cloth from a pack. He crumpled the leaf to make it seep its healing fluid, pressed it against the wound, and had Kahlan wrap the cloth around Chase’s head. The cloth soaked through almost immediately, but he knew the aum leaf would stop the bleeding in a short time.
Richard helped Kahlan up onto her horse. He could tell that her legs hurt more than she would admit. He gave her the reins of Zedd’s horse, mounted up, took Chase’s horse, and then carefully got his bearings. He knew they would have a hard time finding the trail; the mist was getting heavy, visibility limited. There seemed to be ghosts watching from the shadows in every direction. He didn’t know if he should lead or follow Kahlan, didn’t know how best to protect her, so he rode beside her. Zedd and Chase weren’t tied down and could easily slip off the horses, so they had to take it slow. The dead spruce looked the same in every direction, and they couldn’t go in a straight line because they had to cut back and forth around fallen trees. Richard spat out mosquitoes that kept flying into his mouth.
The sky was the same dark steel gray everywhere; there was no chance to tell where the sun was, to get oriented. After a time, Richard wasn’t at all sure they were going in the right direction; it seemed they should have reached the trail already. He took fixes from landmark trees, and when they reached each one he would pick a new one farther ahead, hoping they were traveling in a straight line. To do it properly he knew he had to be able to line up at least three trees to make sure the line of travel was straight, but he couldn’t see that far in the mist. He couldn’t be sure he wasn’t leading them in circles. Even if he was going in a straight line, he wasn’t sure the direction was toward the trail.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Kahlan asked. “It all looks the same.”
“No. But at least we haven’t run into the boundary.”
“Do you think we should stop and tend to them?”
“We don’t dare. For all I know we could be ten feet from the underworld.”
Kahlan looked around, worried. Richard gave thought to having her wait with the other two while he went ahead and scouted for the trail, but dismissed the idea, as he was afraid he might not be able to find her again. They had to stay together. He started to wonder what they would do if they couldn’t find their way out before dark. How would they protect themselves against the heart hounds? If there were enough of them, even the sword couldn’t hold them all off at once. Chase had said they had to get to the swamp before nightfall. He hadn’t said why, or how the swamp could protect them. The brown bog weed was an endless sea all around, with hulks of trees aground in it everywhere.
An oak appeared off to their left, then some more, some with leaves shimmering dark green and wet in the mist. This was not the way they had come in. Richard turned them to the right a little, following the edge of the dead bog, hoping it would lead them back to the trail.
Shadows from the brush among the oaks watched them. He told himself it was his imagination that made the shadows seem to have eyes. There was no wind, no move
Richard breathed out in relief when he saw the trail at last. They quickly dismounted and checked their two charges. There was no change in Zedd, but at least Chase’s wound had stopped bleeding. Richard had no idea what to do for them. He didn’t know if they had been knocked unconscious, or if their condition was caused by some sort of magic from the boundary. Kahlan didn’t know either.
“What do you think we should do?” she asked him.
Richard tried not to look as worried as he really was. “Chase said we had to get to the swamp or the hounds would get us. It won’t do them any good to be laid out here and tended to while we wait for them to wake, only to have the hounds get us all. As I see it, we have only two choices: leave them here or take them with us. There is no way I’m leaving them. Let’s tie them down on the horses so they don’t fall off, and get to the swamp.”
Kahlan agreed. They worked quickly to lash their friends to the horses. Richard changed Chase’s bandage, and cleaned up the wound a little. The mist was changing to a light rain. He fished around in the packs, finding the blankets, and removed the oilcloth they were wrapped in. They put a blanket over each friend, then covered them with the oilcloth to keep them dry, crisscrossing rope over it all to hold it in place.
When they were finished, Kahlan unexpectedly put her arms around him, hugging him close and tight for a moment, separating before he could return her gesture.
“Thank you for saving me,” she said softly. “The boundary terrifies me.” She looked sheepishly up at him. “And if you remind me what I said about not coming after me, I’ll kick you.” She smiled as she looked up from under her eyebrows.
“Not a word. I promise.”
He smiled back at her and pulled up the hood of her cloak, stuffing her hair into it, to keep her dry in the rain. He pulled up his own hood and they started off down the road.
The woods were deserted. Rain dripped down through the tangle overhead. Branches reached around the trail like talons reaching to snatch both people and horses. Even without their riders’ direction, the horses trotted their way carefully down the center of the road, their ears pricking from one side to the other, as if listening to the shadows. So dense was the thicket to each side that there was no chance they could take to the trees if they had to. Kahlan drew her cloak tighter. It was go on, or go back. And there was no going back. They rode the horses hard the rest of the afternoon and evening.
When the day’s death began stealing away the soft gray light, they still had not reached the swamp, and there was no way to tell how much farther it was. Off through the tangled woods, they caught the sound of howling. Their breath caught in their throats.
The heart hounds were coming.
15
The horses needed no encouragement to run. They fled down the road at full speed, their riders making no attempt to slow them, the howls of the heart hounds energizing the effort. Water and mud splashed as their hooves pounded the road, and rain ran in rivulets across their hides, but it was the mud that won out, streaking and caking on their legs and bellies. When the hounds shrieked, the horses returned a snort of fear.
Richard let Kahlan take the lead, wanting to stay between her and their pursuers. The sounds of the heart hounds were still distant, off toward the boundary, but he knew by the way they were angling in from the left that it was only a matter of time until they would be overtaken. If they could turn to the right and head away from the boundary, there was a chance they could outrun the hounds, but the woods were thick, impenetrable; it would be slow going if they could find an opening, a sure death if they tried. Their only chance was to stay on the road and reach the swamp before they were caught. Richard didn’t know how far it was, or what they would do once they reached it, only that they had to.
The colors of day were washing out into a sullen gray as night approached. Rain pelted his face in small, cold pricks, heated and mingled with sweat, and ran down his neck. Richard watched the bodies of his two friends bounce and jostle on the horses, hoping they were tied down securely enough, hoping they were not badly hurt, hoping they would be conscious soon. The ride couldn’t be doing them any good. Kahlan didn’t turn or look back. She bent to her task, her dark form hunched forward over the horse as it ran.
The road curved back and forth as it threaded its way around imposing misshapen oaks and rock outcroppings. Dead trees became more infrequent. Leaves of the oak, ash, and maple trees sealed the riders away from the last vestiges of the sky, darkening the trail even more. The hounds were getting closer when the road began to descend into a sodden wood of cedar. A good sign, Richard thought: cedar often grew where the ground was wet.
Kahlan’s horse disappeared over the edge of a drop. Richard reached the brink of the sharp slope and saw her again, descending into a bowl in the earth. The tangled tops of trees spread out into the distance, at least as much of it as he could see in the mist and dim light. It was the Skow Swamp, at last.
The smell of wet and rot assailed him as he followed her in a rush, down through swirling trailers of mist that moved and spun at their passing. Sharp calls and hoots came from the dense vegetation. The howls of the heart hounds came from behind, closer now. Woody vines hung from slick twisted limbs of trees that stood in the water on roots looking like claws, and smaller leafy vines spiraled around anything strong enough to hold them. Everything seemed to be growing on top of something else, seeking to gain an advantage. Water, dark and still, sat in stagnant expanses, sneaking in under clumps of bushes, enveloping stands of fat-bottomed trees. Duck weed drifted in thick mats on the water, looking like manicured lawn. The lush growth seemed to swallow the sound of their horse’s hooves, allowing only the native calls to echo across the waters.
The road narrowed into a trail that struggled to remain above the black water, making it necessary to slow the horses for fear they would break a leg on the roots. Richard saw that as Kahlan’s horse passed, the surface of the water rolled in lazy ripples as things moved under it. He heard the hounds at the top of the bowl. Kahlan turned at the howls. If they stayed on the trail, the hounds would be at them in a matter of minutes. As Richard looked around he pulled the sword free. It sent its distinctive ringing across the murky water. Kahlan stopped and looked back to him.
“There”—he pointed with the sword across the water to their right—“that island. It looks high enough to be dry. Maybe the heart hounds can’t swim.”
He thought it a slim hope, but could think of nothing else. Chase had said they would be safe from the hounds in the swamp, but hadn’t told them how. This was the only thing he could think of. Kahlan didn’t hesitate. She led her horse right in, pulling Zedd’s behind. Richard followed close after with Chase’s, watching up the trail, seeing movement through gaps in the trees. The water seemed to be no more than three or four feet deep, with a muddy bottom. Weed broke from its anchoring and floated to the surface as Kahlan’s horse waded through ahead of him, making steady progress to the island.
Then he saw the snakes.
Dark bodies wriggled in the water, just below the surface, heading toward them from every direction. Some lifted their heads, flicking red tongues out into the damp air. Their dark brown bodies had copper-colored splotches, almost invisible in the gloomy water, and barely disturbed the surface as they swam. Richard had never seen snakes this big. Kahlan was watching the island and hadn’t noticed them yet. The dry land was too far away. He knew they weren’t going to make it before the snakes reached them.
Richard turned and looked behind to see if they could make it back to high ground. Where they had left the trail, the dark shapes of the heart hounds were gathered, snarling and growling. Heads held low, the big black bodies paced back and forth, wanting to enter the water, to reach their prey, but only howling instead.
Richard lowered the tip of the sword into the water,
They worked their way among the large trunks of trees that stood like columns in the mire. Each in turn brushed aside vines and streamers of moss as they passed. When they crossed shallower areas of water, the tip of his sword no longer reached the water. The snakes returned immediately. He leaned lower, the sword’s tip dipping back in the water, and the snakes turned once more, wanting nothing to do with them. Richard wondered what would happen when they reached dry land. Would the snakes follow them there? Would the sword’s magic work to keep them away out of the water? The snakes might be as much trouble as the heart hounds.
Water ran off the underside of Kahlan’s horse as it climbed up onto the island. There were a few poplar trees at the high point in the center and cedars at the water’s edge on the far side of the small hump of dry ground, but mostly it was covered with reed and a smattering of iris. To see what would happen, Richard took the sword from the water before he needed to. The snakes began to come for him. When he left the water, some turned and swam away, some wandered the shoreline, but none followed onto dry land.
In near darkness, Richard laid Zedd and Chase on the ground beneath the poplars. He pulled a tarp from the packs and strung it between the trees to make a small shelter. Everything was wet, but since there was no wind, the makeshift structure kept most of the rain off them. There was no chance of a fire, for now, since all the wood that could be found was thoroughly soaked. At least the night wasn’t cold. Frogs kept up a steady chirping from the wet darkness. Richard placed a pair of fat candles on a piece of wood so they could have some light under their shelter.