Wizard's First Rule by Terry Goodkind
“If you help me save my friends, and stop Rahl, I don’t care what you do to me after that.” Scarlet snorted. “Are short-tailed gars a threat to dragons?”
The dragon unhooked her talon from him. “Gars.” She spat the name. “I have eaten enough of them. They are no match for me, not unless there were eight or ten together, but gars don’t like to gather together in numbers, so that’s not a problem.”
“It’s a problem now. When I saw your egg, there were dozens of gars around it.”
Scarlet gave a grunt, and tongues of flame licked out between her teeth. “Dozens. That many could pull me from the sky. Especially if I were carrying my egg.”
Richard smiled. “That’s why you need me. I will think of a plan.”
Zedd screamed. Kahlan and Chase both jerked back. Kahlan’s brow wrinkled. He had never done this before when he had sought out the night stone. The sun was already down, but in the fading light she could see his skin was nearly as white as his hair.
She grasped him by the shoulders. “Zedd! What is it?”
He didn’t answer. His head fell to the side as his eyes rolled back. He still wasn’t breathing, but that much was normal; he hadn’t breathed in the past when he sought the night stone. She exchanged a worried glance with Chase. Kahlan could feel Zedd shivering under her hands. She shook him again.
“Zedd! Stop it! Come back!”
He gave a gasp, whispered something. Kahlan put her ear by his mouth. He whispered again.
Kahlan was horrified. “Zedd, I can’t do that to you.”
“What did he say?” Chase demanded.
She looked up at the boundary warden, her eyes wide in fear. “He said to touch him with my power.”
“Underworld!” Zedd gasped. “Only way.”
“Zedd, what’s happening?”
“I’m trapped,” he whispered. “Touch me or I’m lost. Hurry.”
“You better do as he says,” Chase warned.
Kahlan didn’t like that idea one bit. “Zedd, I can’t do that to you!”
“It’s the only way to break the hold. Hurry.”
“Do it!” Chase bellowed. “There’s no time to argue!”
“May the good spirits forgive me,” she whispered as she closed her eyes.
She felt trapped by panic; she had no choice. Dreading what she was going to do, her mind fell silent, calm. In the calm, she relaxed her restraint. She felt her power build, taking her breath away. Released, the power slammed into the wizard.
There was a hard impact to the air all about. Thunder with no sound. Pine needles rained down all about. Leaning over them, Chase gave a little grunt of pain; he was closer than he should have been. Silence fell over the woods. Still the wizard did not breathe.
Zedd stopped shaking, his eyes came down, he blinked a few times, his hands came up and he gripped Kahlan’s arms. With a gasp, he took a breath.
“Thank you, dear one,” he managed through the deep breaths.
Kahlan was surprised that the power, the magic, didn’t seem to have taken him. It should have. She was relieved it hadn’t, but astonished.
“Zedd, are you all right?”
The wizard gave a nod. “Thanks to you. But if you hadn’t been here, or had waited any longer, I would have been trapped in the underworld. Your power has brought me back.”
“Why didn’t it change you?”
Zedd straightened his robes, seeming a little embarrassed at his helpless predicament. “Because of where I was.” He held his chin up. “And because I’m a wizard of the First Order. I used your Confessor’s power as a lifeline, to find my way back. It was like a beacon of light in the darkness. I followed it back without letting it touch me.”
“What were you doing in the underworld?” Chase asked before she had a chance.
Zedd gave a cross look to the boundary warden, and didn’t answer.
Kahlan’s worry surged. “Zedd, answer the question. This never happened before. Why were you pulled into the underworld?”
“When I seek the night stone, part of me goes to it. That’s how I find it, and can tell where it is.”
Kahlan tried not to think of what he was saying. “But the night stone is still in D’Hara. Richard is still in D’Hara.” She grabbed fists full of his robes. “Zedd…”
Zedd’s eyes went to the ground. “The night stone is no longer in D’Hara. It’s in the underworld.” His angry eyes came up to her. “But that doesn’t mean Richard is not still in D’Hara! It doesn’t mean anything has happened to him! Only the night stone.”
With a strained expression. Chase turned to setting up the camp before darkness fell. Kahlan still held Zedd’s robes, frozen in terror.
“Zedd… please. Could you be wrong?”
He shook his head slowly. “The night stone is in the underworld. But dear one, that doesn’t mean Richard is. Don’t let your fear run away with you.”
Kahlan nodded as she felt tears run down her cheeks. “Zedd, he has to be all right. He has to. If Rahl has kept him there this long, he wouldn’t kill him now.”
“We don’t even know that Rahl has him.”
She knew he just didn’t want to admit it out loud. Why else would he be at the People’s Palace, if Darken Rahl didn’t have him?
“Zedd, when you sought the night stone before, you said you could feel him, that he was alive.” She almost couldn’t bring herself to ask, could hardly get the words out, afraid of what he might say. “Did you sense him in the underworld?”
He looked into her eyes a long time. “I didn’t sense him. But I don’t know if I would, if he were in the underworld. If he were dead.” When she started crying, he pulled her against him, hugging her head to his shoulder. “But I think it was only the night stone there. I think Rahl was trying to trap me there. He must have gotten the night stone from Richard, must have sent it to the underworld to snare me.”
“We’re still going after him,” she cried. “I’m not turning back.”
“Well, of course we are.”
Kahlan felt a warm tongue on the back of her hand. She stroked the wolf’s fur, smiled over at him.
“We’ll find him. Mistress Kahlan. Don’t you worry, we’ll find him.”
“Brophy’s right,” Chase called over his shoulder. “I’m even looking forward to the lecture we’ll be getting about coming after him.”
“The box is safe,” the wizard said, “that’s what matters. Five days from tomorrow is the first day of winter, and then Darken Rahl will be dead. We will have Richard back after that, if not before.”
“I’ll get us there before then, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Chase grumbled.
45
Richard held the thick spines on Scarlet’s shoulders in a death grip as she made a banking turn to the left. He had learned, much to his amazement, that when she leaned into a turn, it didn’t make him slide off the side, but pressed him harder against her. Richard found the experience of flying at once exhilarating and frightening, like standing on the edge of an impossibly high cliff—that moved. The feel of her body lifting him into the air made him grin. Muscles flexed beneath him as she stroked the air with her powerful wings, each beat giving a lift. When she folded her wings back and dove toward the ground, the wind made his eyes water, and the feeling of falling took his breath away and made him feel as though his stomach would rise inside him. He marveled at the very idea of riding a dragon.
“Do you see them?” he called out over the sound of the wind.
Scarlet gave a grunt to indicate that she did. In the fading light, the gars looked like black dots moving about on the rocky ground below. Steam trailed up from Fire Spring, and even this high up Richard could smell the acrid fumes. Scarlet rose steeply into the air, making his legs press against her as she lifted them higher; then she rolled into a sharp bank to the right.
“There are far too many,” she called back.
Her head tilted behind, one yellow eye peering at him. Richard pointed.
“Go down there, behind those hills, and don’t let them see us.”
Scarlet climbed with strong strokes. When they were higher than they had been so far, she glided away from Fire Spring. She swooped down, between the rocky slopes, threading her way back toward where Richard had told her to land. With a silent flutter of wings, she gently settled on the ground near the mouth of a cave, and lowered her neck so he could climb down. Richard knew she didn’t want him on her back any longer than necessary.
Her head swung around toward him, her eyes angry, impatient. “There are too many gars. Darken Rahl knows I can’t fight that many; that’s why there are so many there—in case I ever found my egg. You said you would think of a plan. What is it?”
Richard glanced over at the mouth of the cave. The Shadrin’s cave, Kahlan had told him. “We need a diversion, something to distract them while we get the egg.”
“While you get the egg,” Scarlet corrected, with a little flame to make her point.
He looked over at the cave again. “One of my friends told me the cave goes all the way through, to where the egg is. Maybe I could go through, snatch the egg, and bring it back.”
“Get going.”
“Shouldn’t we discuss if it’s a good idea? Maybe we could think of something better. I’ve also heard there might be something in the cave.”
Scarlet brought her angry eye closer to him. “Something in the cave?” She snaked her head around to the opening and sent a horrific blast of fire into the darkness. Her head came back. “Now there’s nothing in the cave. Go get my egg.”
The cave was miles long. Richard knew the fire wouldn’t have harmed anything farther back. He also knew he had given his word. Collecting cane reeds growing nearby, he bound them together with a sinewy vine into several bundles. He held one bundle up to Scarlet as she watched him.
“Light the end of this for me?”
The dragon pursed her lips and blew a thin stream of flame across the end of the cane reeds.
“You wait here,” he told her. “Sometimes it’s better to be small than big. I won’t be spotted so easily. I’ll think of something, and get the egg, and bring it back through the cave. It’s a long way. It may take until morning before I’m back. I don’t know how close the gars will be behind me, so we might need to leave in a hurry. Stay sharp, all right?” He hooked his pack over a spine on her back. “Keep this for me. I don’t want to carry more than I have to.”
Richard didn’t know if a dragon could look worried, but he thought she did.
“Be careful with the egg? It will hatch soon, but if the shell is broken now, before it is time…”
Richard gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Scarlet. We’re going to get it back.”
She waddled to the cave entrance behind him, poking her head in, watching him disappear inside.
“Richard Cypher,” she called after him, her voice echoing, “if you try to run away, I’ll find you, and if you come back without the egg, you will wish the gars had killed you, because I will cook you slow, starting at your feet.”
Richard stared back at the hulk filling the cave entrance. “I have given my word. If the gars get me, I’ll try to kill enough of them so you can get the egg and escape.”
Scarlet grunted. “Try not to let that happen. I still want to eat you when this is done.”
Richard smiled and went into the darkness. The blackness swallowed up the light of the torch, making him feel as if he were walking into nothingness. Only a small spot of ground before him was lit. As he went on, the floor of the cave sloped downward, descending into cold, still air. A ceiling of rock appeared, and walls, as the way narrowed into a tunnel that snaked deeper. The tunnel opened into a huge room. The path led along a narrow ledge at the edge of a still, green lake. Flickering torchlight showed a jagged ceiling and walls of smooth stone. The ceiling sloped downward as he went on into a wide, low passage. He had to bend over to pass through. For a good hour, he walked, hunched over, his neck starting to hurt from holding it sideways. Occasionally he pressed the torch to the rock ceiling to shed its ash and keep it burning brightly.
The darkness was oppressive; it surrounded him, followed him, sucked him deeper, calling him onward with unseen sights. Delicate, colorful formations of rock grew like vegetation, flowering and blossoming from solid rock. Sparkling crystals flashed at him as he passed with the torch, its flame the only sound, echoing back to him from the blackness.
Richard went through rooms of astounding beauty. Into the darkness rose immense columns of rippled stone, some ending before they reached their destination, with mates hanging down trying to meet them halfway. Crystalline sheets flowed over the walls in places, like melted jewels.
Some passages were clefts in the rock he had to squeeze through, others holes he had to traverse on hands and knees. The air had an odd lack of smell. This was a place of perpetual night; no light, nothing alive, ever touched it. As he walked on and on, warm from the effort, the chill of the air made steam rise from his skin. When he held the torch near his other hand, he could see vapor rise from each finger, like life’s energy draining away. Although it wasn’t frigid, the way winter was frigid, it was the kind of cold that would bleed a person of all their heat if they stayed here long enough. A slow sucking death. Without the light he would be lost in a matter of minutes. This was a place that could kill the unwary, or the unlucky. Richard checked the torch and extra cane reeds often.
Eternal night wore on slowly. Richard’s legs were tired from the constant climbing and descending. In fact, all of him was tired. He hoped the cave would end soon; it seemed he had walked the whole night. He had no idea of time.
The rock closed around him. The flat shelf of the roof lowered until he was walking hunched over again, and lowered more until he was on his hands and knees, the ground cold and wet with slimy mud that smelled of rot. It was the first thing he had smelled in a long time. His hands were cold with the wet, stinking mud.
The way diminished to a single small opening, a black hole in the torchlight. Richard didn’t like how small it looked. Air moaned through the passage, making the flame flap and whip. He held the torch into the hole, but could see nothing but blackness beyond. He pulled back the torch, wondering what he should do. It was an awfully small hole, flat on the top and bottom, and he had no idea how long it was, or what was through on the other side. Air was coming through, so it must lead to the other end of the cave, to the gars, the egg, but he didn’t like how small it was.
Richard backed away. There might be other routes from farther back, in one of the other rooms, but how much time could he waste searching, only to fail? He came back to the hole, staring at it with rising dread.
Trying not to think about his fear, he took off the sword, held it with the spare reeds and torch out ahead of himself, and pushed into the hole. He was immediately frightened of the way the rock pressed against him, top and bottom. Arms straight out, head turned sideways, he wriggled his way in deeper. The closeness increased, making him wiggle and snake his way, inches at a time. Cold stone pressed against his back and chest. He couldn’t take a deep breath. The smoke from the torch burned his eyes.
He squeezed deeper, tighter. He rocked his shoulders forward and back, pulling one leg a few inches, then the other, feeling like a snake trying to shed its skin. The torch showed only blackness ahead. Anxiety gripped him. Just get through, he told himself, just push ahead and get through.
With the toes of his boots braced against rock, Richard give himself a push as he wiggled. The push wedged him tight. He tried to push again. He didn’t move. Angry, he pushed harder. Still he didn’t move. Panic ignited in him. He was stuck. Rock was pressing his chest and back together, and he could hardly get a breath. He envisioned the mountain of rock that was pressing on his back, unimaginable weight towering above him. Fearful, he wiggled and squirmed, trying to back up, but couldn’t. He tried to grasp something with his hands to get leverage to push back against.
Tears filled his eyes, and fear gripped his throat. His toes scraped at the rock, trying to move him one way or the other. He didn’t budge. The way his arms were pinned ahead of him reminded him of the way Denna had kept him in the shackles. Helpless. Not being able to move his arms made it worse. Cold sweat covered his face. He started gasping in panic, feeling as if the rock were moving, pressing harder. Hopeless, he wanted someone to help him. There was no one who could.
With a grunt of desperate effort, he moved ahead a few inches. That only made it worse, tighter. He heard himself crying in hysteria. Gasping for air. Felt the rock crushing him.
Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.
He chanted the devotion over and over, focusing his mind on it, until his breathing slowed, until he was calm once more. He was still stuck, but at least his mind was working again.
Something touched his leg. His eyes went wide.
It was a tentative, timid touch. Richard kicked his leg. At least he kicked it as best he could in the confines of the hole. It was more of a jerk. The touch left.
It came back. Richard froze. This time, it went up inside his pant leg. Cold, wet, slimy. Slithering, the hard-tipped thing worked up his leg, caressing his skin, to the inside of his thigh. Richard kicked and jerked his leg again. This time, it didn’t leave. The tip moved in probing touches. Something along the length of it pinched his skin. Panic threatened to take him again, but he fought it back.
Now he had no choice. Richard expelled the air from his lungs, having had the thought before, but having been afraid to try it. When his lungs were empty, and he was as small as he could make himself, he pushed with his toes, pulled with his fingers, and wriggled with his body. He moved ahead about a foot.