Wizard's First Rule by Terry Goodkind
Richard, on his knees, fell against Darken Rahl, gripping his robes, pleading up to him. “Don’t hurt her! Please. Don’t hurt her.”
Darken Rahl put a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “So glad to see you have come back, Richard. I thought you might. I’m glad you’ve decided to help me. I admire your devotion to your friends.”
Zedd was bewildered. What help could Darken Rahl possibly need from Richard?
“Please,” Richard begged in tears, “don’t hurt her.”
“Well now, that’s entirely up to you.” He pulled Richard’s hands from his robes.
“Anything! I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt her.”
A smile spread on Darken Rahl’s lips. He licked the tips of his fingers. He ran his other hand through Richard’s hair. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Richard. I really am. It would have been a pleasure having you around as you were. Although you don’t realize it, you and I are very much alike. But I’m afraid you have fallen victim to the Wizard’s First Rule.”
“Don’t hurt Mistress Kahlan,” Richard cried. “Please.”
“If you do as I say, I will do as I promised, and she will be treated well. I may even turn you into something pleasant, something you would like to be, maybe a lapdog. I may even let you sleep in our bedchamber so you might see that I keep my word. Maybe I will even name my son in honor of you, for helping me. Would you like that? Richard Rahl. Sort of ironic, don’t you think.”
“Do whatever you want with me, but please don’t hurt Mistress Kahlan. Tell me what you want me to do, please.”
Darken Rahl patted Richard’s head. “Soon, my son, soon. Wait here.”
Darken Rahl left Richard on his knees, and glided around the circle of white sand to Zedd. The blue eyes locked on the old man as he came. Zedd felt hollow, empty.
Rahl stopped in front of him and licked his fingers, stroking them over his eyebrows.
“What is your name, Old One?”
Zedd stared back, his hopes destroyed. “Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander.” He held his chin up. “I am the one who killed your father.”
Darken Rahl nodded. “And do you know that your wizard’s fire also burned me? Do you know it almost killed me when I was but a child? And that I spent months in agony? And that to this day I carry the scars of what you did, both those on the outside, and others on the inside?”
“I’m sorry I hurt a child, regardless of who the child was. But in this case, I would call it premature punishment.”
Rahl’s face remained pleasant, the hint of a smile still on his lips. “We are going to have a long time together, you and I. I am going to teach you of the pain I endured, and more. You will know what it was like.”
Zedd gave a bitter look. “Nothing could match the pain you have already given me.”
Darken Rahl licked his fingertips as he turned away. “We will see.”
Zedd watched in hopeless frustration as Rahl returned to stand once more in front of Richard. “Richard!” Zedd screamed. “Don’t help him! Kahlan would rather die than have you help him!”
Richard looked blankly to the wizard before he gazed up at Darken Rahl. “I’ll do anything if you don’t hurt her.”
Darken Rahl motioned him to his feet. “You have my word, my son. If you do as I ask.” Richard nodded. “Recite the Book of Counted Shadows.”
Zedd reeled in shock. Richard turned to Kahlan.
“What should I do, Mistress?”
Kahlan struggled against Michael, against the knife at her throat, screamed muffled words against the gag.
Rahl’s voice was calm, gentle. “Recite the Book of Counted Shadows, Richard, or I will have Michael start by cutting off her fingers one at a time. The longer you remain silent, the more he will cut her.”
Richard spun back to Rahl, panic in his eyes. “Verification of the truth of the words of the Book of Counted Shadows, if spoken by another, rather than read by the one who commands the boxes, can only be insured by the use of a Confessor….”
Zedd sank to the ground. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. As he listened to Richard reading out the book, he knew it was true; he recognized the unique syntax of a book of magic. Richard couldn’t be making it up. It was the Book of Counted Shadows. Zedd didn’t have the strength to wonder at how Richard had learned it.
The world as they knew it was ending. This was the first day of the rule of Rahl. All was lost. Darken Rahl had won. The world was his.
Zedd sat numbly, listening. Some of the words themselves were magic, and none but one with the gift could keep the words in his head; the magic would erase the whole of it at certain magic trigger words. Protection against unseen circumstances. Protection against just anyone getting hold of the magic within. That Richard could recite them was proof he was born to it. Born of and to the magic. As much as Richard hated the magic, he was magic, as the prophecies foretold.
Zedd mourned the things he had done. Mourned that he had tried to protect Richard from the forces that would have sought to use him, had they known what he was. Those born with the gift were always vulnerable when they were young. Darken Rahl was proof of that. Zedd had deliberately chosen not to teach Richard, as a way of protecting him from those forces learning of him. Zedd had always feared, and hoped, that Richard had the gift, but had hoped he would grow before it manifested itself, and then Zedd might have the time to teach him when he was strong enough, when he was old enough. And before it could kill him. It had been a futile effort. It had come to no good end. Zedd guessed that he had always known Richard had the gift, was someone special. Everyone who knew Richard knew he was someone special. Rare. The mark of magic.
Zedd wept as he recalled the time he had enjoyed with Richard. They had been good years. None had been better in his life. The years away from the magic. To have someone love him without fear, and only for himself. To be a friend.
Richard read out the book without hesitation or a single falter. Zedd marveled that he knew it so perfectly, and caught himself being proud, but then wished Richard weren’t so talented. Much of what he recited was about things already finished with, such as removing the covers from the boxes, but Darken Rahl didn’t stop him or hurry him over those sections for fear that he might miss something. He let Richard recite it at his own pace, and stood mute, listening carefully. Occasionally, Rahl had him repeat a section, to be sure he had it right, and stood absorbed in thought as Richard told of sun angles, of clouds, of wind patterns.
The afternoon wore on, Richard reciting, Rahl standing before him listening, Michael with a knife at Kahlan’s throat, the two guards holding her arms, Chase frozen in place, his hand halfway to his sword, and Zedd sitting on the ground, doomed, locked in his invisible prison. Zedd realized that the procedure for opening the boxes was going to take longer than he would have thought. It would take all night. There were enchantments to be drawn. That was the reason Darken Rahl needed so much sorcerer’s sand. The boxes had to be placed just so, the winter’s first sun touching them, dictating their position once they each cast a shadow.
Each box, although they looked identical, cast a different shadow. As the sun sank lower in the sky, the fingers of shadows grew away from each box. One of the boxes cast a single finger of shadow, another cast two fingers of shadow, and the third cast three. Now he knew why it was called the Book of Counted Shadows.
At the proper places in the book. Darken Rahl had Richard stop while the enchantments were drawn in the sorcerer’s sand. Some of the spells were called by names Zedd had never heard before. But Rahl had. He drew without hesitation. When darkness fell, he lit torches in a ring around the sand. Under the light of the torches, he drew the enchantments as they were called for. Everyone stood in silence, watching as he carefully drew in the sand. Zedd was impressed by his level of skill at drawing the charms, and was more than a little uneasy at seeing underworld runes.
The geometric patterns were complex, and Zedd knew they must be done without error, and in the proper order, e
Zedd had known wizards who had spent years studying a spell before they would dare to attempt drawing it in sorcerer’s sand, for fear of making a fatal mistake. Darken Rahl didn’t look to be having the slightest trouble. His steady hand moved with precision. Zedd had never seen a wizard of his talents. At least, he thought bitterly, they would be killed by the best. He couldn’t help admiring the level of mastery. It was a magnitude of proficiency he had never witnessed before.
All of this endeavor was simply to tell which box was the one Rahl wanted; he could open one at any time, the book stated. Zedd knew from other books of instruction that all this effort was a precaution against the magic being used easily. No one was simply going to decide to be the master of the world and read how in a book of magic. Zedd, as much as he knew, didn’t have the required knowledge to carry out the instructions. Darken Rahl had been studying for this moment almost his whole life. His father had probably begun the instruction when he was young. Zedd wished the wizard’s fire that had killed his father had killed Darken Rahl, too. He considered that thought a moment, and then took it back.
At dawn, after all the enchantments were drawn, the boxes were placed on them; each box, distinguished by the number of shadows it threw, was placed on a specific drawing. Spells were cast. As the rays of sun from the second day of winter lit the stone, the boxes were placed on the altar once more. Zedd was amazed to see that the boxes that had thrown a particular number of shadows the day before now threw a different number—another precaution. As directed, the boxes were rearranged so the one throwing a single shadow was to the left, the one that threw two was in the center, and the one that threw three was to the right.
Darken Rahl stared at the black boxes. “Continue.”
Without hesitation, Richard went on. “Once so arranged, Orden is at the ready to be commanded. Where one shadow is insufficient to gain the power to sustain the life of the player, and three more than can be tolerated by all life, the balance is struck by opening the box with two shadows; one shadow for yourself, and one for the world that would be yours to command by the power of Orden. One world under one command is marked by the box with two shadows. Open it to gain your reward.”
Darken Rahl’s face turned slowly to Richard. “Go on.”
Richard blinked. “Rule as you have chosen. That is the end.”
“There must be more.”
“No, Master Rahl. Rule as you have chosen. That’s the end, the last words.”
Rahl grabbed Richard’s throat. “Did you learn it all? The entire book?”
“Yes, Master Rahl.”
Rahl’s face reddened. “That can’t be right! That isn’t the right box! The box with two shadows is the one that will kill me! I told you, I learned that much! I learned which one will kill me!”
“I have told you every word true. Every single word.”
Darken Rahl released his throat. “I don’t believe you.” He looked to Michael. “Cut her throat.”
Richard fell to his knees with a scream. “Please! You gave me your word! You said if I told you, you wouldn’t harm her! Please! I have told you the truth!”
Rahl held his hand up to Michael, but kept his eyes on Richard. “I don’t believe you. Unless you tell me the truth, right now, I will cut her open. I will kill your mistress.”
“No!” Richard screamed. “I have told you the truth! I can’t tell you anything different, it would be a lie!”
“Last chance, Richard. Tell me the truth, or she dies.”
“I can’t tell you anything differently,” Richard cried. “Anything different would be a lie. I have told you every word true.”
Zedd came to his feet. He watched the knife at Kahlan’s throat; her green eyes were wide; he watched Darken Rahl. Rahl had obviously found some of the information from a source other than the Book of Counted Shadows, and that information was in conflict with the information in the book. This was not uncommon; surely Darken Rahl must know that. When there was a conflict, the information in the instruction book for that specific magic must always take precedence. To do otherwise was always fatal—it was a safeguard to protect the magic. Zedd hoped against hope that Rahl’s arrogance would make him go against the book.
The smile came back to Darken Rahl’s face. He licked his fingertips, wiped them on his eyebrows. “All right, Richard. I just had to be sure you were telling me the truth.”
“I am, I swear on Mistress Kahlan’s life. Every word I told you is true.”
Rahl nodded. He gave a wave of his hand to Michael. Michael relaxed the knife. Kahlan closed her eyes as tears ran down her cheeks. Rahl turned to the boxes, letting out a deep breath.
“At last,” he whispered. “The magic of Orden is mine.”
Zedd couldn’t see it, but he knew that Darken Rahl lifted the lid on the middle box, the one with two shadows; he could tell by the light expanding from it. Golden light lifted and as if it were a great weight, it settled over Master Rahl, lighting him in a golden glow. He turned, smiling. The light about him moved with him as he moved. He lifted slightly into the air, enough to take the weight from his feet, and floated to the center of the sorcerer’s sand, his arms extended, the light beginning to swirl slowly around him. He faced toward Richard.
“Thank you, my son, for coming back, for helping Father Rahl. You will be rewarded for helping me, as I promised. You have delivered to me that which is mine. I can feel it. It’s marvelous. I can feel the power.”
Richard stood without emotion, watching. Zedd sank to the ground again. What had Richard done? How could he? How could he give Rahl the magic of Orden? Allow him to rule the world? He had been touched by a Confessor, that was how; it wasn’t his fault, he had no control. It was over. Zedd forgave him.
Had he the power, Zedd would have made Wizard’s Life Fire, and put his life into it. But he had no power here, no power in the face of Master Rahl. He felt very tired, very old. He knew he would not get the chance to get much older. Darken Rahl would see to that. But it was not himself he grieved for—it was everyone else.
Bathed in the golden light, Darken Rahl slowly rose a few feet off the ground, above the white sorcerer’s sand, a satisfied grin on his face, his blue eyes sparkling. His head rolled back in rapture, his eyes closing, his blond hair hanging away. Sparkles of light rotated about him.
The white sand turned a golden color, continued turning darker, to a burnt brown. The light around Rahl darkened to amber. His head came down, his eyes coming open, his smile fading.
The sorcerer’s sand crisped to black. The ground trembled.
A smile spread on Richard’s face. He went and retrieved the Sword of Truth, the anger of the sword’s magic flooding into his gray eyes. Zedd came to his feet. The light around Darken Rahl turned an ugly brown. His blue eyes went wide.
A wailing roar came from the ground. The black sand under Rahl’s feet split open. Violet light shot up, engulfing him. He twisted in it, screaming out.
Richard, his chest heaving, stood transfixed, watching.
The invisible prison around Zedd shattered. Chase’s hand abruptly completed its journey to his sword, yanking it free as he flew toward Kahlan. The two guards released her arms and met him halfway.
Michael’s face paled. He stared in shock as Chase cut down one of the men. Kahlan drove her elbow into Michael’s gut and grabbed the knife, twisting it from his hand. Disarmed, Michael scanned about with quick jerks of his head, his eyes wild, and raced off down a path between the trees.
Chase and the second guard tumbled to the ground, both grunting with lethal intent as they rolled over each other trying to gain advantage. The guard cried out. Chase came to his feet. The other didn’t. He gave a glance at Darken Rahl, and ran off down the path Michael had taken. Zedd saw a glimpse of Kahlan’s dress as she disappeared in another direction.
“Richard!” Rahl shrieked. “What have you done!”
The Seeker stepped closer to the circle of black sand. “Why, only what you wanted, Master Rahl,” he said innocently. “I have told you what you wanted to hear.”
“But it was the truth! You told the words true!”
Richard nodded. “Yes, I did. I just didn’t tell you all of them. I left out most of the paragraph at the end. Be cautioned. The effect of the boxes is fluid. It shifts with the intent. To be Master of all, so you may help others, shift one box to the right. To be Master of all, so all will do your bidding, shift one box to the left. Rule as you have chosen. Your information was correct; the box with two shadows was the one that would kill you.”
“But you had to do as I said! You were touched by a Confessor’s power!”
Richard smiled. “Was I? Wizard’s First Rule. It’s the first rule because it’s the most important. You should have guarded better against it. That’s the price of arrogance. I accept my vulnerability, you don’t.
“I didn’t like the choices you gave me. I couldn’t win by your rules, so I made some new ones. The book said you had to confirm the truth with the use of a Confessor. You only thought you had done that. Wizard’s First Rule. You believed because you wanted to. I have beaten you.”
“It can’t be! It’s not possible! How could you have known how to do this!”
“You taught me: nothing, including magic, is one-dimensional. Look at the whole, you said; nothing that exists has only one side. Look at the whole.” Richard shook his head slowly. “You should never have taught me something you didn’t want me to know. Once you teach me something, it’s mine to use. Thank you, Father Rahl, for teaching me the most important thing I will ever learn—how to love Kahlan.”