Читать книгу The Third Kingdom - Terry Goodkind, Terry Goodkind - Страница 18

After Cara told me to run, I never saw what happened to all of them.” Henrik’s head hung as he cried quietly in sorrow for those he had left behind to their fate.

Sammie put a comforting arm around Henrik’s shoulders. Her eyes glistened with tears as well. With her father murdered in the same way as Henrik described and her mother missing, very possibly a victim of the same grim end, she clearly empathized with Henrik’s misery.

Ester turned to Richard as she spoke into the silence, taking up the rest of the story. “When the boy showed up here we couldn’t understand what he was talking about. He wasn’t making much sense. He was frantic to get help, that much was clear, but we were having a hard time of getting him to slow down enough so we could understand what kind of help he needed. He kept pointing and telling us to hurry.

“When we began to grasp that he had been with people who had been attacked, and that there were two injured people who needed help, we knew that we couldn’t wait for him to tell the whole story. It’s dangerous in the Dark Lands at night, and it was evident that your party had somehow fallen victim to something awful. We knew that we had to go right away to find you and get you both out of danger. We figured we could get all the details later.

“As reluctant as we were to venture out into the wilderness at night, we also feared what would happen if we didn’t help. The Dark Lands are sparsely populated. There are dangers, to be sure, and it can be especially dangerous at night, but we had never heard of so many people as it seemed Henrik was describing attacking them.

“We thought that maybe he was imagining things because he was so afraid. It was not only difficult for us to believe what we thought he was telling us, he was having trouble telling us the whole story because he was frantically concerned with us hurrying to go help you. We had no trouble believing, though, because of his panicked state, that you had been attacked by someone and the situation was serious.

“Henrik didn’t know where you were, exactly. We finally got it out of him that you had come from Kharga Trace, from the Hedge Maid. That was enough to tell us what we needed to know. There is only one, seldom-used road that goes in the direction of that swampy place, so we had a good idea where to look. We left the boy up here where it was safe while we went out to look for you.”

“You did good, Henrik,” Richard told the boy. “You saved our lives.”

Henrik managed a small smile. “Just returning the favor, Lord Rahl. You and the Mother Confessor saved my life.” He gestured toward Kahlan. “The Hedge Maid had me. Jit would have bled me dry like the other poor souls who were trapped like I was, but had no one come in time to help save them. They died in her lair. The Mother Confessor got me out.”

Richard nodded. “That’s the kind of person she is. She has always fought for life.” He rubbed his forehead as his gaze sank. “Now she’s fighting for hers.”

He was feeling dizzy, both from his injuries and from fear for his friends and loved ones after what Henrik had told him about the mysterious attack. The long war had ended. He had thought they were finally at peace and that life was returning to normal. He guessed that there was no such thing as normal out in the Dark Lands. He knew, though, that even for the Dark Lands this was out of the ordinary.

Sick with worry for the fate of his friends, his bite wound throbbing painfully, and his head pounding with what might be a developing fever, he needed to lie down.

After learning a little more about Zedd and Nicci beginning to heal them despite the Hedge Maid’s vile touch of death, he needed to have Sammie see to helping Kahlan. He needed help as well, but he knew that he could wait a bit. He didn’t know if she could.

Richard was about to ask Ester if she knew anything at all about the people who had attacked his friends, when he saw the cat across the room suddenly turn to the doorway and arch its back.

Teeth bared, the cat hissed. Its dark gray fur lifted until it was all standing on end.

Richard felt the hair on his own neck stiffen.

“Does it do that often?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Sammie pulled a long lock of curly black hair back from her face as she frowned at the cat. “No. Just when it’s frightened for some reason.”

The flames of several candles withered and died out, leaving a wisp of smoke to curl up into the still air.

Richard heard other cats out in the corridors beyond the doorway let out feral yowls.

Ester started to get up. “What in the world …”

Richard caught her arm, pulling her back, keeping her from going to the door. Henrik’s eyes widened at the chorus of feline screeches. Sammie’s frown deepened.

And then, someone in the distance let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Richard sprang up. Dizzy and light-headed, he struggled to keep from falling over as he focused his attention on the sounds outside in the corridors.

His hand instinctively found the hilt of his sword resting in its sheath at his hip. His fingers tightened around the wire-wound hilt as sudden cries of terror and pain rang out and echoed through the halls. At first there was only one scream, but others soon joined in a chorus of terror.

The sword’s anger instantly inundated him. The suddenness of it felt like being abruptly dropped into an icy river. The shock of it made him draw a sharp breath.

His own anger rose up out of those dark waters to join with the rage spiraling up from the ancient weapon. The icy shock turned hot with rage as a storm of power from the sword called forth its twin from somewhere deep within him.

With his hand on the hilt of that ancient weapon, whatever sickness he felt, whatever pain, whatever exhaustion and weakness weighed on him, it melted before the heat of rage that had sparked to life. The sword’s power, its anger, crackled within him, hungry for violence in reaction to the screams of terror and pain he was hearing from out in the passageways.

The unique sound of steel rang through the room as Richard drew his sword.

It felt exhilarating having it out, intoxicating to hold it in his fist. With the blade free, with the sword’s anger awakened, the Seeker and the Sword of Truth were now forged together in purpose and fierce intent.

They were now a singular weapon.

Ester shrank back at seeing him with his sword to hand. Distantly, Richard realized that his grim expression, and especially the look in his eyes, was probably frightening her.

Henrik scooted back toward the wall, wanting to be out of his way.

Sammie crouched protectively over Kahlan, ready to protect her from whatever might come through the door.

Richard didn’t intend to let anything come through the door.

He pointed the sword back at Kahlan as he spoke with quiet fury to Sammie. “Stay here and protect her.”

Looking determined, Sammie nodded.

Richard flipped the sheepskin covering up out of the way as he ducked under it and out into the hallway, headed toward the sound of the screams.