Читать книгу Severed Souls - Terry Goodkind, Terry Goodkind - Страница 15

As they made their way across the camp to one of the other fires where the captive was being held, Kahlan met the gazes of young men cleaning weapons, repairing gear, standing watch over the dark forest beyond, or having a bite to eat before bedding down. She returned hopeful smiles, easing their concerned looks, reassuring them that she was all right.

She knew most of these men by name. All had fought in the long and bloody war with the Imperial Order, a war they had won. Now it seemed that the victory and the brief peace that followed had only been an illusion, because the ancient events that had sparked that war had flared anew, as if leapfrogging across time to come after them.

It seemed to Kahlan that most of her life had been lived in one war or another, first with Darken Rahl, then Jagang and the Imperial Order, and now with the long dead Emperor Sulachan, come back to life to finish what he had started thousands of years before.

These soldiers had come to the Dark Lands to protect her and Richard and get them safely back to the palace. It should have been a relatively easy mission after Richard had defeated the Hedge Maid. It had turned out to be anything but easy.

As it turned out, the Hedge Maid had been a harbinger of the evil that had finally managed to escape its long banishment. Her deadly touch had taken Richard’s gift and Kahlan’s power. She ached for her ability every waking moment. Her Confessor power was who she was. She had been born with it. It was part of her. And now she was cut off from it.

The camp was quiet, with all the activity subdued so some of the exhausted men could catch up on needed sleep. From what Kahlan could see when she was able to get a glimpse between the soldiers in the tight ring guarding the prisoner, it was obvious that the captive wasn’t going anywhere.

As they made their way to where the man was being held, she saw that the entire encampment was in a fairly tight but open space at the foot of a cliff. Since they were camped on what was mostly open ledge, it was free of trees and brush. Some of the closest trees beyond had been felled for firewood. Since the wood was green, it crackled and popped as it burned, sending snapping sparks billowing up in the acrid smoke.

With the cliff backing them, the enemy were able to attack from only one side. A heavily defended perimeter all the way around, from the cliff face on one end of the encampment to the cliff face on the other end, bristled with steel defenses. Having the men concentrated close together made it easy for reinforcements to move swiftly from point to point in the line to fight off any sudden charge of the bloodthirsty Shun-tuk.

Such a fortress strategy meant there would be no guards posted at distant points beyond their perimeter as an early warning of an attack, nor any scouts on patrol to gather information. Instead, all the men were being kept together so they could all watch over everything and one another.

While it did deny them advance warning of an attack, it also denied the enemy the opportunity to pick off softer targets, such as outposts and patrols, in order to gradually reduce their numbers. They didn’t have a lot of men to begin with and couldn’t afford to lose any.

The fires lit their encampment so that they could more easily spot anyone trying to slip into their midst. They also lit some of the forest beyond. That must have been how the men spotted and captured the Shun-tuk trying to sneak in closer.

Such a tight layout was generally not the best defensive tactic for an encampment, since an enemy force outside their perimeter could get in fairly close, hide among the trees, and use arrows or spears to pick off soldiers out in the open of the camp. While the enemy could hide off in the darkness, campfires inside the camp lit targets for them. But the half people didn’t have those kind of weapons, so in such circumstances a fortress encampment like this was the safest way to prevent vulnerable lone scouts or small groups of sentries from being attacked and killed, and it made for a hardened defensive line that was extremely difficult for a lightly armed enemy to penetrate.

Some of the soldiers of the First File moved aside when they saw Richard and the small party with him approaching the prisoner. The captive Shun-tuk was on his knees, not far from the fire. He had a big soldier to either side of him, each man holding a well-muscled arm out straight and twisted so that he couldn’t move.

A third, their even bigger commander, a D’Haran with closely cropped blond hair, had a boot planted on each of the man’s calves, pinning his knees to the ground. Since General Meiffert, Cara’s husband, had been killed by the Shun-tuk as they had escaped the caves, Commander Jake Fister was now the highest-ranking officer there with them. He had arms the size of Kahlan’s waist and a neck like an oak tree.

Standing behind the Shun-tuk, the powerfully built commander, obviously not wanting to take any chances, held a razor-sharp knife to the immobilized captive’s throat. Several other men kept nocked arrows pointed at the man.

Kahlan knew Jake Fister. He had served under Captain Zimmer when Kahlan had commanded the special forces in the war with the Imperial Order. Each morning Captain Zimmer would bring her a string of enemy ears collected the night before. Jake Fister, a sergeant at the time, had been one of Captain Zimmer’s most trusted men, and had been responsible for more than his fair share of the ears they collected. Those men were proud of what they accomplished on their nightly raids, striking fear into the hearts of the enemy troops. Each ear represented the life of one less enemy who could harm them. Kahlan had always shown her sincere appreciation of their grisly trophies, which pleased the men no end.

It seemed so long ago. At the time, Richard had been held captive down in the Old World by Nicci, when Nicci had been fighting on the other side for Emperor Jagang. With Richard gone, Kahlan had led the war in his place.

During his captivity, Richard had gradually taught Nicci the value of freedom and of her own life, and won her over. Few people valued freedom as much as those who had never had it, like Nicci, and had come to discover its true value in their own lives. Since that time, Nicci had more than earned her place as one of their most trusted and valuable friends.

Captain Zimmer was now Colonel Zimmer, serving in the First File at the People’s Palace. Jake Fister had been promoted to a commander in the First File and was one of the men handpicked by General Meiffert to come with him to the Dark Lands to bring Richard and Kahlan safely home. It sadly occurred to Kahlan that with Benjamin Meiffert dead, Colonel Zimmer was likely next in line for general to command the First File. She knew he would find it a sorrowful honor. Ben had been his friend.

Despite the arrows aimed at the prisoner, it was obvious to Kahlan by the way Jake was holding the knife to the man’s throat that at the first twitch of aggression, it was Commander Fister who would be the one to end it before an arrow cleared a bow.

The Shun-tuk prisoner wore only a coarse, bleached cloth wrapped around his waist and between his legs, as did many of his kind, including the women who fought with the Shun-tuk men. His legs, arms, and chest were bare. His mostly shaved head had a dense crop of long hair at the top, standing up like a sheaf of wheat at harvest. Strings of human teeth wound tightly around the bundle of hair kept it standing up straight.

Once she got closer, Kahlan could see in the firelight that his skin looked like it had been rubbed with a paste of ash, possibly mixed with something to make it stick better so that it wouldn’t rub off easily when they moved through heavy brush, or wash off in the frequent rains. It looked like the man habitually rubbed the ghostly ash paste over himself, so that in places it was thick, crusty, and cracked.

Like all of the Shun-tuk she had seen, black grease smeared around his eyes mimicked the eye sockets of a skull. He glared out from that darkness. As was the practice of some of the Shun-tuk, the same black grease had been used to paint a skeletal grin full of teeth on this man’s lips and cheeks to go with the skeletal eye sockets. Even held as securely as he was, because of the ghostly whitewash over his body and the skeletal face of a skull, the man presented a frightening, intimidating presence.

As Richard approached, the man’s glare seemed to grow more menacing. Despite how helpless he was, his eyes were filled with hate and defiance, like those of a wolf caught in a trap. He did not look the least bit frightened by his helpless situation or all the big men towering around him. He wanted to fight. Kahlan thought that if nothing else, he would be wise to be more than a little respectful of Commander Fister’s knife at his throat.