uffling.
     A half dozen men had Nicci  down on  the ground, some  swinging at  her
with their  fists  as she tried to fend them off with her bare hands. Others
pawed at  her,  searching for a money  pouch. They were  fighting  over  the
unearned before it  was even out of her hands.  A crowd of women,  children,
and other  men stood around the  scene in a circle, vultures waiting to pick
the bones.
     Richard crashed through the  ring of people, seized the closest  man by
the back of his collar, and heaved him back. He was skinny, and flew through
the air,  crashing  into  the wall of  the barn.  The  whole building shook.
Richard kicked another in the ribs, tumbling him off Nicci  and  through the
dirt. A third man spun and took  a mighty swing at  Richard.  Richard caught
the fist  and bent it  down until he felt a  snap as the  man  cried out. At
that, the men all scattered in every direction.
     Richard  started  after one  of them,  but  Nicci suddenly flew at him,
restraining him.
     "Richard! No!"
     In his rage to get at the men,  Richard  nearly smashed her  face, but,
when he realized it was her, lowered his fists to his sides as he glared  at
the crowd.
     "Please,, my  lord,  please, my lady;" one of  the  women wailed, "have
mercy  on us woeful folk. We's just  the Creator's miserable wretches.  Have
mercy on us."
     "You're a bunch of thieves!" Richard yelled. "Thieving from someone who
was trying to help you!"
     He made an  effort  to go  after the lot  of them, but  Nicci held  his
wrists down. "Richard, no!"
     The people vanished like mice before a hissing cat.
     Nicci let Richard's fists drop. He saw  then that she  had blood on her
mouth.
     "What's  the  matter with you? Giving money to people who would  rather
rob you than wait for you to hand it  to them willingly? Why  would you give
money to such vermin?"
     "That's  enough.  I'll  not  stand here and  listen  to you  insult the
Creator's chil-

     dren. Who  are you  to judge?  Who are you, with a full  belly, to  say
what's right? You have no idea what those poor people have been through, and
yet you are quick to judge."
     Richard took a purging breath. He reminded himself yet again of what he
had to  keep  uppermost in  his mind.  It  was not  really Nicci he had been
protecting.
     He pulled a shirtsleeve  from the corner of his pack, wet it with water
from a waterskin hanging  around his waist,  and carefully wiped her  bloody
mouth and chin. She winced as he worked but without protest let him  inspect
her injury.
     "It's not bad," he told  her. "Just  a cut in the corner of your mouth.
Hold still, now."
     She stood quietly as he  held her head in one hand while he cleaned the
blood off the rest of her face with the other.
     "Thank  you, Richard." She hesitated. "I was sure one of them was going
to cut my throat."
     "Why didn't you use your Han to protect yourself?"
     "Have you forgotten? To  do that, I  would have  to take power from the
link keeping Kahlan alive."
     He looked into her blue eyes. "I guess I  forgot. In  that case,  thank
you for restraining yourself."
     Nicci said nothing as  they walked out of  the town of Ripply, carrying
everything they owned on their backs. As cold as the day was, it wasn't long
before his brow was dotted with sweat.
     Finally  he could stand it no longer. "Do you mind telling me what that
was all about?"
     Her brow twitched. "Those people were needy."
     Richard pinched the bridge of his nose, pausing in an  effort to remain
civil to her. "And so you gave them all our money?"
     "Are  you so selfish that you would not share what you have? Are you so
selfish  that you  would ask the hungry to starve, the unclothed  to freeze,
the sick to die? Does money mean more to you than people's lives?"
     Richard  bit  the  inside  of his cheek to check  his temper.  "And the
horses? You virtually gave them away."
     "It  was  all  we could get.  Those  people  were  in  need.  Under the
circumstances, it was the best we could do.  We acted with the most noble of
intentions. It  was our  duty to not be selfish  and to joyfully give  these
people what they needed."
     There was no road going their way as  they walked on into  what had not
long ago
     been the wasteland from which no one returned. -
     "We needed what we had," he said.
     Nicci glanced up  into his eyes.  "There are things you  need to learn,
Richard."
     "Is that right."
     "You  have  been  lucky  in life. You  have had  opportunities ordinary
people never have. I want you to see how ordinary people must live, how they
must struggle just to  survive. When you live like them, you will understand
why the Order is so necessary, why the Order is the only hope for mankind.
     "When  we get to where we're going, we will  have  nothing.  We will be
just like all the other  miserable people of this wretched world-with little
chance to  make it on our own.  You don't have  any idea what that's like. I
want you to learn how the compassion of the Order helps ordinary people live
with the dignity they are entitled to."

     Richard returned his gaze to the empty land stretching out before them.
A Sister of the  Dark  who  couldn't  use her power, and  a  wizard who  was
forbidden  from using his. He guessed  they couldn't  get any more  ordinary
than that. "I thought it was you who  wanted  to learn," he said. "I am also
your teacher. Teachers sometimes learn more than their students."


        CHAPTER 31

     Zedd lifted  his head when he heard the distant horns. He struggled  to
regain his senses. He was well past dread, into a world of little more  than
numb  awareness.  The  horns were  those meant  to signal  the  approach  of
friendly forces. Probably some of the scouting patrols, or  perhaps yet more
wounded being brought in.
     Zedd realized  he was slumped on the ground,  his  legs sprawled out to
the side. He saw that  he had been sleeping with his head on the burly chest
of a cold corpse. In despair, he recalled that he had been trying everything
he knew to heal the horribly wounded man. In  mournful revulsion, he  pushed
away from the cold body and sat up.
     He  rubbed his eyes against the darkness  from within,  as well as  the
night. He was beyond aching.  Acrid smoke hung  thick as fog. The air reeked
with the heavy, throat-clenching stink of blood. From various  places around
him,  he could see the drifting haze illuminated around glowing orange fists
of  firelight. The moans of the wounded lifted from the  blood-soaked ground
to  drift through  the frigid night air.  In the distance, men cried out  in
pain. When Zedd  wiped a hand across his brow, he realized he wore gloves of
crusted blood from those he had been trying to heal. It was an endless task.
     Not  far  away,  the ground  was  littered with  shattered tree trunks,
blasted asunder by the enemy gifted. Men lay sprawled, torn apart or impaled
by huge  splintered sections of  those  trees. It had  been two  of Jagang's
Sisters  who had  done  it, just before dark, as the D'Haran forces were all
collecting into the  valley, thinking the battle had ended. Zedd  and Warren
had ended it by taking those two Sisters down with wizard's fire.
     By the dull ache in  his head, Zedd knew he hadn't been asleep for more
than a  couple of hours, at  most.  It  had to  be the  middle of the night.
People passing by had  let him  sleep-or maybe  they thought  him one of the
dead.
     The first  day had  gone as well as could be  expected.  The battle had
dragged  on sporadically throughout  the first night with  relatively  minor
skirmishes, and then had erupted with full force at dawn  of the second day.
As night had  fallen on  the second day,  the  fighting  had finally  ended.
Looking around,  Zedd thought it seemed to  be over-at  least  for the  time
being.
     They had made the valley and succeeded in drawing the Order after them,
away from other gateways up into the Midlands, but at a terrible price. They
had little choice, if they were  to  engage  the  enemy with  any  chance of
success, rather than allow them unhindered access into the Midlands. For the
moment, anyway, the Order  was stalled. Zedd didn't know how long that would
last.
     Unfortunately, the Order had gotten the better of the battle, by far.
     Zedd  peered about.  It was not so much a camp as simply a  place where
everyone

     had  dropped in exhaustion. Here and there, arrows  and spears stuck up
from the ground. They had fallen like rain as Zedd had worked throughout the
night, the night before, trying to heal wounded soldiers. During the day, in
the battles,  he had unleashed everything he  had. What had started  out  as
skillful, calculated, focused use  of his ability had in the end degenerated
into the magic equivalent of a brawl.
     Zedd  staggered  to  his feet, worried about  the  distant  thunder  of
horses.  Horns  closer  into camp repeated  the  warning to hold  arrows and
spears, that it was friendly forces. It sounded like too many horses for any
patrol  they  had out. In the back of his mind,  Zedd tried to  recall if he
felt the twinge of magic that would tell him  the horns were genuine. In the
fog of fatigue, he had forgotten to pay attention. That was how people ended
up dead, he knew-inattention to such details.
     Men  were  rushing  all about, carrying supplies, water, and  linen for
bandages, or messages and reports: Here and there Zedd saw a Sister  working
at healing. Other men struggled with repairs to wagons and gear in case they
had to depart in a hurry. Some men sat staring at nothing. A few wandered as
if in a daze.
     It was difficult  to  see  in the poor light, but Zedd was  able to see
well enough to tell that the ground was littered with the dead, the wounded,
or  the simply spent. Fires,  both the common  orange  and  yellow flames of
burning  wagons  and  the unnatural green  blazes  that were the remnants of
magic,  were left  to burn  out  on  their own.  Horses  as well as men  lay
everywhere,  still   and  lifeless,   torn  open  by  ghastly   wounds.  The
battlefields changed, but battle didn't. Now  was a time of  helpless shock.
He  remembered from  his youth the stench of  blood and  death mingled  with
greasy smoke. It was still the same.  He remembered in battles past thinking
the world had gone mad. It still felt the same.
     The  rumble  of  horses was  getting  closer.  He  could  hear  quite a
commotion, but he  couldn't tell  what sort of  ruckus it was.  Off  to  his
right, he spotted a stooped woman shuffling toward him. He recognized Adie's
familiar  limp. A  woman more distant, catching up to Adie from  behind, was
probably  Verna.  A  little farther  off,  Zedd  saw  Captain Meiffert being
lectured to by General Leiden. Both men turned to look toward the clatter of
hooves.
     Zedd squinted into the murk and saw in the distance soldiers scattering
before a  mass  of approaching  riders.  Men  waved  their  arms,  as if  in
greeting.  A  few offered  weak cheers.  Many pointed  in Zedd's  direction,
funneling the horsemen his way. As First Wizard, he had become a focal point
for everyone. The D'Harans, in Richard's absence, relied on Zedd to be their
magic against magic. The Sisters relied on his experience  in  the nasty art
of magic in warfare.
     In  the  wavering glow  of  fires still burning  out  of control,  Zedd
watched  the  column of horsemen coming relentlessly onward, points of light
glinting off  row upon row of armor and  weapons, shimmering off  chain mail
and  polished boots, as they  each  in  turn passed the  burning wagons  and
barricades. The thundering column  slowed  for nothing, expecting men to get
out of its  way.  At their  fore, long  pennons flew atop perfectly  upright
lances.  Standards  and flags flapped in  the  cold  night  air. The  ground
thundered  with thousands of horses charging  over  the blood-soaked ground.
They rolled onward, like a ghost company riding out of the grave.
     Orange and  green smoke, lit from  behind by the eerie light  of fires,
curled away to  each  side as the column of riders charged though the middle
of the camp at an easy gallop.

     Zedd saw, then, who was leading them.
     "Dear spirits . . ." he whispered aloud.
     Sitting tall atop a huge horse at the head of the column was a woman in
leather armor with fur billowing out behind her like an angry pennant.
     It was Kahlan.
     Even  at that  distance, Zedd could  see, sticking up  behind her  left
shoulder, the gleam of light off the silver  and gold  hilt of the Sword  of
Truth.
     His flesh went cold with tingling dread.
     He felt a hand on his arm and turned to  see Adie, her completely white
eyes transfixed  by the sight she beheld  through  her gift alone. Verna was
still  weaving  her way  through  the wounded.  Captain Meiffert and General
Leiden rushed to follow in Verna's footsteps.
     The column stretched out behind Kahlan as  far as Zedd could see.  They
charged onward, collecting cheering men as they came. Zedd waved his arms as
they all bore down on him, so that Kahlan would notice him, but it seemed as
if she had had her eyes on him the whole time.
     The horses skidded to a halt before him, snorting and stamping, tossing
their armored heads. Plumes of steam rose from their nostrils when they blew
great  hot breaths  in the icy air. Powerful muscles flexed  beneath  glossy
hides as  they pawed the ground. The eager beasts  stood at the ready, their
tails lashing side to side, slapping their flanks like whips.
     Kahlan swept the scene with  a careful  gaze. Men were rushing up  from
all directions. Those gathering  around stared  in wonder. The horsemen were
Galeans.
     Kahlan had provisionally taken the place  of  her half sister, Cyrilla,
as queen  of  Galea, until Cyrilla  was well  again-if  that ever  happened.
Kahlan's  half  brother, Harold, was the commander of the  Galean  army, and
didn't  want the crown, feeling  himself  more fit to serve his land in  the
soldier's  life.  Kahlan had Galean  blood in  her  veins,  although,  to  a
Confessor, matters of blood  were irrelevant. They were not so irrelevant to
Galeans.
     Kahlan swung her right leg forward over the horse's neck and dropped to
the ground. Her  boots resounded  like a hammer strike announcing the Mother
Confessor's  arrival. Cara, in  her red leather, and similarly  cloaked in a
fur mantle, likewise jumped down off her horse.
     Battle-weary men all around stood in rapt silence. This was  not merely
the Mother Confessor. This was Lord Rahl's wife.
     For just an instant, as Zedd stared into her green eyes, he thought she
might run into his arms and break down in helpless tears. He was wrong.
     Kahlan pulled off her gloves. "Report."
     She wore stealth-black light leather armor, a royal Galean sword at her
left hip, and  a long  knife at  her right. Her  thick fall of hair cascaded
boldly  over  the  wolf's  fur mantle topping  a  black  wool cloak.  In the
Midlands, the length of a  woman's hair denoted rank and social standing. No
Midlands  woman wore hair as long as Kahlan's. But it  was the  hilt  of the
sword sticking up behind her shoulder that held Zedd's gaze.
     "Kahlan," he whispered as she stepped closer, "where's Richard?"
     Whatever pain  he had seen for that instant was gone. She swept a brief
glare  Verna's way, as the  young Prelate still hurried  toward them between
the wounded, then met Zedd's gaze with eyes like green fire.
     "The enemy has him. Report."

     "The enemy? What enemy?"
     Again her glare slid to Verna. Its power  straightened Verna's back and
slowed her approach.
     Kahlan returned her attention to Zedd. Her eyes softened with a vestige
of sympathy for the anguish she must have seen on his face. "A Sister of the
Dark  took  him, Zedd." The respite of warmth in her voice and eyes faded as
her  countenance  returned to the cold, empty mask  of a Confessor. "I would
like a report, please."
     "Took him?  But  is  he-is  he all right?  You mean she took  him  as a
prisoner? Do they want ransom? He's still all right?"
     She touched the side of her mouth and Zedd  saw then  that  she.  had a
swollen cut. "He's all right as far as I know."
     "Well,  what's going on?" Zedd  threw up his  skinny arms. "What's this
about? What does she intend?"
     Verna finally  made  it  up to  Zedd's left side. Captain Meiffert  and
General Leiden ran up to the other side of Adie, on his right.
     "What Sister?"  Verna asked, still getting her breath back. "You said a
Sister took him. What Sister?"
     "Nicci."
     "Nicci. . ." Captain Meiffert gasped. "Death's Mistress?"
     Kahlan met his gaze. "That's the one.  Now, is someone going to give me
a report?"
     There was no mistaking the command, or  the rage, in her voice. Captain
Meiffert lifted an arm to the south.
     "Mother Confessor,  the Imperial  Order  forces,  all of  them, finally
moved up from Anderith." He rubbed his brow as he tried to think. "Yesterday
morning, I guess it was."
     "We wanted to pull them up here, into the valley country," Zedd put in.
"Our idea was to get  them out of  the grassland, where  we couldn't contain
them, up into country where we had a better chance to do so."
     "We knew," Captain Meiffert went on, "that  it would be a fatal mistake
to let them get by us and stream into the Midlands unopposed. We had to draw
them into action to prevent  them  from unleashing their  might against  the
populace. We had to engage them and  bog them down. The only  way to do that
was  to  taunt  them  into following us out of the open, where they  had the
advantage, into terrain that helped even the odds."
     Kahlan  nodded as she scanned the dismal  scene. "How  many  men did we
lose?"
     "I'd guess maybe fifteen thousand," Captain Meiffert  said. "But that's
just a guess. It may be more."
     "They flanked you, didn't they." It didn't sound like a question.
     "That's right, Mother Confessor."
     "What went wrong?"
     The Galean troops behind her formed a grim wall of leather, chain mail,
and steel. Officers with incisive eyes watched and listened.
     "What didn't?" Zedd growled.
     "Somehow," the captain explained, "they knew what we planned. Although,
I guess it wouldn't be all that hard to figure out, since anyone would  know
it was our only chance against their numbers. They were confident they could
defeat us, regardless, so they obliged our plan."
     "Like I asked, what went wrong?"

     "What  went wrong!"  General  Leiden  interrupted  heatedly.  "We  were
outnumbered beyond all hope! That's what went wrong!"
     Kahlan settled her cool gaze on the man. He seemed to catch himself and
fell to one knee.
     "My queen," he added in formal address before falling silent.
     Kahlan's gaze  lost  some  of  its edge as  it  moved  back  to Captain
Meiffert.
     Zedd noticed the  captain's fists tightening as  he went  on  with  his
report. "Somehow, Mother Confessor,  near as we can tell they managed to get
a division across the river.  We're  pretty  sure they  didn't use  the open
ground to  the east-we  had preparations should they try that, as we  feared
they might."
     "So," Kahlan  said, "they  reasoned you  would  think it impossible, so
they sent a division across the river-probably a great deal more, willing to
bear  their  losses  in  the  crossing-went  north  through  the  mountains,
unsuspected, unseen, and undetected, and  crossed back to this side  of  the
river. When you got here, they were waiting for  you, holding the ground you
had planned to hold. With the Order hot on your heels,  you had nowhere else
to go.  The Order  intended to crush you between  that division holding this
defendable ground and their army on your tail."
     "That's the gist of it," Captain Meiffert confirmed.
     "What happened to the division waiting here?" she asked.
     "We wiped  them out," the  captain said  with a cool  rage of his  own.
"Once we realized what had happened, we knew it was our only chance."
     Kahlan  gave him  a nod.  She knew full well what a mighty  effort  his
simple words conveyed.
     "They cut  us to pieces from  behind  as we did  so!" General  Leiden's
temper was getting frayed around the edges. "We had no chance."
     "Apparently you did," she answered. "You gained the valley."
     "What of it? We can't fight a force their size. It was  insane to throw
men  into  that  meat  grinder.  What for? We gained this valley,  but  at a
terrible price. We won't be able  to hold a force that  huge! They had their
way with us from the first until  the last.  We didn't stop them, they  just
got tired of hacking us to pieces for the night!"
     Some men looked away. Some  stared at the  ground. Only the crackle  of
fires and the moans of the wounded filled the frigid night air.
     Kahlan glanced around again. "What are you doing sitting here, now?"
     Zedd's  brow went up, along with  his own anger. "We've  been at it for
two days, Kahlan."
     "Fine. But I don't allow  the enemy to go to bed with  victory. Is that
clear?"
     Captain Meiffert clapped a fist to his heart in salute.  "Clear; Mother
Confessor."
     He  glanced over  his  shoulders. Fists of  attentive men  near and far
likewise went to their hearts.
     "Mother Confessor," General Leiden said, dropping her  title of  queen,
"the men have been up for two days, now."
     "I  understand,"  Kahlan  said. "We  have been riding without pause for
three days, now. Neither changes what must be done."
     In the harsh reflection of firelight, the  creases in  General Leiden's
face looked like angry gashes. He pressed his lips together and bowed to his
queen, but when he came up, he spoke again.
     "My  queen,  Mother  Confessor, you can't seriously be expecting  us to
carry out a night attack. There's no moon and clouds  mostly hide the stars.
In the dark such an attack would be a disaster. It's lunacy!"

     Kahlan  finally withdrew  her cold  glare from the  Keltish general and
passed a gaze among those assembled around her. "Where is General Reibisch?"
     Zedd swallowed. "I'm afraid that's him."
     She looked where Zedd pointed, at the corpse he had  fallen asleep atop
while trying to heal.  The rust-colored beard  was  matted with dried blood.
The  grayishgreen eyes stared without seeing, no longer showing pain. It had
been a fool's  task,  Zedd knew,  but he couldn't help  trying  to heal what
could  not  be healed, giving  it  everything he  had  left. It  hadn't been
enough.
     "Who is next in command," Kahlan asked.
     "That would be me, my queen," General Leiden said as  he took a  stride
forward. "But as the ranking officer, I can't allow my men to-"
     Kahlan lifted a hand. "That will be all, Lieutenant Leiden."
     He cleared his throat. "General Leiden, my queen."
     She  fixed him with  an  implacable  stare.  "To question  me once is a
simple mistake, Lieutenant. Twice is treason. We execute traitors."
     Cara's Agiel spun up into her fist. "Step aside, Lieutenant."
     Even  in the  haunting orange and green light of fires, Zedd could  see
the  man's  face  pale. He  took a step back  and wisely, if belatedly, fell
silent.
     "Who is next in command?" the Mother Confessor asked again.
     "Kahlan," Zedd  said, "I'm afraid the Order used their gifted to single
out men of rank. Despite our best efforts, I believe we lost  all our senior
officers. It cost them dearly, at least."
     "Then who is next in command?"
     Captain Meiffert looked around and finally lifted his hand.
     "I'm not positive, Mother Confessor, but I believe that would be me."
     "Very well, General Meiffert."
     He  inclined  his  head.  "Mother  Confessor,"  he  said  in  a  quiet,
confidential voice, "that isn't necessary."
     "No one said it was, General."
     The new general softly struck a  fist to his heart. Zedd saw Cara smile
in grim approval.  Of  the thousands  of faces  watching, that  was the only
smile.  It  wasn't  that the  men  disapproved, but rather  that  they  were
relieved to  have someone so  firmly  in  command.  D'Harans  respected iron
authority. If they couldn't have Lord Rahl, they would take his wife, and an
iron one at that. They might  not have smiled, but  Zedd  knew they would be
pleased.
     "As I said, I don't  allow the enemy to go to bed with victory." Kahlan
scanned  the faces watching  her. "I want a cavalry raid ready  to go within
the hour."
     "And who do you intend to send on such an attack, my queen?"
     Everyone knew what the former General Leiden meant  by the question. He
was asking who she was sending to their death.
     "There will  be  two  wings. One  to make their  way  unseen around the
Order's camp so as to come in from their south, where they will least expect
it, and another wing to hold back until the first is in place, and then come
in  from this side, from the north. I intend to have us spill some  of their
blood before bed."
     She looked back  to  the new Lieutenant  Leiden's eyes and answered his
question. "I will be leading the southern wing."
     Everyone, except  the new  general, began  voicing  objections.  Leiden
spoke up louder.
     "My queen, why would you want us to get our men together  for a calvary
raid?"

     He  pointed  to  the  wall  of  men,  all  on  horses  behind her:  all
Galeans-traditional adversaries of the Keltans, Leiden's  homeland. "When we
have these?"
     "These men will be helping get this army back together, relieving those
on duty to get needed  rest,  helping  dig defensive ditches, and filling in
wherever they are needed. The men who were bloodied are the ones who need to
go to  bed  with the sweet  taste of vengeance.  I  would not dare  to  deny
D'Harans that to which they are so entitled."
     A cheer went up.
     Zedd thought  that  if war was  madness, madness  had  just  found  its
mistress.
     General  Meiffert took  a step closer to  her. "I'll  have  my best men
ready within the hour, Mother Confessor. Everyone will want to go; I'll have
to disappoint a lot of volunteers."
     Kahlan's face softened when she nodded. "Pick your man for the northern
wing, then, General."
     "I will be leading the northern wing, Mother Confessor."
     Kahlan smiled. "Very well."
     She ordered the Galean  troops off to their duties. With a sweep of her
finger, she dismissed everyone but the immediate group and called that inner
circle closer.
     "What  about  Richard's admonition not to  directly  attack the Order?"
Verna asked.
     "I remember well  what Richard said.  I'm  not going to directly attack
their main force."
     Zedd  supposed  she  did  remember  it well.  She  had been there  with
Richard-they hadn't. Zedd brought up a touchy issue.
     "The main force will  be in the center, well protected. At their edges,
where you attack, will be defenses, of course, but mostly the camp followers
will  be  at  the tail  end  of the Order's  camp-the fringe  to  the south,
mostly."
     "I don't really care,"  she  said with cold fury. "If they're  with the
Order, then  they are the enemy. There will be no mercy." She was looking at
her  new general as she spoke  her orders. "I don't care  if  we  kill their
whores or their generals. I want every baker and cook dead as much as I want
every officer and archer dead. Every camp follower we kill will deprive them
of the comforts they  enjoy. I  want to strip them of everything,  including
their lives. Is that understood?"
     General Meiffert gave  his nod. "No mercy. You'll  get no argument from
us, Mother Confessor; that is the D'Haran code of warfare."
     Zedd  knew that,  in war,  Kahlan's  way  was  usually the  only way to
prevail. The enemy would grant  no mercy, and would need none themselves had
they  not invaded.  Every  whore and  hawker chose  to  be  a part  of  that
invasion, to make  what they could off the blood and  plunder spilled at the
Order's feet.
     Verna  spoke  up.  "Mother  Confessor,  Ann  was going  to see  you and
Richard. We last heard from her over a month ago. Have you seen her?"
     "Yes."
     Verna licked her  lips in caution  at the steely look in Kahlan's eyes.
"Was she all right?"
     "The last I saw her, she was."
     "Would you know why she hasn't sent any word to us?"
     "I threw her journey book in the fire."
     Verna stepped forward, making  to snatch Kahlan by the shoulder. Cara's
Agiel came up like lightning, barring her way.

     "No  one touches the Mother  Confessor."  Cara's cold blue eyes were as
deadly as her words. "Is that clear? No one."
     "You  have one Mord-Sith and one Mother  Confessor, here,  both in very
bad moods," Kahlan said in a  level voice. "I would suggest you not  give us
an  excuse to  lose our  temper, or  we may  never  find  it again  in  your
lifetime."
     Zedd's fingers found Verna's arm and gently urged her back.
     "We're  all tired," he said. "We have enough  troubles with the Order."
He  shot Kahlan a scowl. "No  matter how tired or distraught we are, though,
let's remember we're all on the same side here."
     Kahlan's  eyes  told  him she challenged that  statement,  but she said
nothing.
     Verna changed the subject. "I will  get together some  of the gifted to
escort you on the raid."
     "Thank you, but we will be taking no gifted."
     "But  you will at  least need  them to help you  find your way  in  the
dark."
     "We will have the enemy campfires to show us our way."
     "Kahlan," Zedd said, hoping to  interject some reason, "the  Order will
have gifted-including Sisters of the Dark.  You  will  need protection  from
them."
     "No.  I don't want any gifted with us. They are expecting any attack to
be accompanied by our gifted. Their gifted  will be watching for shields  of
magic.  Any  riders they do  see without  detecting magic they will be  more
likely  to  discount.  We'll  be able to get  in deeper  and draw more blood
without gifted along."
     Verna  sighed  at  such foolishness, but didn't argue. General Meiffert
liked her  plan.  Zedd knew she was  right  about getting in deeper, but  he
knew, too, that getting back out would be more difficult, once the enemy was
on to them.
     "Zedd, I would like one bit of magic."
     He scratched his brow in resignation. "What would you like me to do?"
     Kahlan gestured at the ground. "Make that dust  glow. I want it to show
up in the dark, and I want it sticky."
     "For how long?"
     She shrugged. "The rest of the night would be enough."
     After Zedd had  spun a web over the dusty patch  of ground, giving it a
green glow, Kahlan bent and rubbed her hand in it. She walked around back of
her  horse  and  slapped the  hand on  each flank, leaving  a  glowing green
handprint on each hindquarter.
     "What are you doing?" Zedd asked.
     "It's dark. I want  them to be able to see me. They can't come after me
if they can't find me in the dark."
     Zedd sighed at the madness.
     General Meiffert squatted and rubbed his hand in the glowing dust. "I'd
also hate for them to miss me in the dark."
     "Be sure to wash your hand clean before we go," she said.
     After she had explained her plan to the new general,  Kahlan, Cara, and
General Meiffert started off to their tasks.
     Before  they  could get far,  Zedd halted  Kahlan with a  softly spoken
question.
     "Kahlan, do you have any idea how we can get Richard back?"
     She gazed boldly into his eyes. "Yes. I have a plan."
     "Would you mind sharing it with me?"
     "It's simple.  I plan on  killing every  Imperial Order man, woman, and
child until I get to the very  last one  left alive, and then if she doesn't
give him back, I'm going to kill her, too."


        CHAPTER 32

     Kahlan focused past the black void  to the glowing  points of the fires
as she leaned forward over the withers of  her galloping  horse,  urging him
onward, faster and faster. The muscles in her thighs strained as she pressed
her weight against the stirrups  and  squeezed her legs against the feverish
warmth  of  the massive body rhythmically,  incessantly, frantically flexing
and stretching,  feeling  its every pounding  strike against the ground. Her
ears were filled with the  hammering of her own heart and the thunder of yet
more hooves  behind her.  She was distantly aware of the weight of the Sword
of Truth sheathed in its scabbard, an ever-present reminder of Richard.
     She gripped the reins in one fist. With her other, she lifted her royal
Galean sword high. The lights were coming. Unexpectedly, the  first came out
of nowhere and exploded into her vision.
     Racing past what  looked to be the light  of a  single candle, she  was
there, at last.  Crying out with the sudden power of  emotions that could no
longer be stifled, she slammed  her sword  down against  the dark shape of a
man. The impact of the blade against  bone jarred her wrist. The  hilt stung
against her palm.
     On their  way by, the men behind  her unleashed  their fury against the
remaining  sentries at the  outpost. Kahlan held tight, knowing  the greater
unleashing of her need was yet to come. She would not be denied, now.
     The fires of the outer fringes of the camp flew toward her. Her muscles
were rigid with expectation. She felt  at the brink of control. And then she
was upon  them. At last, she was there. She met them with all her  strength.
Her blade came down again  and again, lashing against their bodies, slashing
anyone within her reach. The outer  fires shot past the  sides of her  horse
with dizzying speed. She gasped for breath.
     Laying the reins over, Kahlan pulled her big warhorse around in a tight
circle. He was not  as agile  as she would have  preferred, but  he was well
trained  and for this  job he would  do.  He bellowed with the excitement of
battle begun.
     Tents and wagons were scattered everywhere, with little apparent order.
Kahlan could hear the  merry laughter of those not yet aware of the enemy in
their  midst. She had brought a  small  attack force, keeping them tight and
close on the way in so it wouldn't  raise the kind  of alarm a broad  attack
would. It had worked. She saw men around fires tipping up bottles, or eating
meat  off skewers. She  saw men  sleeping, with their feet  sticking out  of
tents. She  saw a  man walking  with his arm around the waist of a woman. In
the dim light she saw men in tents between the legs of other women.
     The couple, arm in arm-undoubtedly at a price-was close. The man was on
the far side  of the woman as Kahlan raced up behind them, so with  a mighty
swing

     she took off  the woman's head, instead. The stupefied man clutched the
headless  body as it began to fall. The cavalry man right behind Kahlan took
the startled man down.
     Kahlan dug in her heels  and  charged her big warhorse over a haphazard
row of tents with  men  and  women inside.  She  could feel  the huge hooves
crushing bone. Screams rose around her and her mount.
     A soldier with a pike stood with his legs spread in a  stance of sudden
alarm. On her way  past, Kahlan snatched the pike from his grip, stabbed  it
into a  small tent, twisting it, getting the canvas tangled up on its barbs,
and then  backed her  horse, hauling  the tent off a man and  woman. Her men
following behind stabbed the exposed couple as Kahlan pulled the remnants of
the tent through a fire. As soon as it lit,  she  dragged the flaming canvas
to  a wagon, setting  that wagon's tarp  afire, and then  threw  the blazing
remains in another wagon full of supplies.
     With  a backhanded swing  of  her sword,  Kahlan smashed  the face of a
burly man who ran up to pull her  off her horse.  She had to  yank the blade
free of his skull. Before more men could snatch at her, she dug in her heels
again and charged off toward another fire, where  men  were  just jumping to
their  feet. The  horse knocked down several, and  her sword cut another. By
now, the shrieks of women sent up  an  effective alarm, and men were rushing
out of tents and wagons with weapons in their fists. The whole scene was one
of erupting pandemonium.
     Kahlan  wheeled her  mount, stabbing anyone within reach. Many were not
soldiers.  Her sword felled leatherworkers  and wagon  masters,  whores  and
soldiers. High-stepping at her command, her horse  trampled  down a line  of
big tents where wounded were being cared for. Beside a lamp,  Kahlan spotted
a surgeon with needle and thread working on a man's leg. She drove her horse
around to trample the surgeon and the man he was sewing up. The surgeon held
his arms up before his face, but his arms were no good at warding the weight
of a huge warhorse.
     Kahlan signaled her men in.  Army surgeons were valuable. The  D'Harans
killed every one they saw. She knew that killing each was as good as killing
untold numbers of  enemy soldiers. Kahlan  and her men wreaked havoc through
the  whores' tents,  toppled  cook wagons, cut down  soldiers  and civilians
alike. When her men  saw lamps, they  leaped off their  horses  and snatched
them up to  use to start fires. Kahlan hacked at an enraged cook who came at
her with a butcher knife. It took three rapid cuts to dispatch him.
     To  her left, Cara's horse cut off a man  about to  throw a spear. Cara
coolly went about killing him and anyone else within her  reach.  A twist of
her Agiel usually seized up their hearts, and if not,  Kahlan could at least
hear  bones snap. Their cries of death  and pain seemed frightful  enough to
send  a shiver  up  the  spines  of the dead,  and  did  add  to the general
confusion and panic. It was glorious music to Kahlan's ears.
     The Agiel would only  function  through  the  bond  to  the Lord  Rahl.
Because  it worked,  she  and Cara knew Richard  was  alive. That alone gave
Kahlan heart. It was almost as if he were there with her. His sword strapped
to her back was like his hand touching her, encouraging her to throw herself
into the fight, telling her to cut.
     The indiscriminate nature of the killing in among  the  camp  followers
confused the enemy soldiers, and terrorized the people who commonly believed
themselves  impervious  to the  violence they  ultimately fed  off  of. Now,
rather  than  being  the vultures  picking  at the carcasses,  they were the
hapless  prey.  Life  in the  Imperial  Order's  camp  would  never  be  the
same-Kahlan would see to that. No more would

     the enemy  soldiers enjoy the comforts  provided  by these people. They
would now know they were no less targets than officers.  They would know the
price of their  participation.  The price was a merciless death  and payment
had come due.
     Slashing her way through the running crowds of screaming people, Kahlan
kept an eye on a large group of the Imperial Order's horses, stabled not far
off, watching as soldiers threw saddles on their mounts. She drove her horse
over  men  and  tents, getting  closer,  until  she was sure she  was within
earshot of those cavalry men saddling their horses.
     Kahlan stood  in  her stirrups, waving her sword high in  the  air. Men
paused to stare.
     "I am  the Mother Confessor! For the crime of invading  the Midlands, I
condemn you all to death! Every one of you!"
     The  hundred  men with  her sent  up a cheer. Their voices  joined in a
chant.
     "Death to the Order! Death to the Order! Death to the Order!"
     Kahlan  and  her  men charged their horses  around in  an ever-widening
circle, trampling anyone  they could, hacking  anyone within reach, stabbing
anyone  who  rushed  them,  setting fire  to anything that would burn. These
D'Haran  soldiers  were the  best at  what they  did, and  they did it  with
brilliant  effectiveness. When  they found  a wagon with oil, they broke the
barrels open and tossed  on flaming logs  they plucked  up  with lances from
fires. Night whooshed into day. Everyone  could  plainly see Kahlan, now, as
she charged through their midst, screaming her pronouncement of death.
     Kahlan saw the Order's  cavalry mounting up,  pulling their lances from
racks, drawing their swords. She reared her horse, holding her sword high.
     "You are all cowards! You will never catch me or best me!  You will all
die like the cowards you are at the hands of the Mother Confessor!"
     When  her  horse came down, she thumped its  ribs  with  her boots. The
horse charged off at a dead run, Cara right at her side,  her hundred men at
her heels, a  few thousand infuriated Imperial Order  cavalry  right  behind
them, with more mounting up all the time.
     Being at the edge of  the Order's camp,  they wo