Stone of Tears (118 page)

“When I tried to touch my Han, with the sword on that background, something happened. I was somehow in D’Hara, in the People’s Palace, where the boxes are. I saw Darken Rahl. He saw me, too, and spoke to me. He told me he was waiting for me.”

Sister Verna’s eyebrows lifted. “Did this ever happen again.”

“No. It frightened the wits out of me. I never used that background again. I think if I use that background now, I may be able to see what is happening there.”

She folded her hands together before herself. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. But it may have something to do with the magic of Orden. It would not be the first thing about you that astonished me. It could be real, or just a fear, like a dream.”

“I need to try. Would you sit with me? I’m afraid of not being able to pull back.”

“Of course, Richard.” She sat down on the ground and held up a hand. “Come. I will be with you.”

Richard pulled the mriswith cape around himself as he sat down, folding his legs. “This thing hides my Han, maybe it will work to keep Darken Rahl from seeing me this time.”

Richard relaxed himself as he held hands with Sister Verna. He concentrated on the mental image of the sword against the black square with a white border, as he had done the first time. As he concentrated, seeking the calm center, something began to happen.

The sword, the black square, and the white border all began to shimmer as if seen through heat waves, the same as the first time. The solid form of the sword softened, becoming transparent, and then vanished. The background dissolved. Once again, Richard was looking into The Garden of Life, at the People’s Palace.

He searched the filmy image, seeing white bones where before he had seen burned bodies. He remembered them lying over the short walls, in bushes, and sprawled on the grass. They were much as he remembered, only now they were mostly exposed bones.

Richard saw the white, glowing figure of Darken Rahl, but he was not standing before the stone altar, before the three boxes of Orden. He was near the circle that had held white sand. The sand had not been there the last time he had seen this vision.

A woman in a long, brown skirt and white blouse knelt at Darken Rahl’s feet, bent over the circle of sand. Richard willed himself closer. She was drawing lines in the sparkling sorcerer’s sand. Richard remembered some of the symbols she was drawing; Darken Rahl had drawn them before when he had opened the box.

Richard watched her hand moving slowly, carefully, as she drew the lines of spells. Her right hand, he noticed, was missing the little finger.

In the center of the circle, in the center of the sorcerer’s sand, sat a round object. Richard went closer. It was carved all over with beasts, just as the Prelate had described.

Richard wanted to scream with rage.

Just then, Darken Rahl lifted his face, and looked right into Richard’s eyes. A smile slowly spread on his lips.

Richard didn’t know if Darken Rahl was really looking at him or not, but he didn’t wait to find out. With desperate effort, he forced the image of the sword back into his mind, like slamming a door, at the same time banishing the black and white background.

With a gasp, Richard forced his eyes open. His chest heaved.

Sister Verna’s eyes came opened, too. “Richard, are you all right? You’ve been at it an hour. I felt you trying to pull back, so I pulled with you. What happened? What did you see?”

“An hour?” Richard was still trying to catch his breath. “I saw Darken Rahl, and the skrin bone. He had a woman there, helping him draw spells in the sorcerer’s sand.”

Warren leaned over Richard’s shoulder. “Maybe it was just a vision of a fear. It may not have been real.”

“Warren could be right,” Sister Verna said. She drew her lower lip through her teeth as she thought. “What did the woman look like?”

“Wavy, shoulder length, brown hair, maybe about your size. She was bent over drawing in the sand, so I couldn’t see her eyes.” Richard pressed his fingers to his forehead as he thought. “Her hand. She was missing the little finger on her right hand.”

Warren groaned. Sister Verna’s eyes slid closed.

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Sister Odette,” she said. “That’s Sister Odette.”

Warren nodded confirmation. “She has been gone for close to six months. I thought she went to get a boy.”

“Curse the spirits,” Richard said under his breath. He sprang to his feet. “Warren, run and get Du Chaillu. Tell her we must leave right now.”

He ground his teeth in frustration. He had thought he had all the time he needed. Well, he still had enough time, if he hurried.

Du Chaillu seemed in a trance as Richard pulled her forward by the hand. With the Sword of Truth in his other hand, Richard was in a world of his own, too. His thundering rage was a match for the angry black clouds. The spells of magic circled them like a pack of dogs around a porcupine, angry and insistent, but holding their distance as they searched for an opening.

Wisps of light emerged from the darkness and whirled around them, spiraling down to vanish into an aura that surrounded Du Chaillu. She seemed to be absorbing the magic, as Sister Verna told him she had done before. Together, they were the completed link Warren had told him the old books said would contain the power and bring the Towers down.

Through the waves of heat and the boiling mist, Richard saw the first tower. He pulled Du Chaillu onward, toward the glistening black wall that disappeared into the darkness overhead. Dust and dirt lifted around them as they rushed toward the arched opening in the wall. Spells snatched at them, but their light was sucked to Du Chaillu.

Richard acted without thought, not knowing what drove him onward, and not trying to stop it. If he was to succeed, if he was to save Kahlan, he had to let those things within himself guide him. He had to hope that if he truly had the gift, it would react on instinct, as Nathan had told him, and do what was needed.

Du Chaillu seemed not to notice the sparkling black sand they stood on in the center of the tower. She seemed lost in a private spell of her own, in the power passed down to her from those who built the towers and took her people’s land. So far, she had done her half of what was needed; she had protected him. Now, Richard had to do his part.

On impulse, holding her hand tight in his, he lifted the sword high in the other, pointing it straight up. He lost himself in the fury of the magic, letting it overwhelm him. He felt the heat of it in the calm center he had always sought. He let the rage fill the void.

Lightning exploded from the sword, arcing up into the darkness overhead, jumping from one wall to the other, bathing them all in liquid light. The noise was deafening.

Fire raced through the black stone until the whole of the tower glowed, the stone turning white in the heat of the luminous discharge.

Richard felt as if the lightning were passing through him, too. It seared him with its power, erupting outward, and up through the sword. Only his rage enabled him to endure the ferocity of the onrushing force coming from within.

Flickering webs of lightning cascaded down the walls and across the black sand, until everything was alive with it. The black sand turned white, as had the walls, and the world burned with pulsing fire and light.

Abruptly, it ended. The lightning cut off, the fire winked out, and the roar of noise ceased, leaving silence ringing in his ears. The polished black stone of the tower was left a blinding white gloss.

Du Chaillu seemed still not to notice what was around her, and Richard pulled her onward, to complete the task for which they both had been born.

In the white tower, as he held the sword high, he expected the flash of heat and light again, but it did not come. Instead, the counter to it, the balance to it, exploded forth.

Concussion ripped the air, threatening to strip flesh from bone, as black lightning blasted upward, a void in the light. Like the lightning before, Richard felt the might of the power erupting from deep within himself, as if his very soul were pouring it forth. The snaking void in the light raked the walls, and, with a thunderous roar, pierced a void into the darkness above.

As the black lightning twisted into the darkness overhead, shadows oozed down the white walls, making it seem they were melting into the depths of eternal night. Darkness reached the ground, and flowed toward them, soaking into the white sand, turning it black.

Richard never gave thought to trying to escape the encroaching night. When it reach them, he felt as if they were being plunged into icy water. Du Chaillu, her eyes closed, shivered with the touch of it. Richard noted it, but through the wrath of the sword’s magic, it was a distant sensation that only fed the anger.

It seemed the whole world had vanished forever into inky obscurity. Light, and vision, were beyond even memory.

Richard felt the undulating, twisting rope of the black lightning, the void in the world of life, cut off. Sudden silence replaced the cacophony. He could hear himself breathing hard. He could heard Du Chaillu doing the same. Light and life and warmth emerged from the cold void.

Outside, through the arches in the stone, now glossy black where it was once white, Richard could see light coming through the thinning fog. The ground that before was baked and barren was now green and lush. Still holding hands, he and Du Chaillu stood in the archway, watching the haze and smoke lift on a world no one had seen in thousands of years.

Hand in hand, they walked out into the cool air, across the thick grass, and through shafts of sunlight. The storms of spells were gone, the dark clouds they spawned evaporating as they lifted. The air smelled fresh and clean. The feel of life vibrated around them.

The valley, off to the pale blue line of mountains in the distance was lush and green. Groves of trees were gathered in places along meandering streams. Gentle rises overlaid each other in differing shades of green.

Richard could understand why the Baka Ban Mana would want their land back. It was a place that simply looked like home. This was a place of light and hope that would have stayed in a people’s heart throughout all the dark centuries. It was not a place that belonged to them—it was they, that belonged to this place.

“You have done it,
Caharin
,” Du Chaillu said. “You have returned our home from beyond the mist.”

Richard saw a few people scattered about in the distance, those who had been trapped in spells for untold years. They wandered aimless and confused. He had to find two who he knew.

Sister Verna and Warren galloped toward them, bringing his horse. Before they had completely stopped, Richard was up on Bonnie. Du Chaillu thrust a hand up. She wanted to go with him. Reluctantly, He pulled her up behind.

“Richard,” Warren said, “that was astonishing! How did you do it?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea, Warren. I had been hoping you could explain it to me.”

Richard galloped Bonnie off in the direction he remembered seeing Chase and Rachel when he had been through the Valley the first time. Warren and Sister Verna followed after. It wasn’t long before he found them sitting on the bank of a brook. Chase, with his arm around Rachel’s shoulders, and his usual look of strained tolerance nowhere in evidence, looked confused.

Richard swung his leg over Bonnie’s neck and leapt down. “Chase! Are you all right?”

“Richard? What’s going on? Where are we? We were coming to get you. You can’t go …” He looked around. “You can’t go into the Valley. Zedd needs you. The veil is torn.”

“I know.” Richard handed the reins to Sister Verna and quickly introduced everyone. “My friends will explain it all to you.” He put a knee to the ground in front of Rachel. The dark, amber colored Stone of Tears hung on a chain around her neck, just as he remembered it. “Rachel, are you all right? How do you feel?”

She blinked up at him. “I was in a nice place, Richard.”

“This is a nice place, too. You will be fine, now. Rachel, did Zedd give you that stone?”

She nodded. “He said you might want it, and I was to keep it for you, until you came to get it.”

“That’s why I’m here, Rachel. May I have it, then?”

She smiled and pulled it over her head. Richard unclasped the chain and pulled the Stone off. Holding it in his hand, he could feel its warmth, and Zedd’s presence.

The chain was too small for him. He handed it back to Rachel, telling her it looked prettier on her that it would on him, and then strung the Stone onto a leather thong he had ready.

He hung the Stone of Tears around his neck, along with the Agiel and the dragon’s tooth. From the corner of his eye, he watched the distant dot growing in the sky.

“Richard,” Warren said, “after seeing what I just saw, with the Towers, I have no doubt you can do what you say you can do, but you have no time to reach where you must go. Tomorrow, the world is going to end if you don’t get there. What are you going to do?”

“Where is it we are going, my husband,” Du Chaillu asked.

“‘We’ are not going anywhere, Du Chaillu. You are staying here, with your people.”

“Husband?” Chase said, a scowl finally starting to creep onto his face.