Blood of the Fold

She growled in anger and extended her arm toward the door. Blue lightning exploded from her fist. The door sizzled with streaks or blue light racing around the perimeter of the door.

The thin layer of hazy light recoiled back, as if alive, and the touch of her magic was painful. The door, however, didn't move.

As the light retreated, bunching in the center of the room, Richard sprang up and slapped a hand to the plate. The door groaned and began to move. The crackling blue flashes from Kahlan died out as the door inched opened. The glow began to flatten and spread once more.

Richard snatched Kahlan's hand. He stood and squeezed through the opening, pulling her with him. They fell to the ground once outside, panting and holding on to one another.

"It worked," she said, catching her breath from the fright. "I knew you were in danger, so my magic worked."

As the door opened the rest of the way, the slick of light seeped into the corridor toward them.

"We have to get out of here," he said as they came to their feet.

They trotted backward, keeping an eye on the creeping fog that pursued them. They both grunted when they smacked into an invisible barrier. Richard groped along its surface, but could find no opening. He turned back to see the light almost upon them.

With a rage of need, without thought, Richard threw his hands out.

Ropes of black lightning, undulating voids in the existence of light and life, like eternal death itself, blasted outward, twisting and curling away from his outstretched hands. The crack of lightning as the Subtractive Magic ripped into the world was deafening. Kahlan winced. She covering her ears and shrank from the sight.

In the center of the vaults, the hazy glow seemed to ignite. He felt a powerful, low-pitched thump in his chest and the stone beneath his feet.

The bookshelves were blown back, flinging a blizzard of papers into the air to flame briefly like thousands of sparks from a bonfire. The light howled as if alive. He could feel the black lightning exploding from within himself, power and fury beyond his comprehension, burning through him and twisting into the vault.

Kahlan tugged on his arms. "Richard! Richard! We have to run! Richard! Listen to me! Run!"

Kahlan's voice sounded as if it came to him from a great distance. The black ropes of Subtractive Magic abruptly ceased. The world returned, rushing into the void of his awareness, and he felt alive again. Alive, and aghast.

The invisible barrier blocking their escape was gone. Richard snatched Kahlan's hand and ran. Behind, the core of light tumbled and wailed, brightening all the time as the sound rose in pitch.

Dear spirits, he thought, what have I done?

They ran through the stone corridors, up stairs, and through halls that became more elaborate at each level, paneled and carpeted, with lamps lighting their way instead of torches. Ahead of them their shadows stretched out, but it wasn't from the lamps — it was from the living light behind.

They burst through a door, out into a night alive with battle. Men wearing crimson capes fought bare armed men Richard had never seen before. Some wore beards, and many a head was shaved smooth, but each had a ring through his left nostril. In their strange leather belts and straps, some studded with spikes, and layers of hides and fur, they looked to be wild, savage men, an impression aided by the way they fought: gruesome smiles bared gritted teeth as they swung swords, axes, and flails, slogging into their opponents, sweeping aside strikes and pushing ahead with round bucklers set with long center spikes.

Though he had never seen the men before, Richard knew they had to be the-Imperial Order.

Richard didn't slow, but wove his way through openings in the battle, pulling Kahlan behind as he raced for a bridge. When one of the Imperial Order soldiers lunged at him, driving a boot toward him to stop him, Richard sidestepped, hooked his arm under the man's leg, and flipped him aside, hardly slackening his headlong rush. When one of the Order's soldiers came at him, Richard drove an elbow into the man's face, knocking him aside.

In the center of the east bridge, which led into the countryside where lay the Hagen Woods, a half-dozen men of the Blood grappled with a like number of the Order. When a sword swung at him, Richard ducked under it, shouldering the man over the edge into the river before dashing on through the opening it created.

Behind, over the sounds of battle, the clash of steel and the cries of men, he could hear the wail of the light. He ran, his legs pumping seemingly of their owr volition to escape; what they fled from was something worse than swords or knives Kahlan needed no help in keeping up; she was right beside him.