Chainfire: Chainfire Trilogy Part 1

They were humoring him, trying to take his thoughts off the men who had been slaughtered by a beast sent by Jagang to kill him, trying to take his mind off the monster now coming for him.

The thought struck him that maybe somewhere back in the woods around where they had camped, somewhere in an undiscovered place where he hadn't looked, lay Kahlan's torn remains.

Such a thought was so painful to contemplate that it felt like it was crushing his heart.

Richard didn't reach up and wipe away the tear that ran down his cheek. But with a gentle touch, Nicci did. Her hand briefly, tenderly, caressed his cheek.

"I think we'd better try to get some sleep," he said.

Nicci drew back her hand and laid her head against his arm.

In the darkness, Richard couldn't seem to make his burning eyes close. Before long he could hear Cara's even breathing as she surrendered to sleep. Nicci softly pressed her cheek against his shoulder as she snuggled up close in their shared warmth.

"Nicci?" he whispered.

"Yes?"

"What kind of torture does Jagang use on captives?"

He could feel Nicci take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Richard, I'm not going to answer that question. I'm sure you have to know that Jagang is a man who needs killing."

Richard had had to ask the question. He was relieved that Nicci was kind enough not to answer it.

"When Zedd first gave me the sword, I told him that I would not be an assassin. I have since come to understand the principled value of preserving life through the task of killing evil men. I wish that driving the Imperial Order out of the New World was as simple as killing Jagang."

"I can't tell you how many times I wished I had killed him when I had the chance, even though you are right about it not ending the war. I wish I could stop thinking about all the opportunities I missed. I wish I could stop thinking about all the things I should have done."

Richard reached around her and held her trembling shoulders.

He felt her muscles slowly relax. Her breathing finally slowed as she slipped into sleep.

If he was to find Kahlan, Richard had to get the rest he needed. He closed his eyes as another tear leaked out. He missed her so much.

His thoughts lingered on that first day he saw Kahlan in the white, satiny smooth dress that he only much later found out distinguished her as the Mother Confessor. He remembered the way it hugged her shape, the way it made her look so noble. He remembered the way her long hair cascaded down around her shoulders, framing her in the dappled forest light. He remembered looking into her beautiful green eyes and seeing the gleam of intelligence looking back at him. He remembered feeling, from that first instant, from that first shared gaze, as if he had always known her.

He told her that there were four men following her. She asked, "Do you choose to help me?"

Before his mind could form a thought, he heard himself say, "Yes."

He had never for an instant been sorry that he said yes.

She needed help now.

His last thoughts as he drifted into tormented sleep were of Kahlan.

CHAPTER 9

Ann hurriedly hung the simple tin lantern on the hook outside the door. She focused her Han into a bud of heat and it bloomed into a small flame in the air above her upturned palm. As she stepped into the small room, she gently sent the little flame flitting onto the wick of a candle on the table. As the candle came to life she closed the door.

It had been quite a while since she had a received a message in her journey book. She was impatient to get to it.

The room was sparse. The plain plastered walls had no windows. A small table and a straight-backed, wooden chair that she had asked to have' brought in almost filled the space not used by the bed. Besides its use as a bedroom, the room also made a suitable sanctuary, a place where Ann could be alone, where she could think, reflect, and pray. It also provided privacy for when she used the journey book.

A small plate of cheese and sliced fruit sat waiting for her on the table. Jennsen had probably left the plate before going off with Tom to stare at the moon.

No matter how old Ann got, it invariably brought her a sense of warm inner satisfaction when she saw that look of love in a couple's eyes. They always seemed to think they did a fine job of hiding their feelings from others, but, as obvious as it usually was, they might as well be painted purple.

At times, Ann privately regretted that she had never had a time like that with Nathan, a time to indulge in complete, simple, extravagant attraction. Expressions of feelings, though, were deemed unbecoming for the Prelate.