Confessor: Chainfire Trilogy Part 3

Nicci had often been the only person he could turn to, the person who had helped keep him focused, who had reminded him to trust in himself. In many ways she had been his only confidant since Kahlan had been taken.

He couldn't stand the thought of losing her.

CHAPTER 41

At the northeast bank above the stream, Rachel slipped down off the horse, clutching the reins as she peered all around, watching for any movement. In the early dawn light the dark humps of the barren hills made it look like she was in the midst of a pack of slumbering monsters.

She knew better, though. They were just hills. But there were real things that weren't harmless figments of her imagination.

The ghostie gobblies were real, they were close, and they were coming for her.

White cliffs of twin hills rose up, facing each other across the banks of the stream. Sumac, their leaves already lost to the season, lined the narrow foot trail where she stood, trembling in the cold. The tall mouth of the cave stood close, waiting, like the open mouth of some great monster waiting to swallow her.

Rachel tied the reins of the horse to a sumac and scrambled along the loose dirt and gravel of the trail toward that waiting, dark maw. She peeked inside, looking to see if Queen Violet or Six was hiding there. She expected that Violet might leap out and slap her, then laugh in that haughty way of hers.

The cave was dark and empty.

Rachel twisted her fingers together as she again scanned the round hills. Her heart beat wildly as she looked for any movement. The ghostie gobblies were getting closer. They were coming for her. They were going to get her.

Inside the cave she saw the familiar drawings that she had seen so many times before. There were thousands of sketches covering every inch of the walls. Between large drawings, small ones were squeezed into the available space. Each one was different. Most looked like they had been drawn by different people. Some were so simple that they almost looked like they'd been drawn by children. Some were detailed and remarkably realistic-looking.

Rachel didn't know how to judge such things, but to her it seemed that the drawings had to represent many generations of people. Considering the many different styles and various levels of refinement, they could easily represent dozens and dozens of generations of artists, maybe hundreds.

All the drawings had people in them. All the people in the drawings were being hurt, or troubled, or starved, or poisoned, or stabbed, or lying broken at the bottom of cliffs, or grieved over graves. The drawings gave Rachel nightmares.

She squatted down and felt the oil lamps. They were cold. No one had been in the caves. She retrieved a flint and steel from a small niche cut into the wall of the cave and used it to strike a spark at the wick of a lamp.

She tried a number of times and was able to get a good spark, but not a flame in the wick. She glanced back over her shoulder between tries. She was running out of time. They were coming. They were getting close now.

Rachel shook the lamp to get more oil on the wick then frantically struck the flint and steel together. It took half a dozen tries but to her great relief she finally got a flame going.

She picked the lamp up by the loop handle and stood. She stared out of the mouth of the cave, looking for any movement, looking for the ghostie gobblies. She didn't see them, but she knew they were coming. She thought she could hear them, out in the scrub brush. She was sure she could feel them looking at her.

With the lamp in hand she rushed back into the darkness, away from the ghostie gobblies, to safety . . . she hoped. She had to get away. They were coming. They could get her everywhere else. This was her only chance.

Knowing how close they were she was frantic with fright. Tears stung her eyes as she ran back into the cave, past all the drawings of people being hurt.

It was a long way back into the darkness. A long way to where she thought she might find the only place where she could be safe. The lamplight raced over the face of the rock all around, lighting the faces drawn on the walls.

Deep into the cave the light from the cave's opening was only a distant soft glow. Crawling over a jutting outcropping of rock, she could see her breath as she panted not only with effort but with gathering panic. She didn't know how far she had to go to be safe. She only knew that the ghostie gobblies were coming for her and she had to keep going, had to get away.

She came to the drawing she remembered all too well. It was a drawing that Rachel had watched Queen Violet make with Six's help. Although they had never mentioned his name, Rachel knew that it was a drawing of Richard. With all the things drawn around the central figure it was the biggest drawing in all of the cave. It was also the most complex.