Faith of the Fallen

Kahlan carefully sat up and saw that a hole had been torn open in the crowded growth of the forest crown, letting harsh light penetrate the shaded woodland sanctuary below. The ground all around was littered with splintered wood, broken branches, huge limbs fallen to ground, and boughs ripped from other trees. Gouges down through the white layer of snow into the dark forest floor radiated from a ragged bowl-shaped depression where the tree had been. Fragments of wood and root lay on the ground everywhere and were even caught up in the surrounding trees.

Warren put a hand to her shoulder, urging Kahlan to stay down as he rolled into a crouch. She flipped over onto her stomach and cautiously rose up onto her hands and knees.

Kahlan jumped up and pointed. "There."

Through the trees, she saw Cara returning. The Mord-Sith was herding a small man in obvious pain along before her. Each time he stumbled and fell, she kicked him in the ribs, rolling him through the snow before her. He cried out, his words coming as a whining cry that Kahlan couldn't make out because of the distance. The words weren't hard to imagine, though.

Cara had captured one of the gifted. It was for tasks such as this that Mord-Sith had been created. For someone with the gift, trying to use magic against a Mord Sith was a mistake that cost them their control over their own ability.

Kahlan stood, brushing snow from herself. Warren, his violet robes crusted with snow, rose beside her, transfixed by the sight. This was one of the wizards responsible for killing so many men when the D'Harans had gathered in the valley after the Order began moving north. This was the vicious animal who did Jagang's bidding. He didn't seem like a vicious animal, now, as he wept and begged before the implacable captor driving him on before her.

He was a bundle of rags, flinging out around him as he rolled through the snow with a final mighty kick that deposited him at Kahlan and Warren's feet. He lay facedown, whimpering like a child.

Cara bent, seized him by his tangled mat of dark hair, and yanked him to his feet.

It was a child.

"Lyle?" Warren stared incredulously. "Lyle? It was you?"

Tears ran from wintery eyes. He wiped his nose on the back of a tattered sleeve as he glared at Warren. Young Lyle looked to be a boy of perhaps ten or twelve years, but since Warren knew him, Kahlan realized he was probably from the Palace of the Prophets, too. Lyle was a young wizard.

Warren reached out to cup the boy's bloody chin. Kahlan snatched Warren's wrist. The boy lunged to bite Warren's hand. Cara was quicker. She snatched him back by the hair as she rammed her Agiel into his back.

Shrieking in pain, he crumpled to the ground. She kicked the injured lad in the ribs.

Warren held his hands out, imploring. "Cars, don't-"

Her icy blue eyes turned up to challenge him. "He tried to kill us. He tried to kill the Mother Confessor."

She ground her teeth and, while looking Warren in the eye, kicked the whimpering boy again.

Warren licked his lips. "I know. . but…"

"But what?"

"He's so young. It isn't right."

"And so it would be better if we just let him kill us? Would that make it right for you?"

Kahlan knew Cara was right. As difficult as it was to witness, Cara was right. If they died, how many men, women, and children would the Imperial Order go on to slaughter? Child though he was, he was a tool of the Order.

Nonetheless, Kahlan gestured Cara that that was enough. When Kahlan signaled, Cara again seized his tangled mat of dirty hair in her fist and hauled him to his feet. With Cara's thighs at his back, he stood shivering, blood running down his face, pulling short, ragged breaths.

As Kahlan stared down into terrified, tear-filled brown eyes, she put on her Confessor's face, the face her mother had taught her when she was but a little girl, the face that masked her inner tumult.

"I know you're, there, Jagang," she said in a quiet voice devoid of emotion.

The boy's bloody mouth turned up in a smile that was not his own.

"You made a mistake, Jagang. We'll have an army soon on its way to stop them."

The boy smiled a vacant bloody smile, but said nothing.

"Lyle," Warren said, his voice brittle with anguish, "you can be free of the dream walker. You must only swear loyalty to Richard and you will be flee. Believe me, Lyle. Try. I know what it's like. Try, Lyle, and I swear I'll help you."

Kahlan thought that, with Warren there, a man he knew, he might throw himself toward the unexpected light coming from the open dungeon door. The boy behind the smile that was not his own watched Warren with longing that slowly curdled to loathing. This was a child who had seen the struggle for freedom bring horror and death and knew that servile obedience brought rewards and life. He was not old enough to understand what more there was to it.

With a gentle touch of her fingers, Kahlan urged Warren to back away.

He reluctantly complied.