Faith of the Fallen

Part of Richard's ability, and advantage, is the way he views the world-through not just fresh eyes, but the eyes of a Seeker of Truth. He doesn't know something is impossible, so he tries to accomplish it. I fear to tell him how to do things, how to use his magic, because such teaching also might suggest to him limits of his powers, thus creating them in reality. What could I teach a war wizard? I know nothing about the Subtractive side of magic, much less the gift of such power."

"Lacking another war wizard with Subtractive Magic, are you suggesting it would maybe take a Sister of the Dark to teach him?" Warren asked.

"Well," Zedd mused, "that might be a thought." He let out a tired sigh as he turned more serious. "I have come to realize that it would not only be useless to try to teach Richard to use his ability, but it may even be dangerous-to the world.

"I would like to go see him, and offer him my encouragement, experience, and understanding, but help?" Zedd shook his head. "I don't dare."

No one offered any objection. Verna, for one, had firsthand experience that very likely confirmed the truth of his words. The rest of them probably knew Richard well enough to understand much the same.

"May I help you find a spare tent, Zedd?" Verna finally asked. "You look like you could use some rest. In the morning, after you get a good night's rest, and we all think this over, we can talk more."

Warren, who had just been about to ask another question before Verna spoke first, looked disappointed, but nodded in agreement.

Zedd stretched his legs out straight as he yawned. "That would be best." The thought of the job ahead was daunting. He ached to see Richard, to help him, especially after searching for him for so long. Sometimes it was hard to leave people alone when that was what they most needed. "That would be best," he repeated, "I am tired."

"Summer be slipping away from us. The nights be turning chilly," Adie said as she pressed against Zedd's side. She looked up at him with her white eyes that in the lamplight had a soft amber cast. "Stay with me and warm my bones, old man?"

Zedd smiled as he embraced her. It was as much of a comfort to be with her again as he had expected. In fact, at that moment, if she had given him another hat with a feather, he would have donned it, and with a smile.

Worry, though, ached through his bones like an approaching storm.

"Zedd," Verna said, seeming to notice in his eyes the weight of his thoughts, "Richard is a war wizard who, as you say, has in the past proven his remarkable ability. He's a very resourceful young man. Besides that, he is none other than the Seeker himself and has the Sword of Truth with him for protection-a sword that I can testify he knows how to use. Kahlan is a Confessor-the Mother Confessorand is experienced in the use of her power.

They have a Mord-Sith with them. MordSith take no chances."

"I know," Zedd whispered, staring off into a nightmare swirl of thoughts. "But I still fear greatly for them."

"What is it that worries you so?" Warren asked.

"Albino mosquitoes."

CHAPTER 18

Panting in exhaustion, Kahlan had to dance backward through the snarl of hobblebush stitched through with thorny blackberry to dodge the swing of the sword. The tip whistled past, missing her ribs by an inch. In her mad dash to escape, she ignored the snag and tug of thorns on her pants. She could feel her heartbeat galloping at the base of her skull.

As he relentlessly pressed his attack, forcing her back over a low rise of ledge and through the swale beyond, mounds of fallen leaves kicked aloft by his boots boiled up into the late-afternoon air like colorful thunderheads. The bright yellow, lustrous orange, and vivid red leaves rained down over rocky outcrops swaddled in prickly whorls of juniper. It was like doing battle amid a fallen rainbow.

Richard lunged at her again. Kahlan gasped but blocked his sword. He pressed his grim attack with implacable determination. She gave ground, stepping high as she did so in order to avoid tripping over the snare of roots around a huge white spruce. Losing her footing would be fatal; if she fell, Richard would stab her in an instant.

She glanced left. There loomed a tall prominence of sheer rock draped with long trailers of woolly moss. To the other side, the brink of the ridge ran back to eventually meet that rock wall. Once the level ground tapered down to that dead end, the only option was going to be to climb straight up or straight down.

She deflected a quick thrust of his sword, and he warded hers. In a burst of fury, she pressed a fierce assault, forcing him back a dozen steps.

He effortlessly parried her strikes, and then returned her attack in kind.

What she had gained was quickly lost twice over. She was once again desperately defending herself and trading ground for her life.