Faith of the Fallen

On a low, dead branch of a balsam fir not ten feet away, a small red squirrel, with his winter ear tufts already grown in, plucked a leathery brown rosette of lichen growing on the bark. With his white belly gloriously displayed, he sat on his haunches at the end of the broken-off deadwood, his bushy tail raised up, holding the crinkled piece of lichen in his tiny paws, eating round and round the edges, like some spectator at a tournament eating a fried bread cake while he watched the combatants clash.

Kahlan gulped air as her eyes darted around, looking for clear footing among the imposing trunks of the highland wood while at the same time watching for an opportunity that might save her. If she could somehow get around Richard, around the menace of his sword, she might be able to gain a clear escape route. He would run her down, but it would buy her time. She dodged a quick thrust of his sword and ducked around a maple sapling into a bed of brown and yellow bracken ferns dappled by glowing sunlight.

Richard, driving forward in a sudden mad rush to end it, lifted his sword to hack her.

It was her opening-her only chance.

In a blink, Kahlan reversed her retreat and sprang ahead a step, ducking under his arm. She drove her sword straight into his soft middle.

Richard covered the wound with both hands. He teetered a moment, and then crumpled into the bed of ferns, sprawling flat on his back. Leaves lying lightly atop taller ferns were lifted by the disturbance. They somersaulted up into the air, finally drifting down to brightly decorate his body. The fierce red of the maple leaves was so vibrant it would have made blood look brown by comparison.

Kahlan stood over Richard, gasping to catch her breath. She was spent.

She dropped to her knees and then threw herself across his supine body. All around them, fern fronds, the color of caramel candy, were curled into little fists as if in defiance of having to die with the season. The sprinkling of lighter, yellowish, hayscented ferns lent a clean, sweet scent to the afternoon air. There were few things that could equal the fragrance of the woods in late autumn. In a spectacular bit of chance, a tall maple nearby, sheltered as it was by a protective corner in the rock wall, was not yet denuded, but displayed a wide spread of leaves so orange they looked tangy against the powder blue sky above.

"Cara!" Putting her left hand to Richard's chest, Kahlan pushed herself up on one arm to call out. "Cara! I killed Richard!"

Cara, not far off, laying on her belly at the edge of the ridge as she watched out beyond, said nothing.

"I killed him! Did you hear? Cara-did you see?"

"Yes," she muttered, "I heard. You killed Lord Rahl."

"No you didn't," Richard said, still catching his breath.

She whacked him across the shoulder with her willow-switch sword. "Yes I did. I killed you this time. Killed you dead."

"You only grazed me." He pressed the point of his willow switch to her side. "You've fallen into my trap. I have you at the point of my sword, now.

Surrender, or die, woman."

"Never," she said, still gasping for breath as she laughed. "I'd rather die than be captured by the likes of you, you rogue."

She stabbed him repeatedly in his ribs with her willow practice sword as he giggled and rolled from side to side.

"Cara! Did you see? I killed him this time. I finally got him!"

"Yes, all fight," Cara grouched as she intently watched out beyond the ridge. "You killed Lord Rahl. Good for you." She glanced back over her shoulder. "This one is mine, right, Lord Rahl? You promised this one was mine."

"Yes," Richard said, still catching his breath, "this one goes for yours, Cara."

"Good." Cara smiled in satisfaction. "It's a big one."

Richard smirked up at Kahlan. "I let you kill me, you know."

"No you didn't! I won. I got you this time." She whacked him again with her willow sword. She paused and frowned. "I thought you said you weren't dead. You said it was only a scratch. Ha! You admitted I got you this time."

Richard chuckled. "I let you-"

Kahlan kissed him to shut him up. Cara saw and rolled her eyes.

When Cara looked back over the ridge, she suddenly sprang up. "They just left! Come on, before something gets it!"

"Cara, nothing is going to get it," Richard said, "not this quickly.

"Come on! You promised this one was mine. I don't want to have gone through all this for nothing. Come on."

"All right, all right." Richard said as Kahlan climbed off him. "We're coming."

He held his hand out for Kahlan to help him up. She stabbed him in the ribs instead. "Got you again, Lord Rahl. You're getting sloppy."

Richard only smiled as Kahlan finally offered her hand. When he was up he hugged her in a quick gesture, and before turning to follow after Cara, said, "Good job, Mother Confessor, good job. You killed me dead. I'm proud of you."