Soul of the Fire

If there was one thing about Fitch that was better than Morley and all his muscles, it was that Fitch could run like the wind. Now, he ran like a gale.

A quick glance back shocked him; the woman could run faster. She was tall, and had longer legs. She was going to catch him. If she did, she'd smash his face, just as easily as she smashed Morley's. She'd throw him to his death, too. Or take the sword from him and cut out his heart.

Fitch could feel tears streaming down his cheeks. He'd never run so fast. She was running faster.

He flew down steps, falling more than running. He dove over the side of the landing and down the next flight. Everything was a blur. Stone walls, windows, railings, steps-all flashed by in a smear of light and dark.

Fitch, clutching the Sword of Truth to his chest, sailed through a doorway, caught the edge of the thick door with his free hand, and slammed it shut. As the door was still banging closed in its frame, he toppled a big stone pedestal across the floor behind the door. It was heavier than the white marble columns, but his terror gave him strength.

Just as the granite pedestal hit the floor, she crashed into the heavy oak door. The impact drove the door open a few inches. Dust billowed up. Everything was still for a moment; then the woman let out a dazed groan and Fitch knew she'd been hurt.

Not wasting the chance, he ran on through the Wizard's Keep, closing doors, pushing things over behind them if there was anything handy. He didn't even know if he was going the right way. His lungs burned as he ran, crying for his friend. Fitch could hardly believe it had happened, that Morley was dead. He kept seeing the image over and over in his mind. He almost expected the big dumb fool to catch up and grin and say it was a joke.

The sword in Fitch's arms had cost Morley his life. Fitch, had to wipe at his eyes so he could see. A look over his shoulder showed a long, twisting, empty hallway.

But he could hear doors crashing open. She was coming.

She wasn't going to quit for nothing. She was an avenging spirit come to take his life in return for him removing the Sword of Truth from its place in the Wizard's Keep. He ran on, faster.

Fitch burst out into the sunlight, disoriented for a moment. He twisted around and saw the horses. Three. His and Morley's, and the woman's. Saddlebags with her things hung on the fence.

In order to free his hands, Fitch ducked his head under the sword's baldric, setting the leather strap over his right shoulder and diagonally across his chest to let the weapon hang at his left hip as it was designed. He caught up the reins of all three horses. He seized the saddle of the one closest and sprang up.

With a cry to urge them on, he gave his horse his heels. It was her horse; the stirrups were adjusted too long and his feet wouldn't reach them, so he hugged his legs to the horse's belly and hung on for his life as the big animal galloped through the paddock gate with the other two horses being pulled along behind.

As the horses hit the road at full speed, the woman in red stumbled out of the Keep, blood all over the side of her face. She clutched a black bottle in one hand. It was the bottle from back in the Keep, the bottle that had fallen but not broken.

He bent forward over the horse's neck as it raced down the road. Fitch glimpsed back over his shoulder. The woman was running down the road after them. He had her horse. She was on foot, a long way from another horse.

Fitch tried to push thoughts of Morley from his mind. He had the Sword of Truth. Now he could go home and use it to help him prove he didn't rape Beata, and that he did what he did to Claudine Winthrop to protect the Minister from her ruinous lies.

Fitch looked over his shoulder again. She was a lot farther back, but still running. He knew he dare not stop for anything. She was coming. She was coming after him and she wasn't going to stop for anything or anyone.

She wasn't going to give up. She wasn't going to rest. She wasn't going to stop. If she caught him, she'd tear his heart out.

Fitch thumped his heels against the horse, urging her to run faster.

CHAPTER 55

Kahlan bent over Richard’s shoulder and rubbed his back as he sat at the little table.

"Anything?" she asked.

He swiped his hair back from his forehead. "I'm not sure, yet." He tapped the vellum scroll. "But there's something about this…. It has more specific information than most of Ander's writings back at the library at the Minister's estate."

Kahlan smiled. "I hope so. I'm going to stretch my legs, check on the others."

A sound of assent eased from deep in his throat as he studied the scroll.

They had spent two days at the library in the estate, going over everything there about or from Joseph Ander. It was mostly his writings about himself, and what he believed to be previously undiscovered insights into human behavior.