Soul of the Fire

On top of that, to have worked and sacrificed so much for these people of Anderith, only to have them turn away from him, was crushing.

The worst of it, though, was that he and Kahlan had to put it all before a child. Richard was willing to risk Shota, if Kahlan was. He knew the danger a child could pose, but he was willing to fight for their right to their own future. But how could they worry about a child now, with the chimes and the Order both ruthlessly bearing down on the world? Adding Shota into the mix would be beyond reason. Kahlan saw that, too, but he knew it was hard for her, putting duty first her whole life.

But if they didn't do their part, their duty, the world would fall to Jagang's tyranny, into slavery. If the chimes didn't kill them all first. Before any of the rest of it, they had to stop the chimes. The chimes were nobody's fault but his. He was responsible for banishing them.

Still, even if he could figure out what Joseph Ander had done, they had Jagang to deal with before they could think about having a child. Kahlan understood that. He thanked the good spirits for that one thing good in his life: Kahlan.

He realized he must be close to Fairfield. He should turn back. Kahlan would be worried. He had been gone a long time. He didn't want to worry her. She had enough worries. He hoped she "wouldn't be too distraught about not having a child right now.

As he turned, he thought he heard something. He straightened and listened. He didn't know how long the noise had gone on because he hadn't been paying much attention to anything but trying to think of solutions to their problems. Now he cocked his head to hear. It sounded oddly like muffled thuds.

Without stopping to think it over, Richard started running toward the sound. As he got closer, he realized he heard men grunting in effort, panting, exerting themselves.

Richard burst upon them, a gang of men, beating someone on the ground. He seized the hair of one and yanked him back. Under the man, he saw a bloody body.

They were beating the poor soul to death.

Richard recognized the man he had. It was one of the messengers. Rowley, he thought the man's name was. He had a wild, savage look in his eyes.

Rowley, seeing that it was Richard, immediately went for his throat, crying. "Get him!"

Richard whipped his other arm around Rowley's neck, seized his chin, bent him over, and yanked back, snapping his neck. Rowley went down in a limp heap.

Another man sprang forward. His onrushing momentum was his worst mistake. Richard rammed the heel of his hand square into the man's face.

He was still falling across Rowley as Richard snatched the red hair of another, pulled him forward, and drove his knee up into the man's jaw. His jaw broken, he staggered back.

The men were all up, now, and Richard realized he might soon be joining the body on the ground. His advantage was that they were already tired from their exertion. His disadvantage was that they greatly outnumbered him, and they were mad with blood lust.

Just as they were about to dive onto Richard, they saw something and scattered. Richard spun around and saw the Baka Tau Mana blade masters sweeping in out of the night, their swords whistling through the night air.

Richard realized they must have been shadowing him as he went for his walk to be alone. He hadn't even known they were there. As they went after the mob, Richard knelt down beside the body in the trampled wheat.

Whoever it was, they were dead.

Richard stood with a sorrowful sigh. He stared down at the broken form that had once been a person, probably only a short time before. It looked like it must have been a terrible end.

If only he had been closer, sooner, he might have been able to stop it. Suddenly not having the stomach to look at the bloody body, or others nearby, Richard walked away.

He hadn't gone more than a few paces when a thought brought him to a halt. He turned around and looked. He winced at the notion, but then thought: What if it had been someone he cared about? Wouldn't he want somebody who was there to do whatever they could? He was the only one around to help, if he even could. He guessed it was worth a try-the person was already dead, there was nothing to lose.

He ran back and knelt beside the body. He couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman, except that there were pants, so he assumed it to be a man. He put a hand under the neck and wiped some of the mask of blood from the swollen, cut lips and then put his over them.

He remembered what Denna had done to him, when he was near death. He recalled Cara doing it to Du Chaillu.

He blew a breath of life into the lifeless corpse. He lifted his mouth and listened to the breath wheeze from the body. He blew another breath, and then another, and then another.

He knelt by the body for what seemed like ages but he knew could be only minutes, blowing in the breath of life, hoping against hope that the poor unfortunate soul would still be with them. He prayed to the good spirits for help.