Stone of Tears

Kahlan nodded absently. That morning, they had seen the army these men were chasing. They were not neat. They were not orderly. They were not pretty. And their sentries were not stationed too far apart. Still, Chandalen and the two brothers had managed to get her close enough to see what she had wanted to see, and to take a tally.

She had guessed their numbers at fifty thousand. And that was not being generous.

She let out a long breath, its thin, white cloud drifting away in the cold air. “I have to stop this.” She hiked her pack and bow up on her back. “Let’s get down there.”

Chandalen, Prindin, and Tossidin followed behind as she slogged down the hillside of fluffy snow. It had taken her longer than she had hoped to catch these men. A blizzard high in Jara Pass had left the four of them holed up in the shelter of a wayward pine for two days. Wayward pines always reminded Kahlan of Richard, and as she had lain in her fur mantle, listening to the howl of the wind, she had dreamed of him while she slept, and while she was awake.

She was furious that she had to lose valuable time on the way to Aydindril to stop this army from their suicide pursuit—of the forces that had destroyed Ebinissia, but as the Mother Confessor she couldn’t allow nearly five thousand men to die to no purpose. She had to stop them before they got close to the army that had plundered Ebinissia. They were too close now. They would surely make contact by the next day.

The army sprang to alert as the four figures in white wolf-pelt mantles marched toward them. Shouts erupted, and were repeated back through the ranks. Tent flaps were flung open and men poured out. Swords were drawn, sending the ring of steel into the cold, twilight air. Men with spears came running through the snow. Men with bows took up positions, nocking arrows. A wall of several hundred men put themselves between her and the command tents. More were coming at a run, pulling on clothes, shouting to others still in their tents.

Kahlan and the three men with her came to a halt. She stood tall and still. Behind her, Chandalen, Prindin, and Tossidin leaned lazily on their spears.

A man of rank tumbled out of the largest tent as he pulled on a heavy, brown coat. He made his way through the wall of men, shouting at the archers to hold their arrows. He was joined by two others of rank as he stumbled through the line of defenders. She recognized his rank as he approached. He was the captain. The two men with him, one to each side, were lieutenants.

When he drew himself to a panting halt before her, she let the hood of her mantle drop back. Her long hair fell across the white fur.

“What is the…” The captain’s eyes went suddenly wide. He and the two lieutenants collapsed to a knee.

Every man as far as she could see fell to his knees. Every head bowed. The rustle of wool, the creek of leather, and the clang of steel fell silent. The three men with her cast one another glances of wonder; they had never seen the Mother Confessor greeted by anyone but Mud People before. The only sound was the slow creak of branches in the cold breeze.

“Rise, my children.”

Accompanied by the renewed racket of movement, all came to their feet. The captain stood and gave her a smart bow, from the waist. He came up with a proud smile.

“Mother Confessor, what an honor!”

Kahlan stared in disbelief at his square jaw, his wavy light brown hair, his clear, blue eyes, his young, handsome face.

“You’re a child,” she whispered. She looked around to the hundreds, the thousands, of young, bright eyes all fixed on her. She blinked at them. She could feel the blood going to her face.

Her fists tightened as she shook with rage. “You’re children! You’re all children!”

The captain glanced back to his men with an embarrassed expression bordering on hurt. “Mother Confessor, we’re new recruits, but we’re all soldiers of the Galean army.”

“You are all children,” she whispered. “Children!”

Silence swept over the gathered recruits. Most looked to be fifteen or sixteen years. The captain and his two lieutenants shifted their weight and hung their heads. Some of the men couldn’t help staring openly at Chandalen, Prindin, and Tos-sidin. They had never seen anyone like them before.

Kahlan grabbed the captain’s lapels and began dragging him off. She growled to the two lieutenants. “You two come along with us.” She glared over their heads. “Everyone go back to what you were doing!”

There was a rattle of swords being returned to scabbards and arrows to quivers as she dragged the captain out of earshot of his men. When she reached the trees, she pulled him toward a log and released him with an angry shove.

Kahlan flopped down on a snow-covered log as if it were a throne. She folded her arms. Chandalen stood to her right, Prindin and Tossidin to her left. They planted the butts of their spears and waited in silence.

She gritted her teeth. “What is your name, Captain?”