Stone of Tears

“If you have difficulty seeing the right of this, then I call upon you to consider the honor of the soldiers you are up against. Consider them as they stood waiting in gangs to rape your mothers and sisters. Consider what your mothers and sisters in Ebinissia thought of honor as they were tortured and raped and slaughtered.”

The chill of her words sent visible shudders through the stone-silent men. Kahlan had to restrain herself from bringing any more horror to their eyes, but before her still floated the vision of the young women in the palace.

“If the enemy is looking the other way, so much the better, because they will not thrust a knife into you. If it is from a distance, with an arrow, so much the better, because they will not have a chance to impale you on an argon. If it is while they have food in their mouths, so much the better, because they will not be able to raise an alarm. If it is while they are sleeping, so much the better, because they will not have a chance to cleave you with their sword.

“Last night, my horse crushed the head of one of the D’Haran commanders. There was no glory in that, no honor, only the knowledge that perhaps that deed will prevent some of you from dying by his hand and wits. In that, my heart sings with joy. Joy that maybe it has saved some of your precious lives.

“What we do is done to save the lives of men and women yet alive and yet unborn. You saw what was done to the people in Ebinissia. Remember the faces of those dead. Remember the way they died, and the horror they suffered before they did. Remember those soldiers captured, and beheaded.

“It is up to us to prevent that from happening to any more people. To do that, we must kill these men. There is no glory in the doing. Only survival.”

In the back, two men gestured obscenely to those around them and walked off to join with Mosle’s men. Sixty-nine. But the rest stood in firm resolution to take up the fight.

The time had come. She had dissuaded them from their raw thoughts of glorious battle, and told them of the true nature of their task. She had brought most to an understanding of the larger temper of the battle ahead. She had told them some of what must be done. She had brought them to a more focused understanding of their importance in the scheme of this struggle.

The time had come to charge them irreversibly to the burden, to forge them into an instrument of retribution that could annihilate the threat.

Kahlan opened her arms to the men before her, her blood soaked mantle hanging limp.

“I am dead,” she called to the gray sky. Frowning, they all leaned in a little. “What has happened to my countrymen, my countrywomen—my fathers, sons, mothers, and daughters—has slain me. The agony of their slaughter has mortally wounded my heart.”

Her arms spread wider as her voice rose in wrath.

“Only vengeance can restore me! Only victory can return my life to me!”

She gazed into all the wide eyes staring back. “I am the Mother Confessor of the Midlands. I am your mothers, your sisters, your daughters yet unborn. I call upon you to die with me, and live again only by avenging me.”

Kahlan swept a hand out. Those of you who join with me in this are dead with me. Our lives can be returned only through vengeance. As long as one of our enemy lives, we are dead. We have no life to lose in this battle, for our lives are already lost, here, today, now. Only when every one of the destroyers of Ebinissia is slain may we live once again. Until then we have no life.”

She looked out at the solemn faces of the men gathered before her, watching, waiting for her next words. On a warm breeze, the bloody wolf fur rustled against her cheek. Kahlan pulled free her knife and held it up in her fist for all to see. She laid the weapon over her heart.

“An oath then, to the good people of Ebinissia who are now with the spirits, and to the good people of the Midlands!”

Almost all the men followed her example, holding their knives over their hearts. Seven did not, but, grumbling curses, rose to join with Mosle. Seventy-six.

“Vengeance without mercy before our lives are returned to us!’she pledged.

The sober voice of every man before her repeated the oath, joining with every other in unflinching unity.

“Vengeance without mercy before our lives are returned to us!” The roar of their words drifted away on the morning air.

Kahlan watched William Mosle cast a glance over his shoulder at her before following his men away, back up the pass.

She returned her attention to those before her. “You are all sworn in oath, then. Tonight, we begin the killing of the men of the Order. Let it be without quarter. We take no prisoners.”

No cheer went up this time. The men listened in grim attention.