Stone of Tears

He chuckled nervously. “We’d all be dead if it wasn’t for you. We were being driven back, hacked to pieces, and then you charged right into the enemy, all by yourself. They all turned their attention to you, and then, while they were confused, we counterattacked. What you did saved us.”

He shook his head. “I wish I had killed half as many men tonight as I saw you kill.” They all nodded their earnest agreement. He brushed trembling fingers across his face. Thank you, Mother Confessor. If it weren’t for what you did, we would all be dead, too.” He gave her a twitch of a smile. “If I had the choice, I’d choose to follow you into battle over Prince Harold himself.”

“Pretty good with a sword, is she?”

She started at the voice. The soldier turned to see Captain Ryan standing behind her.

“I think she could teach us swordsmen a thing or two. You wouldn’t believe what she…”

Kahlan patted his shoulder. “Have you had something to eat?”

He pointed to the pot of beans on the fire. “Would you share some with us, Mother Confessor?”

She almost lost control of her queasy stomach. “You men eat. You need the strength. Thank you for the offer, but I must first see to the others.”

Captain Ryan followed her away. “I had thought you might have some trouble handling a sword. The men who unsaddled your horse told me they found dismembered hands and fingers caught in the girth strap, and a few other places.”

Kahlan smiled at men she passed. They lifted a hand or bowed their heads in greeting. “Have you forgotten who my father was? He taught me the use of a sword.”

“Mother Confessor, that doesn’t mean…”

“Lieutenant Sloan was killed.”

He fell silent a moment. “I know. They told me.” He put a hand under her arm when she stumbled. “You don’t look so good. Some of those men who were poisoned looked better than you.”

“It’s just that I haven’t slept for so long.” She didn’t tell him that she had also used her power again. “I’m dead tired.”

Back outside her shelter, Tossidin offered her a bowl of beans. Her fingers covered her mouth as her eyes winced closed. She thought she might faint at the sight and smell of food. Tossidin seemed to understand and took it away.

Prindin put a hand under her other arm. “Mother Confessor, you must eat, but you need rest even more.” She nodded her agreement. “I made you some tea; I thought it might be a comfort.” He pointed with his chin to the shelter. “It is inside.”

“Yes, tea might help settle my stomach.” She gave the captain’s arm a squeeze. “Wake me in the morning, when it’s time for the next attack. I’ll go with the men.”

“If you’re rested enough. Only if…” She cut him off with a look. “Yes, Mother Confessor. I’ll wake you myself.”

Inside the cozy shelter, she sipped the hot tea, and shook. Her head was spinning. She could only take a few swallows before she fell into the bedroll. She would be better, she told herself, when she was rested. She could feel her power coming to life at last, swelling with its familiar force within her chest.

She curled up under her fur mantle, thinking of the thousand things that needed to be tended to. She worried about the men who were at that moment attacking, and the ones who would go next. She fretted for them all. They were so young.

She worried about what she had started. War.

But she hadn’t started it. She had only refused to abandon the lives of innocent people to a sure death. She’d had no choice. As the Mother Confessor, she had a responsibility to the people of the Midlands. If the Imperial Order wasn’t stopped, untold thousands would die at their hands, and those who lived would live as slaves to the Order.

She thought about the young women at the palace in Ebinissia. Their faces floated and spun through her mind’s eye. She was too weary to weep for them. When they were avenged, there would be time enough to weep.

She seethed with a lust for vengeance. She resolved that she would hound the army of the Imperial Order to their graves. In the morning, she would once more lead her men against the enemy. She would see it through. She would see those girls, and all the others, avenged.

If the Imperial Order wasn’t stopped, not only would innocent people be slaughtered, but all magic, good and bad, all the creatures of magic, would perish.

Richard had magic.

Her mind drifted to Richard. And then she did weep, weep in the hope that he would not hate her for what she had done. She prayed that he would be able to understand and forgive her. She had done the best for him, to save him, to save the living. Her tears slowed, finally sobbing to a stop.

Her thoughts of Richard swept the jumbled, tangled, flashing images from her head. Her mind focused, for the first time in days, it seemed, on things other than fighting and killing.

Focused on who she was, who Richard was. Focused on important matters floating in the fog at the back of her awareness.