Stone of Tears

He hastily rolled the general off her and offered his hand to help her up as his eyes glided down the length of her lying on the snow. She stared up at him, but didn’t take his hand. Using her power had left her exhausted and limp as never before.

His customary grin spread on his face as he shouldered his bow. “I can see you are not hurt. You look very fine.”

“You didn’t need to kill him. I had already used my power on him. He was mine. He was just about to tell me who it was that said I could not harm…”

Her whole body tingled with apprehension at the way his eyes took her in. His familiar grin ran a cold shiver up her arms and the back of her neck, making the fine hairs stand stiffly out.

Orsk crashed through the trees. “Mistress! Are you safe?”

She could hear others coming in the woods behind him. She heard Chandalen’s voice. Prindin swiftly nocked an arrow. Orsk lifted his axe with one big fist. “Prindin! No! Don’t hurt him!” Prindin drew his bow. “Orsk! Run!”

The big man spun without question and darted back into the brush. An arrow followed him in. She heard the arrow strike something solid. She could hear Orsk stumble through the barren undergrowth, breaking branches and saplings. The snapping of twigs died out, and then she heard him hit the ground.

She tried to stand, but feebly fell back. It felt as if she had no bones and her muscles were melting. Her strength was gone. The blackness was trying to suck her back in. Prindin turned his grin back to her as he shouldered his bow once more.

Kahlan strained to bring forth the strength to speak. It came in a breathy whisper. “Prindin, why did you do that?”

He shrugged. “so we can be alone.” His smile widened. “Before they chop off your head.”

Prindin. Prindin had told Riggs her power wouldn’t hurt him, so she would expend it on him, and would have nothing left. Her legs trembled with the effort of trying to lift herself. She fell back again as he watched.

A voice came through the trees. It was a breathless Chan-dalen, calling to her. In another direction, she heard Tossidin calling. She tried to scream to them. Only a weak, hoarse complaint came from her throat. Darkness pressed into her.

Maybe she was still asleep, she thought. She could hardly speak, hardly move, just like a nightmare. She wished it were.

But she knew it was no dream.

Prindin turned to the insistent calls. Kahlan dug her heels into the snow and, with a mighty effort, managed to scoot herself back. Her hand fell on a stout maple limb lying on the ground.

Prindin rushed to her. She focused all her fear, her dread, her pain and horror at what was happening, into action. It took everything she had. Prindin reached for her.

Kahlan came up swinging the stout limb. Prindin ducked and snatched her would-be club, wrenching it from her grip. He spun her to him and curled his arm around her head, over her mouth, as she tried to warn Chandalen. Though he wasn’t big, she knew Prindin to be incredibly strong, but in her present state, even a child could have had his way with her.

Chandalen ran up behind them, a knife in hand. Kahlan bit into Prindin’s arm. She cried out as Prindin spun with impossible speed and strength, catching Chandalen across the side of the head with the branch. The sound of the hollow thunk was sickening. The blow knocked Chandalen into the boughs of a fir tree. As she twisted from Prindin’s grip, she saw blood on the snow around Chandalen.

Tossidin, breathing hard, burst through the trees. “What is happening! Prindin!”

He saw them and stopped in his tracks. He looked to Chandalen and then to Prindin.

Prindin peered back over his shoulder at his brother, speaking in his own tongue. “Chandalen tried to kill us! I came here just as he tried to kill the Mother Confessor. Help me. She is hurt.”

Kahlan collapsed to her knees, crying out. “No… Tossidin… no…”

Tossidin ran toward them. “What is this trouble Chandalen told me of? What is wrong with you, brother? What have you done?”

“Help me! The Mother Confessor has been hurt!”

Tossidin gripped his brother’s shoulder and spun him around. “Prindin! What have you…”

Prindin slammed a knife into his brother’s chest. Tossidin’s eyes went wide in surprise. His mouth opened but no words came. With a wheeze, his legs buckled and he crumpled to the ground. Kahlan cried out. He had been stabbed through the heart.

Chandalen sat up with a groggy groan. He put his hands to his bleeding scalp. Keeping an eye to the wounded man, Prindin pulled a bone box from his waist pouch. He had a full box of bandu. He hadn’t given her all his poison.

Helpless to stop him, Kahlan saw Prindin wipe a generous gob of poison onto the arrow’s point. Dazed, Chandalen held his head in his hands as he tried to gather his wits. Prindin drew the bowstring to his cheek. She knew he was aiming for Chandalen’s throat. Just as Prindin released the arrow, she managed to throw herself against his legs, making the arrow go astray from its target. It still hit Chandalen in the shoulder.