Temple of the Winds

Richard was running. The distance between them shrank at an alarming rate. Kahlan screamed for him to get away. He hardly heard her. Richard was committed. Drefan lifted the sword overhead, pulling a breath in preparation to cleave Richard. That was the opening. Richard knew that a thrust was faster than a cut. He was in the iron grip of deadly determination. Richard was lost in the dance with death. Drefan bellowed in rage as the sword started down.

Richard dropped to his left knee, through the opening, using his forward momentum and a twist of his torso to add force to his strike. Fingers straight and stiff, he drove his arm ahead with all his might.

Before the sword could touch him, Richard struck like lightning, driving his hand through Drefan's soft middle. In the blink of an eye, he had seized Drefan's spinal column and yanked it back out, ripping it apart.

Drefan pitched backward, crashing against the sliph's well, slumping down in a spreading, crimson flood.

Richard bent to Kahlan, cupping her face with his left hand. He didn't want to touch her with Drefan's blood. She was panting in pain. From the corner of his eye, Richard could see Drefan's arm move.

"I can't feel my legs. Richard, I can't feel my legs. Dear spirits, what did he do to me?" Her voice quivered with panic. "I can't make them move."

Richard was already lost in need. He had forgotten how to use his power as the price of returning from the Temple of the Winds, but he had used it before. He had healed before. He was a wizard.

He ignored his dizzy head, his sick stomach; he couldn't allow that to stop him. From Nathan, Richard had learned that his power was called through need, if the need was great enough, or through anger, if the anger was great enough. He had never had more need than he had at that moment, nor more anger. "Richard. Oh, Richard, I love you. I want you to know. if we. if we…" "Hush," he said in a gentle voice. Her face was cut and bloody. It made him ache to see her pain, her panic. "I will heal you. Lie still, and I will make you whole again."

"Oh, Richard, I had the book. I lost it. Oh. Richard, I'm so sorry. I had it. I had it, but it's gone."

With a sinking feeling, he grasped what she was saying: lie was going to die. There was nothing to be done. now. He was lost. "Richard, please, heal Cara."

"No. I don't think I have enough strength to heal both of you." To heal, he had to take the pain from the one injured. Killing Drefan had taken nearly all the strength he had. "I must heal you."

Kahlan shook her head. "Please. Richard, if you love me, do as I ask. Heal Cara. It's my fault-what he did to her. My fault." A tear ran down her cheek. "I lost the book. I can't save you. Heal Cara." She stifled a cry. "We will be together soon, for all time, then."

He understood. They were both to die. They would be together in the spirit world. She didn't want to live without him.

Richard kissed her brow. "Hold on. Don't give up. Please. Kahlan, I love you. Don't give up."

Richard turned to Cara. He already felt so sick that the sight didn't affect him the way it normally would have. Her suffering, though, bent him with pain for her. He laid his hands across Cara's bloody, torn middle. "Cara, I'm here. Hold on. For me, hold on, so I can help you." She didn't seem to hear his words as she mumbled, her head lolling from side to side.

Richard closed his eyes and opened his heart, his need, his soul. He released himself into the current of empathy. He wanted nothing but to make Cara whole again. She had given her all for them. He didn't know if he had strength enough, but he gave all of himself over to it.

He descended into the swirl of her agony. He felt everything she felt, suffered with her. He gritted his teeth, held his breath, and pulled her pain into himself. onward, ever onward, without sparing anything to protect himself.

He shook with the suffering, and his mind wailed with it. He absorbed it into himself, and then asked for more. He asked for all of it. He demanded it.

The world was liquid, twisting, coursing pain. He was swept away in a molten river of it. Its fiery heat consumed his being. Time lost all meaning. There was only the pain.

When he felt it all gathered into himself, he let flow his empathy, his power: healing strength: healing heart.

He didn't know how to direct it, he just let it flow into her. It felt as if his whole self drained away into her need. She was baked, barren earth, soaking in life-giving rain.

When at last he opened his eyes and lifted his head. his arms were lying across the smooth skin of her midriff. She was whole again. Though she seemed still unaware of it, she was whole.

Richard turned. Kahlan was lying on her side, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. Her face was ashen and covered with sweat and blood, her eyes half closed.

"Richard," she whispered when he bent to her, "free my hands. I want to be hugging you, when. ."

When she died. That was what she was going to say.