Stone of Tears

Darken Rahl’s eyes met hers. His gaze seared her very soul. He smiled the most wicked smile she had ever seen. It seemed to make every fiber of her being ache. She tried to call forth the power again, but nothing happened. He had done something. Kahlan tried, but she couldn’t move a muscle. Richard seemed as paralyzed as she.

Her world was collapsing in a frightening rush. Richard, she wailed in her mind. My Richard. Oh, dear spirits, don’t let this happen.

His eyes burning with rage, Richard managed to take a step forward, but Darken Rahl put his hand to the left side of his chest, above his heart, stopping him stone still.

“I mark you, Richard. For the Keeper. With the Keeper’s mark. You are his.”

Richard threw his head back. His scream seemed to rend the very fabric of the air, and tear her heart and soul with its despair. Kahlan felt as if she died a thousand deaths in that instant.

As Darken Rahl held his hand to Richard’s chest, wisps of smoke curled away. Kahlan’s nostrils filled with the stench of burning flesh.

Darken Rahl pulled his hand back. “The price of ignorance, Richard. You are marked. You are the Keeper’s, now. Now, and forever. The journey begins.”

Richard collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been out. Kahlan didn’t know if he was unconscious, or dead. Something held her up, but it wasn’t her legs. It was the strings held by Darken Rahl.

He glided closer to her. He loomed over her, crushing her in blinding brilliance. Kahlan wanted to shrink away, to close her eyes, but she could not.

Finally, she regained her voice. “Kill me too,” she whispered. “send me where you have sent him. Please.”

His glowing hand reached toward her. The agony in her heart tore her mind senseless. His fingers fanned open. His touch on her flesh sent fire and ice through her in a wave of shock.

The hand pulled back.

“No.” Darken Rahl’s pitiless smile spread anew. “No. That would be too easy. Better to let him see what happens to you. Better to let him watch, helpless.” The smile showed teeth for the first time. “Better to let him suffer it.” His eyes had an intensity that seemed to impale her. It was the same frightening glare Richard had inherited.

“You live, for now. Soon enough, you will twist in a different pain, living, and dead,” he whispered in a measured, merciless tone. “He will watch. Forever. I will watch. Forever. The Keeper will watch. Forever.”

“Please,” she cried, “send me with him.”

A finger reached out and touched a tear. The pain of the touch made her flinch. “since you love him so much, I will give you a gift.” He turned and drew his arm smoothly through the air in Richard’s direction. His frightening blue eyes returned to her. “I will let him live a short time longer. Long enough for you to watch as the Keeper’s mark bleeds the life from him. Bleeds his soul from him. Time is nothing. The Keeper will have him. I give you this spark of time in forever to watch the one you love die.”

He leaned toward her. She struggled to back away, but couldn’t. His lips left a kiss on her cheek. The pain of it sent a silent shriek through her and filled her mind with a vision of being raped. Luminous fingers lifted her hair from her neck. His mouth was by her ear.

“Enjoy my gift,” he whispered intimately. “In time, I will have you, too. Forever. Between life and death. Forever. I would like to tell you how much you will suffer, but I am afraid you would not be able to comprehend it. Soon enough, I will show you.” He gave a whispering laugh in her ear. After I have torn the veil the rest of the way, and freed the Keeper.”

As she stood helpless, he left another kiss on her neck. The horror of the visions it seared through her mind left her feeling defiled beyond anything she had thought possible. “Just a tiny taste. Good-bye, for now, Mother Confessor.”

As he turned from her, she was able to move again. She snatched desperately for the power. It wouldn’t come. She cried and shook as she watched him glide through the doorway of the spirit house and disappear.

And then she collapsed to the ground with a wail of agony. Convulsing in ragged sobs, she clawed across the dirt to Richard.

He lay on his side, away from her. She pulled him over on his back. His arm flopped to his side, limp. His head rolled toward her. He looked ashen, dead. On his chest was a burned handprint—the Keeper’s mark. The blackened skin was cracked and bleeding. His life, his soul, was bleeding away.

She fell on him, clutched at him, as she wept and shook uncontrollably.

Kahlan gripped her fingers into a fist in his hair and pressed her face against his cold cheek. “Please, Richard,” she cried in choking sobs, “please don’t leave me. I would do anything for you. I would die in your place. Don’t die. Don’t leave me. Please, Richard. Don’t die.”

She crouched against him, her world ending. Dying. She could think of nothing to do, other than cry that she loved him. He was dying, and she could do nothing to stop it. She could feel his breathing slow.